Tag Archives: Dino

He comes to stay. And other things

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I went to a second-hand book fair last Saturday.  It was organised by the Anglican Church in Milan of which, one of my friends here is a member.

I came away with 6 books to add to my other 2 that I am saving for the summer weekends and weeks on the beach.  I can’t remember all the titles or authors but they included Bleak House which I have never actually read.

In fact, I realised as I bought it, the only Dickens I have read was when I was at school and I thought it was about time I read one of them for pleasure.

Previously, I had bought Life of Pi and the Hilary Mantel book, Wolf Hall, her historical fictional account of Thomas Cromwell’s rise to power.  In fact, I shouldn’t have bought Life of Pi at all.  I was lent it by someone but then Piero got it and it was turned into small pieces of paper, spread all over the flat, so I bought another copy and I might as well read it before I give it back.

So, that’s my summer reading all sorted now.  All I need is summer which is taking a rather long time to come through and all the rain we are having is rather annoying, not to say anything about how cold it is.

F, having spent all last week in Spain (for work), became ill but still travelled down to his Aunt and Uncle’s 50th Wedding Anniversary “party” on Saturday.  I was invited but I don’t think he was so keen for me to go, so I didn’t.  However, he rang me during the meal because his Aunt wanted to thank me for the present (which F bought in Spain – but which he said was from both of us) and his cousin just wanted to say hello.  It’s nice of them but I still get confused with S and, in fact, his Aunt called me S.

But that really doesn’t bother me at all on the basis that they see us as a couple in the same was as F & S were and, after all, they’re both foreign names to them :-)

F only went down for the day (the party was a lunch) but by the time he came back he was worse.

Sunday we went to the hospital.  The sister of P (One of F’s best friends and who got married last year in Villa Singer), E, has just had her kidney replaced (she had been on dialysis for ages) and, until the middle of last week, had been doing so well, they were going to send her home.  Then it started rejecting and so they needed to put her on stronger drugs and keep her monitored.  Obviously, as she comes from Cararra, she is a long way from home and F tries to see her as often as possible.  Sunday, we went together.

The hospital is one of the biggest in Milan and only a little way outside the city. It took us about 10 minutes to get there by car).  The strange thing was that, apart from the hospital beds and people walking around with bags hanging from them containing liquids of various kinds, it didn’t actually SEEM like a hospital. I mean it didn’t have the usual hospital smell that I really hate. It almost seemed quite nice!

Anyway, P rang F later to say that she had been very happy to see us, so that was nice.

By Sunday night F was feeling worse. Yesterday, he didn’t go to work and this morning, he went to the doctors to be told he had otitis and he’s off work until Friday (which is good because we have the Lisa Stansfield concert on Friday night).

Now, here’s thing. I mean to say, here’s the point of this post.

F doesn’t really do being ill very well. In fact, he always prefers (he says), to be on his own.

However, he has gone home, on his way back from the doctor’s, to get changes of clothes before he comes to my place to stay with the dogs! This is a huge difference from previous illnesses when he would go home and stay there. Of course, I guess it helps that I am there in the evenings to make drinks and other things for him. Bless.

A fantastic Easter

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A day late, I know but, Happy Easter.

Probably, this was one of the best Easters I’ve had.

Yesterday, it was just the four of us. And, like Christmas, it was just us. F had cleaned the flat the day before and I mean “cleaned”. Doing the top of the cupboards, picture frames, etc. Stopping occasionally to show me the cloth. I’m afraid I was not really impressed since I knew that the cloth would show that neither I nor my cleaner do these bits (and, most certainly not I). However, it seemed to make him happy.

So the house was incredibly clean – what I would call “spring cleaned” even if the weather doesn’t really feel like spring – far too cold and wet and downright miserable. Still, at least we don’t live in the UK where they still have it in the minus figures and have snow and stuff.

We got up. I took the dogs for a walk whilst F cleaned (obviously!) the floors. Then we went to have breakfast and pick up the colomba (the traditional Easter cake here which is actually similar to pannetone – a kind of bread-like cake but with a different shape) and then we spent a few hours relaxing a bit before starting the lunch.

I was having lamb which, these days, I don’t eat so much since F will not eat it. Just lamb chops but better than nothing. I had made some fish cakes for him. Obviously, being in Italy, some ingredients are hard to find. I had walked the length of Corso Buenos Aries and back looking for the only fish shop I know in this area but, unfortunately, either it has closed down or it was closed for that day because I couldn’t find it. In the end I chose some salt cod and added a bit of smoked swordfish (it was supposed to be smoked haddock) which I got from the supermarket. The other ingredient I needed was cardamom seeds (but for the sweet I had planned). Again, this is not easy to find but, after trudging through the relentless rain on Saturday, eventually I found some in a herb shop.

