Tag Archives: Restaurants

Cold; snow.

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18/03/10

There is snow, deep snow, everywhere. They say that this is not normally the case. By now, apparently, it should all be gone. But it’s piled deeply at the sides of the road and paths.

Last night, as we walked around the old town part of the capital city we were so cold. It was so cold. It was worse, even, after dinner and so we just went back to the hotel.

Anyway, I’ve been here before when it was somewhat warmer and so I didn’t need to see it again.

The meal was good. The service nice. The prices high.

Still, I couldn’t live here even if, for most of my teenage life it was my dream to come and live here! I say that but, of course, I could live there, if it was really necessary.

But, then, I already live in the place I want to live.

Ristorante Leon d’Oro

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As you may know, if you’ve been reading this blog for a while, I really like the Imperiale – a Chinese restaurant around the corner from my place (link on the side).  It is the only Chinese that makes Chinese food more or less the same as the UK and, in particular, it does Peking Duck (you know, rolled in pancakes with plum sauce and stuff).

I have been there a lot.  Run by a husband and wife team, the husband was always experimenting with dishes, trying a mix of Japanese, Chinese and Thai ingredients and, every time we went, would encourage us to try the dish that he had made that day.  He had talked often about his wish to open up another restaurant to make only these type of ‘fusion’ dishes.

Finally, he did.  The restaurant near to Piazza Repubblica (Via Adda, 3) is called Ristorante Leon d’Oro.  We were there on Friday night with S&N.

The place is cool; the décor with all the stone, black and soft lighting, reminding one more of a trendy discotheque than a restaurant.  I booked and as soon as I gave my name he asked ‘Is that Andy from the Imperiale?’  He was then going to give us one of the ‘smoking’ rooms but I declined as the other two of our party were non-smokers.

We got there and he recognised us (well, some of us) from the Imperiale.  We looked through the menu, unsure of what to try.  He had Asian Fusion as well as straight Chinese, Japanese and Thai selections on the menu.  He took our order but since we were unsure of what to have he suggested stuff.

And the stuff was quite delicious.  I cannot remember everything but there was soft-shelled crab in a kind of Japanese sushi style, little rolls of rice surrounding the pieces of crab; fried prawn on a stick of sugar cane; a kind of tempura of vegetables but smaller than normal tempura; a carpaccio of raw fish.

For the mains, N & I chose the Peking Duck because, well, we knew it would be the same as the Imperiale and it is impossible to resist although we promised to be more adventurous next time.  F had a parcel of orata, steamed with vegetables wrapped in a banana leaf (or something like that) which was truly divine.

I’d give a miss on the sweets though.  Asian sweets are never truly inspiring, in my opinion, with the exception of Thai rice pudding, done with coconut milk.  In this case I had crepes which were far too heavy.  S had strawberry fritters (like caramelised banana fritters but with large strawberries).  Nice idea but still too heavy.

And we had some digestivi – grappa.  We had a bottle of prosecco and then a few beers.  The total was €30 per head which, I felt, was not unreasonable.

A great alternative to the Imperiale and superb décor and surroundings.  There are three distinct smoking rooms, each self contained and really nice.  Special ventilation in each means that the smoking would not have been a problem but I wasn’t to know.

The only problem with it is that, whereas the Imperiale is a five minute walk from my house, the Leon d’Ora is about 20 minutes (foot and train) or about 10 minutes by taxi.  However, well worth a visit and the food is to die for!

Saturday night we also went to Le Vent Du Nord again.  This time F and I with A & Fr.  What a great place it is.  The beer divine and the moules just incredible.  Fr, who normally doesn’t eat moules, really enjoyed them although the guafre (a little like an American waffle) was her favourite, I think.

Giacomo

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Giacomo is not some guy (or, rather, he may be/have been) but a restaurant in Milan.  Not far from me, between Porta Venezia and Porta Romano at Via Sottocorno 5-6.

It had all the ‘look’. There was a serenity about it, partly because of the green, sort of chalkish but a bit darker, wooden half-panels on the walls, the fans on the ceiling, the ambiance, the waiters with their long aprons, reminding one of bygone days.

The food was superb. One of the best fish restaurants in Milan, F said. I had soup – mussels and clams – to start with and then the cod with a loose crunchy crust and saffron sauce (hollandaise). We had some deep fried courgette flowers and courgettes to accompany the main course.  F had the mixed raw fish starter (which was divine) and then the seared tuna with a really strong, sweet caper sauce.

