Well, after all the scare comments from the vet, Dino had his scan this morning and is fine.
Just thought you should know.
Dino is fine
4
Christmas is coming and the stamps have arrived!
Finally, after all these years, I am getting better.
This year, about a month ago, I started looking at the Italian Post Office site for indications of when the Christmas stamps would be out. In fact, they came out on Saturday. And I was able to place my order last week.
There are, as usual, two stamps available. There is the religious one:
And then there is the non-religious one:
Which is, of course, the ones I chose. And, this morning, I got them! Yesterday, I went down to the cellar and brought up the box with the cards and, now all I have to do is write them. This means there is a really good chance that everyone will get their cards before Christmas – even the people in far-off lands.
But, I still have to write them!
Sometimes, I forget
I am not quite perfect. I know that.
The problem is in this brain of mine. Sometimes, unimportant things take on an importance that they don’t warrant. And, so it has been recently.
My main worry for the last week or so has been Dino. He was trying to be sick – making all the right noises (in the middle of the night, of course, so making me wide awake in milliseconds) but with nothing coming out.
If he had actually been sick, I wouldn’t have worried. Well, if he’d been sick many times I would have, but not if it was a couple of times. After all, he manages to find the only bread roll on a walk and, normally, scoff it before I realise what’s happened!
But he wasn’t being physically sick and that worried me a lot. It meant that he had possibly got something stuck in his stomach.
So, I took him to the vet. The vet decided to take an X-ray. He showed me the X-ray and said that, anyway, the X-ray wouldn’t pick up if there was plastic or something stuck in his stomach. In fact, from what he said, there seemed to be little point in the X-ray at all!
However, he then pointed out various parts inside. One of which was the liver which he said was too large. He implied it was very much larger than it should be.
So, he suggested a blood test and an ultra-sound scan. The ultra-sound scan would pick out if there was, for example, a plastic bag inside the stomach and would also mean that they could see what was wrong with the liver.
To be honest, I’ve been really scared.
I avoided looking it all up on the Internet, being all too aware that the Internet is NOT the best place to look for your fears. But, in the end I couldn’t resist. I found that it could be cancer, and infection, diabetes or cirrhosis. None of it bode well.
I made an appointment (which had to be during the week and had to be a morning as he had not to eat). We got there and he said that he was only going to do the blood test because that was the most important. I was a bit angry with him (but didn’t show it) as this could have been done the evening before, after work!
And then we had to wait for the results. During which time other things happened which has made me lose the plot somewhat because everything was JUST TOO MUCH FOR ME TO TAKE!
I went round on Tuesday night and the other vet was there (the one I don’t really like) and he said they hadn’t had the results back yet.
Of course, this worried me even more. Perhaps the results were delayed because they had found something? Perhaps this vet didn’t want to tell me because I’m pretty sure he knows I don’t like him very much and he didn’t want to be the one giving me bad news?
He said to come back round last night.
So, yesterday was much, much worse because, by now, I was really worried.
I went round last night. The nicer vet was there. He got the results printed out (from an email) and went through them with me.
And everything was OK. OK so some numbers were not perfect but most were. And the numbers that weren’t were not a cause for concern. Apparently.
And he added that we could do a scan but there was no need really and it was up to me. And, this time he seemed to imply that the liver wasn’t so large and it wasn’t so bad and maybe it was “just him”!
However, we’re going to have the scan anyway. Just in case. But I am so relieved. There is a possibility there is a tumour because “I have seen this before”, he said and added, “but usually the blood test would pick up some problems that would point to cancer.” So, it should be OK.
This morning, about 3 a.m. I woke up and was going through the other shit things that are happening and trying to solve them (this was NOT by choice) then about 5.30, I suddenly realised that all this shit was just so bloody unimportant when compared to the fact that Dino might have been seriously ill that I should just let it all go.
Which is what I’m starting to do today.
I am just happy that the four of us are OK and together. That’s really all that counts and sometimes, I forget.
Surprise! This one’s about food (maybe unsurprisingly.)
Italy still has the power to surprise me, even after all these years.
In this case it’s food (again).
So, for the last 5 years or so, I’ve been going down to the Tuscan coast a fair bit, especially in the summer. Of course, we have often eaten at someone’s home – real Italian home-cooked food. And, more often than not, it is delicious. There are things that F likes a lot and, as it’s his family, he gets what he really likes. I’ve never really paid much attention to it other than to like it and eat it. There are things I like less than others, of course.