So, Saturday afternoon was spent by creating the fish cakes and then doing the sweet. The sweet was a chocolate mouse (well, it is Easter). I think I used nearly all the bowls in the kitchen to create the chocolate mouse! Melted chocolate, separated eggs, whipped cream, orange juice and grated rind, etc.

And, so, Easter lunch was, in the end easy and lovely. F did a mix of courgettes, carrots and leeks, thinly sliced and fried until they were just soft. I did roast potatoes to go with the lamb and fish cakes. We had bought lasagne from our usual place. After an antipasto of some meats with bread, the lasagne for primo piato and the main course, we were both quite well fed. The fish cakes, by the way, were superb. I had make six and cooked two (the rest went in the freezer) but F only managed to eat one so the other will be for today, shared between us. My improvisation regarding the fish seemed to work fine.

We couldn’t eat sweet straight away and so took the dogs for a long walk. The sunshine was out and it was much warmer.

Then we came back and had the chocolate mouse (which was really good), a piece of colomba and some of the Easter egg that F had bought. And we finished off the bottle of wine – EACH! He had white and I, red.

And, as you see, nothing really special and, yet, very special, like Christmas – we spend all day together and cook together and take the dogs for a walk and, somehow, it is so relaxing and enjoyable and I really love it.

One day, hopefully soon, we shall be able to do that more often.

Dino is 5

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Well, he was 5. Yesterday.

Above is the cake, lovingly prepared by F.

It looks rather good, doesn’t it. Obviously, unless you’re a fan of steak tartare and dog biscuits and little dog treats that said, on the pack, “chicken sandwich”, which, of course, they weren’t, then you wouldn’t be so keen.

However, Dino liked it a lot. There was a smaller version, without candles, for Piero.

He also had lots of presents

as you can see. Although, I think that Piero enjoyed them even more than Dino did. All of the above were bought by Frankie. I bought chewy things like the one below

And, once again, the place was full of balloons :-)

I think Dino enjoyed it. Also Piero.

Their favourite toy is the big white chicken thing, at the moment.

Next is Piero’s first birthday at the end of April and, I suppose, we shall have to do this all again.

Piero is nearly as big as Dino!

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Piero has grown.

In fact, everyone who hasn’t seen him for more than about a week comments on how fast he has grown.

And he has. His shoulders are now just a few inches below Dino’s. He hasn’t got Dino’s bulk (not that Dino is fat, jut muscled) nor power but he’s working on it. The games of ‘tug’ that they have every night prove this.

Piero is still very ‘cute’ though, even if he is nearly the same size.

And it got me to thinking about whether Dino was this big when he was seven months old. I thought I might have commented on it in the blog so went back a way to see if I could find out. I didn’t find it. Instead, what I found was the end of V and I (Dino was just about 10 months old at the time). I should go back, from time to time, to see what was happening then.

For example, I found the post where I had been to see the flat that I am now living in.

I found some posts that were quite well written. But then, a tortured mind seems to a requisite for good writing. Perhaps I should randomly go back and have a look at some posts I wrote? It’s interesting to see the change from a different year. After all, this blog has been going for nearly 7 years now and a lot of things have changed in those seven years.

Anyway, back to Piero.

He is cute, he is much bigger, he is more affectionate, he is very, very playful and he is a right little bastard.

But wonderful too.

However, Dino is still the best dog ever.

But I love them both, just the same. And, as my friend C, from London, wrote recently, F REALLY loves the dogs. So all is well.

A no-painting Saturday

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There was no painting because, until Saturday evening, there was no F, being as he was in Germany.

I went to pick him up from the airport, with the dogs. Piero was sick on the way back. It was unexpected because, after the first couple of times, he was fine going to and from Carrara. Ah well, poor thing, I shall have to remember that he’s still a little bit dodgy when it comes to car travel.

However, they were very pleased to see him, as was I.

And, although nothing particular got done over the weekend, I quite enjoyed it and felt quite happy this morning.

Work soon changed that, even if I was busy this morning.

This weekend, apparently, will be the lounge.

Christmas is coming …..

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Further to my post about Amazon and my desire NOT to use them, I have to tell you that it’s actually quite difficult. I found a website – The Book Depository – who were independent – until being swallowed by Amazon. I ordered from them anyway. I found Powell’s – but it’s an American site.