I don’t know what the wine was. F chose it. It was his birthday, after all.

And, just the two of us.

The only thing that let it down a bit was the service – although excellent and attentive, the staff kept on leaning over me to get stuff off the table.  Of course, being in Italy, there’s no soft light in the restaurant – people prefer to see what they’re eating – but it wasn’t as harsh as you normally have.

The clientele were mixed but I did hear a lot of foreign voices.  This is, after all, not cheap.  I don’t know how much it was for the two of us (the rule here is that, if it’s your birthday, then you pay) but the starters were about 18 Euro and the main courses about 25+, so, with wine and dessert (F had a chocolate bombe which was to die for) it would have been upward of 75 Euro per head.  However, a must if you’re here and don’t want to worry about the price.

Le Vent Du Nord; New Year’s Food Feast

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Last night, F, along with Al (of the R&Al fame) and another friend went to see Loretta Goggi. As she does a bit of singing but also a bit of comedy, etc. F said that, maybe I shouldn’t go as it would be too difficult for me. In this case, I agreed with him. I mean, if it were just music or if it were a film (with a plot) then that’s one thing – a stand-up/cabaret act is another thing entirely and I didn’t want to spoil his enjoyment by being there and him feeling he had to explain everything.

And so, as this had been arranged some time ago, R suggested we go out for dinner whilst they were at the show.

The other friend’s girlfriend, Ale was with us too. She is really nice and I like her a lot. We had quite a lot in common – mainly food-wise.

Anyway, on to the restaurant, which is why I’m posting this post. It’s called Le Vent Du Nord and is, apparently, Belgian. One good thing about Belgian places is the beer – and that was certainly true of this place. The one I chose was superb. Belgian beer has a particular taste, very malty, and I like it a lot.

But this place is one of the places to go for mussels (moules). I chose Moules Marinieres and it was, quite honestly, fabulous! Cooked to perfection and so tasty. Ale chose some other version. After we had finished, we both wanted a little more and so were going to get one between us – unfortunately, it was their last night before closing for a week and so they had no more left. Whilst we understood, we were, to say the least, a little disappointed.

Apart from the food and drink the evening was really nice.

And, I think, Ale and I could be firm friends.

If you like mussels (they do other things too, including meat) and Belgian beer then this is, certainly, a place to go in Milan, even if it is a little bit of a trek from the centre itself. In the end a couple of beers each, the moules, a sweet and, for two of us, a digestivo only cost 25€ per head – great value, I think you would agree.

The service was excellent. All-round, a great restaurant.

R dropped me home and I did the dogs. F rang after he had come out of the show and picked me up in a taxi and we spent the night at his place as he is working as I write.

Tonight we are just us, here, at my flat, being a little Italian with a little left-over shepherd’s pie (obviously NOT Italian) and zampone with lentils which I adore. Always eaten at New Year as the lentils mean wealth. Zampone is pigs trotter filled with some sort of meat stuffing – a little like a large sausage but more glutinous. It would never sell in the UK but you should try it if you get the chance as it really is scrumptious!

And, on that note, I wish all my readers a very, very Happy New Year.

Everything is, always, mostly, nearly completely perfect.

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“That’s why I love you”, he says.

This may be in a jokey way – or maybe not.  Or, maybe both?  It doesn’t matter as it’s true, in any case.

As usual, all my doubts, uncertainties, confusion, etc. melted the moment that I saw him.  How does he do this to me?  I have to be honest and say that, were it not for the internet we may never have even noticed each other, even if we had met before, although, if we had spoken, maybe it would have been different.  But now, I only have to see him, even from a distance!

I had sent texts during the day.  He hadn’t replied.  I was aware that he may not, what with the BIG DAY being today and, I guessed, everyone running around as if the Queen were about to visit.  His responsibility being the ‘look’, I thought he may be even busier than most.  That was OK.  I knew what this was like (sort of) and, so, was not pressing.

I got home and waited.  Eventually, he called.  He was going to go home.  He was late.  I suggested that he may want to come to my place first, to check out and decide what I was going to wear for the ‘do’ tonight.  He thought that was a good idea.

