Post 200; Mongolian Barbeque and other food for the weekend; Clowny WILL be a real word!

Well, first, this is the 200th (published) post!* Considering I have been doing this blog for a number of years, 200 doesn’t seem that much. But it is some sort of milestone, I guess.

My 2nd week back at work and, the weekend just gone was also back to normal, if not busier.

Friday we were supposed to go and see FfI, who had the really bad accident at the end of July. However, she was on new drugs and very groggy so it was rearranged for Saturday. Then, on Saturday morning, A texted to suggest the Mongolian Barbeque restaurant. We agreed. So it was, kind of, apero at FfI’s about 5, then 9.30 we were at the Mongolian Barbeque. What a great place.

We had starters, which were “pick your own”. I chose a few small meatballs with a gravy with some roast potatoes and, incredibly, they tasted just like faggots. Now I really love faggots – you know, Brains – and we can’t get them here, so I was delighted to taste these.

Then we went up, selected our raw meat and then gave it to the cooks to griddle. And it all tasted superb. All this for a fixed price of €18. Great value for money. Even better for Sunday Lunch where the fixed price is €12. It doesn’t include drink but it’s still not bad.

The only thing to remember is that, should you not eat everything on your plate that you have chosen, they make a surcharge of between €5-10! Can’t say I blame them really as it ensures that people don’t just pile their plate and leave a load of stuff to be thrown away. However, this is a bit of a struggle for V who, as normal with free food, takes much more than he needs – and then can’t eat it! So he spent a while trying to convince everyone else to take some. Luckily, there was A – who is more like a human dustbin!!

Anyway, the food was very, very good and the experience of queuing up and watching your food being cooked, is also good. Worth checking out. It’s on Via Monte Nero in Milan, should you choose to go. Do book as it’s very popular.

Sunday was a really nice brunch with N followed by a surprise visit by friends from the UK who were catching flights back today. For the price of a nice Indian meal they stayed with us. And it was great to see them.

V was explaining about Dino to them, with the usual, ‘I never wanted another dog’ and he actually said ‘he does many clowny things!’. Now, I’m not sure why he said it. Nobody picked up on it and I said nothing. Maybe he remembered the word when we played scrabble that time with S & P. The story is that, in order to get a decent score, I made up the word and, although P, in particular, was sure it was a made-up word, no-one challenged me officially for fear of losing a go.

I made a very good explanation of why it was a real word, even though I knew that it probably wasn’t.

Anyway, now that V has said it to others, I’m sure that, in a few years, it will enter the dictionary and become a real word. And, when it does, you will know that I invented it!

It seems a perfect end to my 200th post, don’t you think?

* Unfortunately, not any more. I have deleted some posts since the move here. This is probably somewhere around the 195th post now.

Another (scary) First; Parking the car at work.

I tried to get out of it but not so that it was obvious. My heart was pounding, my stomach muscles (what’s left of them) were flexed, almost painfully. I tried to relax. I forced myself to relax and it almost worked.

Continue reading

Gianna Nannini

Gianna Nannini or, as I thought for ages, Gian Annanini (although why some woman would have a blokes name, God only knows), was truly fantastic. Her name is pronounced Janananini as there is no gap when you say it.

This is helped, no doubt, by the fact that the last concert (and first here, in Italy) that I went to was…wait for it…Robbie Williams!

Continue reading

A weekend away – 2; What do they want with Vanda?; The season of the wardrobe change

And the weather was truly fantastic. On Sunday from about 11.30 a.m. for about 3 hours or so, we sat outside a café, in the sun, without coats, watching the lake and the people, Rufus lying at our feet (having had several long walks already that day).

Continue reading

Segovia or bust!

Well, here I am at another literary festival. This one is one run by the Hay Festival but in Segovia, near Madrid.

To get here I had, what I can only describe as the journey from hell which I would hope to post about later, when I have more time. However, there was a point (probably after we had been sitting on the tarmac for over an hour) when I really thought I wouldn’t get here this side of Christmas!

I arrived in Segovia at about 1.30 a.m. this morning. Had a few beers with S, got to bed about 3.30 a.m. and was up at 8 to be at the Box Office for 10.

So, we have the normal problems with the Box Office (people picking the wrong events, tickets not having arrived, leaving their tickets at home, etc.) plus the added joy of everything being in a foreign language – and I’m a little tired.

However, unlike Hay, we closed the Box Office for a whole hour for lunch; I was interviewed by some Spanish television company; the sun is shining; and we are likely to finish the Box Office before midnight.

Also I have met some lovely people already, including some Italians who are helping out here. It’s quite nice to talk to them and they are very sweet. They are ‘stage’ (like an unpaid apprentice) in Madrid for one of the Festival organiser’s husband.

I am, of course, stuck in the Tourist Information centre here, which is where we have our system set up.