It seems that Amazon have got the market pretty well stitched up. I’m still working on it.

But, back to Christmas presents. One thing was bought months ago. Unfortunately, he saw one of them in a shop abroad and said they were not that good. Oh well, it’s bought now.

Then there’s the turntable. This is proving more difficult. I have delved around the Internet and found a couple that are good contenders – but trying to find a shop (any shop) in Milan that might stock anything like them, is proving difficult. I may have found some but I’ll have to go and look. Luckily, they’re quite near my flat.

Then there is the problem of other things. In past years, buying DVDs or books means a trawl through the Amazon site but as I said above, I am making a concerted effort NOT to use them.

Then I shall buy him an Italian version of the movie “Up” – if I can find it. He liked the version I played to him – but it was in English and it would be better for him in Italian.

Other things must be thought of. But it’s difficult when every Saturday is the dreaded painting.

Last Saturday, it was the hall. But, I must admit, it’s looking a lot better. We reorganised the furniture so now it looks (and is) much larger.

He has been saying to people that he is looking forward to Christmas and having a tree and cooking (which he generally doesn’t like) and being with the dogs. Me too. I will buy the tree but, of course, he will decorate :-)

And the flat will be newly painted and very clean, of course.

But, for now, the getting of the presents is the most important thing.

And finding an alternative to Amazon would be good, if anyone has any bright ideas.

At long, long, last!

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F-I-N-A-L-L-Y!

I suppose everyone does this, don’t they?

I look back at the very few photographs I have and think that, actually, I was quite good looking. By which, I mean that, at the time, I didn’t realise it or I thought that, whereas not downright ugly, I was not “all that”.

And, of course, at that moment, what I thought looked really cool, actually may not have looked that good. But looking back at these phtographs, I realise that, actually, I was quite good looking and I wish I had known that then, at that time and, better, had done something with it.

But, physically, my ideas of how I looked are NOT the same as the reality.

For example, for many, many years, in my head, I had a button nose. Even when I looked in the mirror, that’s what I saw. I hated this button nose. I wanted a long one, perhaps more of a Roman one. In fact, I would spend time pulling my nose down and out as I really hated this button nose.

It wasn’t until I mentioned it one time in company that I was put straight about this thing. I didn’t have, and never had had, such a thing as a button nose.

Now, although I realise this to be true, my mind plays tricks on me and, occasionally, I still think of it as a button nose. Which, even as I think about it, I know not to be true – like now, when I’m writing this. Still, in my head (at this moment), I think of it as short, stubby abd turned up.

The other thing that’s important to me, as far as physical looks go, is my hair. This has been so every since I can remember. At 12 I was telling my parents that “everyone has long hair at school, and I want long hair too”. Really! I only “saw” long hair on other kids but now, I realise, this cannot have been true.

My hair has always been ‘important’ to me. When I was about 17 or so was the ‘best time’ (apart from the other best times, of course). In reverse order, I’ve had very short and natural grey, very short and not-natural, almost-black, slightly longer and black, shortish and natural, longish and natural, spikey and long and blonde, normal and natural, long almost to my waist and natural, longish, just past shoulder-length and natural (the ‘best one’), spikey and sometimes blue and before that I don’t remember.

But, since F convinced me to stop dying my hair (and I ended up with the first one in the above list), I haven’t been entirely happy. So, since the summer before last, I grew it.

In my head, it reminds me of the ‘best’ one from when I was 17.

In the mirror, I see a head full of hair, longish flowing locks, nearly as it should be – but not quite.

And then I see photos of myself now. It looks quite dreadful. In the photo. In the mirror (and my head) it looks nothing like that. I picture myself as I was at 17, just back from holiday, brown, with these flowing locks and looking really good.

And, even if I know that the camera doesn’t lie, I still think that it does. Or, at least, it distorts. Maybe it wasn’t a good day? Maybe it was a little windy?

And my hair is thinner now. I know this for if I put a mirror to show me the back of my head, you can see I’m going a bit bald. Except I was thinking that about 20 years ago. It just never really quite happened! But I am certain it’s much thinner than it was and the almost-bald-patch is now almoster bald.

So, where were we?

Ah, yes. So, in my head and when I look at myself in a mirror, I am almost the same as when I was 17. Except I’m not, of course.

And I started growing it because I wanted a style. Some sort of style but I wasn’t sure what. I thought: if I grow it I can choose what to have. Except, after almost a couple of years I’m no closer to making a decision.