He got to Porta Venezia and suggested going for a pizza and would I like to come there.  I said yes but I had to change and sort out the dogs.  Then he rang saying he was already at Porta Venezia and should we meet at Pizza OK.  I suggested Timeout 2 as it was closer to my place and he could then come back to mine for the five minutes it would take to sort through what I would wear.

I walked the few minutes to Timeout 2, realising, as I walked, that it was, probably, closed.  It was Tuesday and I was convinced that it was closed for that day.  It was.  I try to phone him.  He is on the phone (as usual).  I walk up towards Pizza OK as I know that’s where he’s coming from.  Trying to call him all the time.  Still engaged.  I start walking back to Timeout 2.  He is already there and calls out to me.

We kiss on the cheeks, well, almost on the lips.  We end up in the pizzeria Liù.  V & I used to go there when we first lived in Milan in Via Eustachi.  We talk.  He tells me about his day.  How the stuff he had to do in the shop should have taken a couple of hours but how customers would ask him about the price of this or that or how they find the right size or where is so-and-so and, so, it meant he was there for over 8 hours.  On his feet all day, a new phrase he learnt last night.

And how, because he was in the shop and so busy, he didn’t have his phone on and so only read my messages just before he phoned me.

He has electricity in his flat now.  He will be able to finish the decoration.  He is happier.  I tell him I’m meeting A on Thursday night.  He might come.  I said I had told A that F might not be there as I didn’t know what he was doing but that I would be there anyway.  I have to see A as he is leaving for his parents early next week.  I say that I have agreed to meet G on Saturday night for a beer and a pizza.  Again, I have said I don’t know if F will be there.  He thanks me for this.  I explain that I know he’s feeling stressed right now and I understand and so, although I have to see these people and would prefer that he were there, I understand if he is not.

And he thanks me again for being so understanding and that’s when he says “That’s why I love you”.

The pizza was good, the base being particularly nice.  I don’t remember if it was always this good.   We also have Milanese cake (that I forget the name of the cake but it is really nice – brought out at this time of year).  He says he will be spending a lot of time at the flat.  I explain that I have arranged to meet L and take the dogs (hers and mine) to the park near the airport on Saturday morning at 10 because I thought that he would want to go and do painting and that it would encourage us to get up and not waste the day.  He is happy with that and makes plans to come and stay at mine at Friday because he is closer to his flat and it means we can get up just that little bit later.

He tells me that he had planned that he would go home, have a shower, get his stuff ready for tomorrow and come and stay at mine.  I said that I thought it would be easier and better if he stayed at his, apologising that I wouldn’t be there as I needed to be in work on time.  He said it was a good idea.  And it was, even if it means spending the night apart.  He is, in fact, relieved that I came up with this suggestion as it will be much better for both of us.  It’s practical, anyway.

I tell him that, obviously, I would have preferred to be with him and that I missed him last night.  I tell him that much, anyway.

We go home.  I try on the jacket.  He is pleased with it and says it looks really nice and the sartoria (tailors) have done a good job.  I take all the jeans out of the wardrobe.  He goes through them, rejecting most.  He finds one that he likes and then another.  He looks at the jumpers I have (that I could wear).  He thinks a white shirt, or blue, is better.  For shoes he obviously is not impressed by my type of normal shoe.  It’s not his style, for certain.  But he decides, in the end, on the new ‘trainer-type’ shoe that I bought that time in Fox Town with A.

We hug and kiss.  He had said earlier that, being on his feet all day, his feet were doing that throbbing that they do.  I said I would drive him back home.  He protested that it was not necessary and I would have difficulty parking when I got back.  I said it would be OK.  I took him anyway and I know he was grateful.  I was back home within 15 minutes and found somewhere to park.  I was lucky, I know.

And, because I had seen him and been with him, sleeping, even if alone, was not so bad.  And I know that he misses me too and he had said, during the meal, that he had explained to a colleague and friend that he would be going to my place and staying there because it was only fair and that I had the dogs and he didn’t want me to be always going to his place because of them, etc.  I knew this anyway.

But, I still don’t quite understand why, when I see him, when we’re together,I don’t have any doubts or fears or concerns.  Everything is, always, mostly, nearly completely perfect.

The Fashion World – just part of his job

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He says it again. The three words; the phrase that I wait for. It makes me feel all warm inside. I don’t say anything. I already say them more than him anyway. And I do mean them, I really do.