For example, for breakfast, I usually have a pastry which has apple in it. F usually has the rice one. We don’t seem to see them in Milan but, to be honest, I never thought much of it. They are flat pastries, similar, in a way, to Eccles Cakes (i.e. a kind of flaky pastry thing) – but mine is filled with apple and his with some rice filling (although I’ve had it and there aren’t any bits of rice as you’d expect.)
So, this weekend just gone, we had visitors. One of his close friends from school/college and her boyfriend. Originally, they were coming to go to Expo (which, incidentally finishes on Saturday) but they couldn’t get up until Saturday afternoon so, instead, we went for a walk in the Porto Nuova area (the new area of Milan) and then on Sunday went to the Castle to see some exhibitions/museum things they have there.
The strange thing was that they were coming to stay one night (and not even 24 hours) and yet his friend (she is An2) was bringing the food for Saturday night. It all felt a bit wrong. She is, however, a wonderful cook and every summer we go to her place for an evening meal at least a couple of times. She always makes stuff that F really likes and there is always too much food.
Still, it all seemed wrong that they, as visitors, should be bringing the food.
We were going to be having lasagne and torta di riso.
So, on Friday, I mentioned to someone at work that they were doing this and got a blank expression when I mentioned the torta di riso. I had always assumed that every Italian would know about this. Basically, it’s a little like egg custard tart (which I love anyway and, as an aside, was one of my choices from the bakery when we had treats on a Friday when I was a kid) but, instead of a pastry base, it has a layer of rice on the bottom.
I tried to explain it (but it’s difficult if egg custard tart is not a point of reference.) But I then learnt that the food I’ve been getting in Carrara is local to Carrara! I don’t know why I’ve never really thought of it before. I mean, I had the apple and rice pastries which, to be honest, should have given me a clue since I’ve never seen them anywhere else!
So, I asked F about it. He explained that, yes, torta di riso was quite local. Even in Sarzana, a few miles away, they make torta di riso in a completely different way and, certainly, with many less eggs!
But, even the lasagne was different. Lasagne is known throughout Italy and the world but this is “open” lasagne (called lasagne sfordellate) and is basically small squares of pasta with a meat and tomato sauce. The pasta isn’t arranged in any way, it’s just like having spaghetti bolognese but using, square bits of pasta instead.
I remember having it a couple of times down there and I remember thinking, at the time, that it was strange that they called it lasagne (especially strange since lasagne also includes bechamel sauce, which this doesn’t have.)
As usual, the stuff she did was out of this world. The lasagne sfordellate was divine, the meat seasoned with herbs and spices and cooked in the tomato sauce.
The torta di riso was also divine, as usual. I learnt some things. 1. They use eggs (and I mean A LOT of eggs) when they do this tart with egg custard and rice. In this case, she had used 14 eggs! 2. It is baked in the oven (at 180°C) for 3 hours. Yes, THREE hours! And, on Sunday, was the day that I realised that the apple pastry and the rice pastry is not universal in Italy as she wanted the rice on and, of course, we couldn’t get it here (or, rather, we don’t know where one could be found.)
Of course, even in the UK, we have slight regional differences. For example, tripe is something I would only expect to find in the North West of the UK. But we’re talking a few things. Here, in Italy, there are so many things that are specific to a region.
So, here are some pictures, only one of which is the actual thing we had. The picture of the torta di riso is from someone’s blog where they only used 12 eggs, so, obviously, inferior 
Egg custard tarts (although you can have a big one too)
Torta di riso (I’ve never seen individual ones)
Lasagne sfordellate with An2 as the model. Bless here. She’s promised to do me lamb with roasted potatoes when we go down again. Can’t wait!
I have to say that I appreciate these foods we get in Carrara much more now. I understand the joke about the number of eggs better. I now know how much trouble they go to to create these dishes. Now F has the recipe for torta di riso so I expect one to be coming soon ………
Shit happens
He’s been back just over a week but it seems like F O R E V E R!
I’m not really complaining, of course, but it seems I’ve rarely have a good night’s sleep since he’s been back. Such is life.
Last night wasn’t too bad except that I woke up some time around 3 a.m. and, amongst the many thoughts that crowd my brain and keep me awake, was this blog. Can you believe that?
It started off by me thinking about my brother. We haven’t “been in touch” for about a year. He stopped emailing since I explained that F’s dad was dying and that everything was a bit “up in the air” and then, even though I’ve sent an email (or two), – nothing.
I’m not particularly bothered by it one way or another but I do wonder why. And this led to the blog.