And, even if I’ve asked F for his advice, I get nothing from him. And I’ve been wanting him to suggest something or say something but I could solicit nothing.

Until last night.

For our anniversary, as normal, I came with a last-minute idea for a present. The present was one of those digital picture frames. I’ve always thought they were a bit of a waste of time but, you know, when you have little idea of what to buy, it came in a flash that this might be something he would like, being keen on photography and all.

And, it turns out, it was a great choice. He loves it. And so he spent a long time putting over 300 photos on it which he brought over last night to show me. Of course, they are 300+ photos of the dogs!

But in some of them, there is him or me (with the dogs).

One came up of me the summer before last, when we were on holiday in Umbria, just before I started growing my hair.

“You should cut your hair,” he says, when he sees it. “Short hair makes you look younger.” I tell him that I am very happy that he is making some comment. And I AM very happy. It’s just not quite the comment that I want.

Sure, I want to look younger.

I’m not that bothered about looking younger.

Maybe he WANTS me to look younger? Maybe he thinks that I look much older now? I want to do what he wants. I don’t care about being younger or older and, yet, …… I do care on some level.

Later I suggest that I need a style and should he see something, to tell me. His response was “It’s too thin.” He means, of course, go and get it cut, really short, all over – like it was.

In my head, of course, it’s not at all THAT thin. I reply that it’s been like this for years and years.

But he’s right, of course. He suggests that maybe I can keep it like this for the winter and get it cut in the spring. He doesn’t really think that, of course. He’s just saying that. Maybe my face said too much?

Of course, this isn’t really what I want to hear but, in his way, he’s being nice whilst being quite direct. This idea I had that I have hair like I was 17 or, even, that I had almost convinced myself that I look like some old, eccentric, English professor should be banished from my brain. Should be but it’s very difficult to do.

And, although I absolutely HATE the idea of not having a choice any more, he is, of course, quite right. And I am so glad that he’s finally said SOMETHING!

Now all I have to do is to summon up the courage to go and get it done! This is not easy for me and will take me some time and then I have to choose somewhere to have it done. This, too, is quite difficult. I have to pick the right place. I remember when I went from waist-length to quite short, when I first went to work. It was almost the most excruciatingly painful thing I had ever done (not physically but mentally). I can only imagine how Samson must have felt. This will be the same.

I am convinced that no one else has this problem (the pain of having one’s hair cut). For no one else does it seem such a big deal. I don’t even know why it is for me. It’s just weird! It’s the stuff in my head …. again!

Or, maybe I CAN find a style ………..?????

A change.

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It all feels a bit unreal.

As if I’m in some sort of fuggy dream. As if I’m not really there.

The change seems overnight although, in reality, it’s over a weekend.

And now, for me, it’s a race to the other end; a race to the light – almost literally.

I had promised to take the dogs out this morning as it was probably going to be raining and would probably keep right on raining until later in the morning. Which it has.

Although, when we were out, it didn’t seem too bad; not the heavy rain predicted, more of a lighter rain – the one just after or just before the heavy rain. It was dark, of course, but, then. it had been dark at this time for a few weeks.

As we approach the second traffic lights, they change from flashing amber to the normal red/green. I thought I must be late but, instead, it’s the lights’ change that’s early – by about 5 minutes.

The dogs (even Piero) keep as close to the buildings as possible.

I don’t let them into the dog area. They are wet already and there’s no need to get them really dirty as the puddles testify that the area will be just mud. Anyway, there are no other dogs in there (and probably won’t be, at least this morning), so Piero isn’t missing any play time. But, then, there aren’t usually any dogs in here at this time.

It’s raining, slightly, but not really ‘cold’ as such. About 13 degrees.

We walk back home. We, all three of us, want to get back.

As we wait for the lift, Dino is trying to dry himself on the walls. He looks forward to the towelling he has when he gets wet.

We get in the flat and I get the towels, Dino not taking his eyes off me, knowing what’s coming. Obviously, I do him first, dropping the towel on his head and starting to rub him down vigorously. He throws himself into this ritual and I think he would like it if I didn’t stop – but the other one has to be done.

The other one, on the other hand, does not really like it and tries to escape. But he’s still small enough to be able to keep in check without too much effort and he gets ‘done’ anyway.

I get ready and have coffee and leave to go to work.

It’s still raining – in much the same way – not too hard.

The car is close and, since it’s service, starts first time, which is great.