I’ve just been interrupted by a lady trying to find out how to work her video camera. Obviously, being the TIC, they are supposed to be able to answer any sort of question. Aren’t people strange?

We have a firework display this evening to mark the opening of the Festival in Segovia and I will, hopefully, see some of it.

More later…

Banking in Italy, foreign cheques, banking online

I have a cheque to pay in to the bank. It’s drawn from a UK bank and in sterling (obviously). I want to pay it into my bank here, in Milan. The bank is through the Post Office as it’s the cheapest around (we don’t get free banking here, guys).

I go to the PO and take my ticket. This is much, much better than the old days. Previously, going to the PO was a nightmare, queuing not really being an Italian thing. But now you have to have a ticket, just like at the deli counter in a UK supermarket. When your number shows up at a counter, you go to that counter. All very civilized here.

As it is holiday time and nobody is back yet, my number comes up straight away. I go to the counter and hand over the cheque, explaining that I want to pay it into my account. The nice lady (who is, by the way, bloody useless) looks at the cheque. Reads the cheque (except she can’t read English). I explain that it’s a cheque from England and in sterling and that the bank on the cheque is a UK bank. She turns it over. The back has nothing on it. She returns to the front of the cheque. She reads it all again. She has a discussion with another teller (who I’ve never seen before, so I guess is new here). They discuss it but I don’t know what they are saying.

She says we should go to the wonderful lady (WL) at the end counter. She is wonderful because she a) speaks a little English, b) seems to know what she is doing and c) is extremely helpful to us whenever we go.

So WL looks at the cheque. She has a conversation with the nice lady (who then darts back to her counter, never to be seen again. I think she was just glad to be rid of the problem. WL and I have a small (because my Italian is very poor) discussion about the cheque. Other PO employees come over to join in. A man who looks like the manager of the PO also joins in. WL checks the general terms and conditions to see how, or even if they can, accept a cheque that is not Italian and, worse, not in Euros. But the Ts&Cs are too general.

She suggests that I go to the main post office in town. I ask if we can try here and because she is the WL, she says OK

She tries entering the details via the computer. Unfortunately, but obviously, the computer wants the value in Euros. The cheque is in pounds. She goes away.

I look at things. Leaflets, posters, etc. I wait. I wait some more. I cannot see where WL has gone. I move up the counters to see if I can see her. She is on the phone at the back.

I wait some more……!

She comes back with a form. A different form to that used for paying in. Not a normal duplicate form but it may have been faxed to her.

She explains that it may take up to a month to clear. This is no surprise. I had read about this on another blog/site. I say that it’s OK. She says it may take less, as if to apologise for how tardy they are here.

She fills in the form and gets me to sign it. Then, because it is not a duplicate form she has to take a photocopy so that I have a copy of it.

And that’s it! Well, obviously, I now have to wait to see how much I get charged and how long it takes. We shall see and I will try to remember to post the results on this blog.

Then she tries to get me to sign up to online banking. I think she thinks that it may stop me coming in so often :-). I explain that I’ve tried but it seems difficult. She fills in a form (absolutely every transaction you do requires a form).

I sign the form. Then, on her computer, she shows me what site to go to to register. Apparently I will get a telegram with a code that will finally allow me to bank online. She gives a long list of terms and conditions with prices. And she writes a helpline number on top to call if I have problems and suggests that, maybe, someone will speak English there.

I go home. I try. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t like something. I think it’s my Codice Fiscale (like National Insurance Number – but used for everything here – almost to the point of being required for supermarket shopping) but I can’t be sure.

I read some of the charges. I note that, even if I pay a bill online, it will still cost me 1 Euro. I can’t wait until the banks here are in foreign hands and there is some real competition.

That was all yesterday.

Today, I go back. I explain that I couldn’t do it and that I tried to ring the helpline number but nobody spoke English and it was too difficult to explain my problem. I ask if we can try it here – on her computer.

We try. She gets the same message. And then we have a whole conversation about whether I am a resident. I’m not. Not yet. I’ve applied but it takes three months! I only did it for the car (that I now need to sell).

She looks on my initial application for the bank and sees that I’m not a resident. But then finds that, on the computer I am classed as a resident. She suggests that I try the alternative registration option of non-resident. We start to try it but it requires different information that she doesn’t have.

I say I’ll try it at home. I did. It works. It says I will get a telegram (I think). This will be interesting to see if it works. I’ll let you know.

A Grand Day Out

In the UK, if someone suggests a trip out, where you were going to travel for two hours to get there and two to get back, you would tend to make a day of it. So, for instance, when we lived in Herefordshire and you decided to go to, let’s say Aberystwyth, you would set of at, say, 10 a.m., reach Aberystwyth, have lunch, enjoy the afternoon having a walk around and set off home at 6 or 7 p.m.

Continue reading