After all the trouble I went to to move it, for some reason which I don’t really understand, I’ve let it slip a bit. It’s not like I don’t have anything to say, it’s more like I don’t want to write it all down, which is strange for me. As I’ve explained before, I tend to use it as some kind of therapy and yet, right now, it doesn’t seem to work as well as it did before. Or something.
I still have the same doubts and fears about the most stupid of things but I either don’t want to write about it or can’t be bothered.
And, without regular posts, of course, blogs become a bit defunct.
And then there’s the blogs that I have listed that have suddenly become “private”. I have emailed the guy for one of them, Man of Roma, and he said he’d email me after the summer but then he didn’t. And, if you can’t see the blog, you can’t see what’s going on. Or, maybe he’s not posting? In any event, you can’t tell if there’s anything happening in his life (not that it was really about his life, as such.)
So, here I am, after the middle-of-the-night thoughts, posting something to explain why I’m not posting much. If you see what I mean.
I do have some shit going on, of course, as usual but nothing I can write about since I do need to try and sort it in my head and find a “way round” the problem (which is all to do with the effiing bureaucracy here) but let’s see what I can do first.
And, then there’s other stuff. But it’s not like any of it is exactly life-threatening, so it will keep. And it’s not like my life is terrible, as opposed to friends who are ill or dying or struggling with life in general.
And, anyway, shit just happens, right?
Hopeful
Shhhhh!
Say this quietly.
It’s possible the trip won’t take in China (well, apart from Hong Kong) and that he’ll be back on Monday.
One can hope. It would mean just over two weeks away instead of three.
I don’t know why or what’s changed. And, at the moment, it’s not definite.
So, I’m whispering this.
And, crossing my fingers.
And, hoping (as is he.)
I’ll miss you too
“I will miss you.”
Things rarely said become more effective when said.
“And I’ll miss the bambini.”
Well, of course, but that gets said more often.
We’re now into day 3 of at least 16 days. At least 16 because, as yet, we don’t know (or, rather, I don’t know and he may or may not know … yet) if he’ll be required to stay in London for a day or two when he gets back there.
I followed the flight. Most of the flight was over Russia. Russia is a very big country which, although I knew that, following the flight and hours and hours of flying over terrain without towns and hardly any names to rivers and lakes (or seas), I appreciated it more.
Apparently he slept little and watched four films. The flight was over 11 hours. He is seven hours or so in front. As I write, it’s about 6.30 p.m. for him and not even lunchtime for me.
Of course, I’ve been busy. His cousin’s son and his girlfriend came to see Expo and stayed with us. Except he was only there for the Thursday night when they arrived. They stayed until Sunday. So, really, they stayed with me and not us. It was OK. They were at Expo all day Friday and then all day and into the evening on Saturday.
On Sunday, after breakfast, I tried to tell them how to go to the new Porta Nuova area but it was difficult to explain with my bad Italian so I offered to take them. I did my usual walk from there down Corso Como, Corso Garibaldi and into Brera – then we took a tram to the centre of Milan and I left them there. I think they were grateful.
F just phoned me. He has to phone when he can which is not that often since he doesn’t want to run up a huge telephone bill. It’s OK. These snatches of conversation are better than nothing.
I will be quite busy over the next few weeks – also because he’s not here – and that will make the time go really fast. Plus I have a load of films to watch so it’s not all bad. It just gets a bit exhausting – getting up earlier to take the dogs out, doing everything that needs doing, etc. But it’s OK.
He is working too and won’t get so much time to go and visit the cities he will be in. It won’t really be a walk in the park for him.
But, I will be so happy when he’s back and, from his comment, so will he.
And, as I replied to him – “I’ll miss you too.”
Days yet to come
It is possible, of course, that this is the earliest ever …. for me.
Yesterday, I ordered the first Christmas present for F. And, today another! So that’s two presents down.
But that’s not why I’m writing today.
I’m writing because I’m quite concerned. I am concerned that, in our desire to be correctly politically correct, we are forgetting some basic truths.
One that IS important is about rape, for example.
Let’s get one thing straight, in a perfect world, anyone should be able to walk down the street wearing what they want; to get drunk without fear of being raped, etc. The message (generally to men) shouldn’t have to be “Don’t Rape”” because, to be frank, it shouldn’t be necessary.
Unfortunately, this is NOT an ideal world. The message that should go out more should be “Don’t Rape” and with that message should be the education about what is rape and what is consent. But, in the same way that we tell people not to steal and not to drink & drive, there are some people who don’t seem to understand and, therefore, still do it.