But it’s the drive to work that’s different. It’s still dark. It’s miserable. And different to Friday morning when it was light.

Of course, it’s made darker by the rain clouds.

But, as I drive, I don’t feel altogether “there” and it’s unnerving.

The traffic is, for the most part, quite light. Soon it won’t be like this.

It starts to get light on my way but I see the 50-shades-of-grey clouds, patchy and bleak, in the sky.

The race is on to February or March when it will (hopefully) get warmer and brighter.

On the plus side, F noticed that the heating was on last night (at home, obviously. At work the place is close to fridge conditions – especially as these fucking crazy Italians feel the need to change the air – or let the bloody cold in, as I like to say) and I am VERY happy about that.

We have successes and setbacks.

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Further to my post below. It worked! Well, it worked at one level.

About 6.30 a.m., Sunday, I heard the start of playing.

I encouraged them out of the bedroom and shut the doors, putting something behind the doors to stop them opening.

Only once did I hear an attempt to get through. There was no whimpering or other noise. I slept until 9!

So, Sunday was a good day.

F suggested that I get some sort of latch so we can latch the door. In fact, I will be getting two. One for when we are in the bedroom and one for when we are not.

The reason for the latter is because of two reasons.

1. Sunday night, we got back from having a pizza and, as usual, the dogs came to greet us. Piero was a bit late. As I thought, he had been on the bed. Worse, he had taken soomething fromo the bedside table and destroyed it. It wasn’t important in that it was only a box of plasters but that wasn’t really the point. The getting on the bed has to stop.

Of course, the problem is that it is not possible to enter the bedroom without coming into the flat through the front door – which always gives him time to get off the bed.

2. On Monday morning I got up a little later as F was going to take them out. I got up and, as usual, Piero was asleep in the lounge. I closed the doors to the bedroom and got ready for work, had a coffee, etc. Piero was completely quiet. When I left, I had opened the doors to the lounge but not the bedroom. Apparently, at about 7.30, he started whimpering, which woke F up.

So, for these two reasons, a latch or latches of some kind must be bought and fixed. And it’s not so simple either. The latches must be operable from both sides since I must be able to close the door from outside the bedroom and yet F must be able to open it when he gets up.

Actually this may require a ‘man’ to do it.

But, you may ask, why don’t you just shut the door properly?

Well, the problem is that these doors are very old (possibly as old as the flat) and they have warped and been painted over numerous times so that they a) don’t close exactly and b) anyway the handle doesn’t actually work.

On a more positive note, this morning, both dogs came with me as I went to get ready and have coffee. Again, I left the flat leaving the bedroom door closed but Dino knows you just need to push it. F informed me that, this morning, they were quiet.

Things HAVE to change.

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It’s about 6.30.

6.30 in the morning.

6.30 on a Saturday morning.

After a week of getting up at 5.40.

We stir enough for Piero to come in from the balcony. It is light. Dawn has broken.

In his mind, light = day. Movement = awake. Day and awake means getting up and going for a walk.

We don’t move from the bed. It is September and Autumn has well and truly arrived. It is cold, not helped by the balcony window being open. The bed is warm. F is warm. I need another hour or an hour and a half.

Piero doesn’t.

Piero tries to get our attention, which doesn’t work. So, he turns his attention to Dino.

He wants to play if he can’t go out for a walk. Dino is more like us and doesn’t want to play.

There is some playing on Piero’s side.

Dino gets fed up and gets on the bed. On Frankie’s side, of course. He lies down.

Piero puts his front paws on the bed but it seems a little too high for him (thank goodness).

I try to go back to sleep.

After a few minutes, Piero makes it onto the bed. Dino moves further up the bed. F, who is under the covers, whispers ‘Ti voglio bene’ (meaning I love you – as you would say to a child/relative/close friend). This sets Dino off and he moves further up the bed so that he is almost sitting on F’s face. Partly to get away from TLB (The Little Bastard) and partly because of what F has whispered to him.

F gets up. It is about 7.

We talk later about this. I tell him that this is not acceptable. He agrees. I say we should shut them out – shut them in the kitchen. F doesn’t want to do that. He says we can close the bedroom door. It doesn’t close properly – they will come through, I point out. He says we can put something behind it, like the laundry basket.

So, tomorrow morning, about 6.30 a.m., I guess, I will, most likely, be getting up to shut the door to the bedroom and, hopefully, giving us more time to sleep.

God, I really hope so. I feel as tired now, as I write this, as I did before the holidays!