It turns out he wasn’t at work at all yesterday. I didn’t realise that he was having all the windows replaced in the new flat. Well, he wasn’t, but his landlady was. And so, he had to stay in the flat, of course.

I text him before I leave work asking what time he would finish work, so that I knew or would have some idea as to what we may be doing and when I would go and see him.

That’s when I found out he wasn’t at work at all. He calls me as I’m driving home. A few minutes before, I had thought it would be nice to go to Baia Chia, the restaurant that is his favourite. I asked him if he would like to go but that I would be paying. He thought I said something about buying something from Ikea ….. buy eekaya (the way that they pronounce Ikea here). I explained. He said ‘Oh, Maria’s!’.

He booked and we were going to eat at 9. I was really happy about it as, not only is it a lovely restaurant and the staff so nice and the food so good – but he was going to let me pay! And, as I told him as we clinked glasses, it was to thank him for a wonderful 2 months.

And, although it wasn’t then, even if I don’t remember exactly why, he said the three words again and it made me very happy, as I am, often, with him.

He said that he was less worried about the flat now. He knew it would be small and that it didn’t worry him any more and that he would move in and everything would not be perfect but he would live with it even if it was a mess and that he would sort it out even if it took three months.

But I didn’t believe him even if I hoped it would be true.

I told him so by saying ‘I’m not sure that you can live without everything being tidy’.

He said that he could. Later he said that he doubted if he could. And, certainly, that I DO believe.

On the way home (his place) he said that he was more relaxed now. It’s not really true but I know he is trying.

He also said that we should quit smoking. Or, at least, cut down. I told him that he couldn’t change me so quickly and I was already doing other things. Which he knew and understood. And he said that, at least he would cut down. And I know that I will try, when I’m with him, to smoke less. I guess.

And I told him I was a bit worried about Rufus. It seems that the deterioration is going in spurts. He doesn’t wee in the house all the time but more often now. And that seemed to happen suddenly. Then, on Thursday night, I noticed, when we were out, that he seemed to be a bit drunk; Friday morning much worse; Friday night still just as bad. It’s not like he collapses (the back legs are very weak now) but seems to stagger a lot, just as if he is drunk.

I know it’s coming, the end, so I give him extra hugs and stuff. And, of course, I have the added thing of telling V. And, yes, it is a little upsetting, especially as he has been such a good dog but V will be really upset, which doesn’t help. Even if he really hasn’t had anything much to do with him for the last 12 months (since the break up, over a year ago now). However, it is all part of having a dog and I do have Dino now, as well.

F says ‘poverino’, as he does with Rufus.

And now, as I write this, I am back at home, having picked up my suit (after alterations) that F has decided to give me as my Christmas present. We are going to the cocktail party in the shop on Wednesday, where he is going to introduce me to the big boss and he told me that I must be very elegant – he will be showing me off, after all – even if he didn’t say that bit :-D.

He wants me to wear the suit or, at least the jacket with jeans. I said that, next time he is at my place, he needs to look through my stuff to decide what I should wear as I will wear whatever he wants. I said that I had no idea what to say to the big boss, other than ‘hello’ and ‘nice to meet you’. But there will be plenty of people there that I know so it will all be fine. And I get to see him in his element and I know, already, that he is good at what he does. So I am half looking forward to it and half apprehensive about it. I mean, I have to make a good impression, for his sake. And it will be another ‘first’ for me, as I’ve never met a ‘designer’ before, so that will be good. And, the fact that he wants me there and wants to introduce me to the big boss, says a lot, I think.

And so, in spite of everything, it seems I will be more involved with the fashion world after all, which I find quite funny now. Years ago, with V, it would have been important. Now, with F, it’s part of his job and, so, feels so different! And I am really outside it and, so, I think it all feels different for him. I will do a post after Wednesday to let you know how I got on in the Fashion World.

Making an effort too, even if it’s really no effort.

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OK, so, if there’s one thing that we are completely different about, it’s food.  So far, it’s not been that big of a problem.  Although he will eat everything, more or less, if he’s confronted with not much of a choice.  He even had red wine on Saturday night.  I think it was his way to say ‘thank you’ for picking him up from the airport – not that it was necessary of course.  In fact, he’s always considering me with regards to the restaurants chosen.  He’s always looking for a restaurant that serves meat, even if I keep pointing out that it’s not that important.  It’s his way, I think.  Of course, this only becomes clear to me in the morning (like now) and not at the time.