Of course, we should try to educate them and get them to understand that what they are doing is wrong. But, sometimes, it is too late for they have already committed rape. And there are people out there who will, in the next few day, week, months, years, commit rape.
So, how is it possible to stop this without resorting to Minority Report-style policing? If we are unable to stop some men from thinking it’s OK to rape some women, what can we do to help? If you cannot stop the perpetrator, what else can we do? The only thing left is to address the victims. What can they do to help stop this? Well, for example, wearing a skirt which barely covers your arse, doesn’t help, surely. Drunkenly weaving about the street may also not help. Neither of these things will, necessarily, save you but it might just help a bit.
And, yet, were I to say those things out of context, they would certainly be taken the wrong way.
And so, I feel a little bit sorry for Matt Damon. Unfortunately, there IS discrimination against gay people, in spite of any legislation you may care to pass. In the same way, there is discrimination against women. But he was correct in saying that the best thing to do in his business, is to keep silent (about being gay – it’s a bit more difficult to be silent about being a woman, if you ARE one.) Again, don’t get me wrong. It shouldn’t be necessary. In an ideal world, who you go to bed with shouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to the work you attract as an actor. But it is. Certain people can “get away with it” but certain people cannot and, if you’re at the start of your career, don’t go coming out, was his message.
And now, some people are saying he’s wrong and homophobic. See, I don’t see it that way. He was stating a fact about the world as it is, not the perfect world that it should be.
On the other hand, if no one came out, ever, than things would never change. So we should applaud those who do it for they are the trailblazers for young people coming up. They are brave and they have, almost certainly, sacrificed their career and possibly millions of dollars by simply saying that they are gay.
It IS a changing world but I don’t think it’s right to jump down the throats of those people who are saying something that applies to the real, here-and-now world that we inhabit.
One day, I hope within my lifetime, a girl/woman will be safe to walk down the street and not get raped – even if she is wearing nothing at all, should she wish. And, one day, no one will be secretly penalised for not being “normal”.
But that day is yet to come.
p.s. The song, from one of my favourite artists, 2Pac, called Better Dayz came up when I was looking for a picture to post at the top of the post. So, instead, you got the song 
Which hat do I want?
Sometimes I feel I should have taken a Hippocratic Oath. Or that it should be a requirement of the job. Or that it should fall under the Confessions to a Priest thing.
For, at times, I am advisor, office assistant, writer of fine words, solver of problems, sounding board and priest-like listener doling out tea and sympathy (metaphorically speaking.)
Of course, there are the “straight” students. The ones for whom it is a matter of grammar and vocabulary. But there are the occasional ones where you get, over a period of weeks and months, to be let in on the most secret of secrets. And, I take it seriously. I don’t tell anyone, not even F.
But, tonight, possibly, comes the role of “voice coach”. I don’t actually know yet. Someone (who is a “someone important” for an important Italian company) has to make a presentation. It was originally thought to have to be in Italian but, at the last minute this person learned that it was to be in English.
It might be a writing of a presentation in English. Or, it might have already been written and it’s a matter of pronunciation and cadence and inflection. I don’t know. Yet.
Of course, one single hour is not enough time for whatever it is, but it’s all I have so it will have to do. It will be better than nothing, I suppose. We shall see. And, of course, it’s for a friend of a friend/student so I couldn’t really say “no”, could I?
But I wonder which hat, of the many hats I use, I should don tonight?
Same thing, different country.
“Not one of them is Italian!”
“None of them?”
It seems not. Except the “foreman” or someone like that. Or, at least, he speaks Italian.
I ask what they are. I am told Romanian. Ah yes, of course.
There are lots of tut-tutting and shaking of heads. What is the world coming to?
I say that this is similar to the UK. A lot of builders are Polish or Romanian (I have read).
Except that, as an immigrant myself, I don’t tut-tut nor shake my head. I also know that there are many Italians who would rather not do this type of work – carrying heavy windows up the stairs, balancing precariously on the ledge where the old window was whilst fitting the new window. And, anyway, these people will be cheaper, I’m sure.
It’s not a job that I’d like to do and quite possibly, I would be crap at it anyway.
My old hairdresser was Romanian. I doubt if he could have gone round fitting windows either. A waitress (until the end of the month when she goes to be an air hostess) in one of the local restaurants that we like is Romanian. Romanians are everywhere and in all sorts of service jobs. It doesn’t make them bad people.
Still, the reaction from the Italians is much the same as I’ve seen from the British.
I am saddened by it.