Yeah, my head works better in the morning.

Also, he got milk for me at his home, so that when we had coffee, I could have some milk.  And, the fact that he comes to my house even if it means waking up so much earlier……..and he’s not good in the mornings………he’s like porcelain, you may remember?  I have a spare key so that he could leave later but he wouldn’t take it.  Perhaps tonight I can persuade him to take it?

And I do things too that I wouldn’t normally do.

Last night we slept in our own, respective flats.  For reasons of this morning (I have clients for two days and, so, probably won’t be posting much).  And I left his place later than I had intended last night.  He wanted me to stay.  I wanted to stay.  He wanted to be at my place.  I wanted him at my place.  But this is the problem when you don’t live together.  There’s time (and, yet, no time).  I was strong, even if I really did want to stay so much.  There was no way I wanted to be late to work today and I had to wear a suit and stuff.

Sunday was brunch with FfI and friends at Indiana Post, in the Navigli.  It was nice and got us out of the house.  He is good in these situations but has explained to me that it is a ‘show’ where he is an actor.  And I get it.  He seems even better than V at this stuff.

And I asked him more about his job on Saturday night.  I had been getting the impression that he was more than he let on.  And I was right.  And he takes it seriously and that is good.  And, on many things we think alike, including work, even his is a field I don’t really understand.  But, even if it is a different field, it is all the same.  There are customers and there are the producers and the same shit happens.

And, he told me again he was worried with so much stuff to do, so many things going on in his head.  And I said, again, I would help with anything I can, even if it is a little the same for me (well, certainly for work).

And tonight we go out with some friends who are from the place he lived as a kid.  Then he comes to mine.  Again, not a huge thing but enough to say that he is making an effort too even if, if he’s like me, it’s really no effort..

Tuscan and Chinese eating

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What I didn’t mention was the restaurants over the first couple of nights this week.  And I should.  And so:

Monday night we tried to go the Mexican but it was closed.  So I told them there was the new Milanese restaurant in the parallel street that did great food (even if the service could have been better).  Unfortunately, Monday is obviously not a good day for restaurants as that was closed too.

However, next door was a smallish Tuscan restaurant.  FfI’s sort-of-boyfriend, O suggested we go there and I was quite up for it.

Trattoria della Zia (Aunt’s Trattoria) was fairly nondescript from the outside.  It looked like it had been there for a while.  We went in anyway.  Really we had a main course only (although we did share a portion of Crostini as an antipasto).  It was Fiorentina which, if it is good meat, is truly fabulous although, to be honest, the best one I had was in Florence about 12 years ago.

However, this one was, probably, the best one that I have had in Milan.  The meat was perfectly cooked and with very little sinew which, considering it is blue, is kind of important.  We had some potatoes (a kind of roast potato) and some grilled vegetables and some white beans.

Truly delicious.  Afterwards we had some Mirto and O suggested I try Chino Martini, which I did and had a couple of glasses of those.  Hence my post about the note to myself.

The night before last was with V and we ended up at the Chinese – Imperiale, on via Plinio….again.

Nice, as usual.  It had been some time since V had been there now that he lives across town.  And I only stuck to one Sambuca afterwards – essential for a clear head in the morning!

But, for me, so far, the Trattoria della Zia is the best Tuscan restaurant I’ve been to in Milan, certainly for the Fiorentina steak anyway.

Last night, we made a start

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There was, of course, the trip to Ikea and other ‘out of town’ stores for looking at furniture.  Mainly for his new flat but also a wardrobe for mine.

He had the car from work.  He wanted to be there for about 9.30 a.m.  We stayed at his place.  I woke at about 7.30 first but dozed until it got to about 8 or 8.30.  I would have preferred to sleep in and, in fact, he said at one point, that, perhaps, we should go tomorrow.  I replied that if we didn’t do it today we might miss tomorrow and then, next Saturday, he would still be in Germany and really we should get up.  Even if I didn’t want that.

We got up, had coffee and then went to do the dogs.  Once the dogs had been walked, he drove to the first store.

Now, I should remind you that he is not so tall, slightly built and so very sweet, never really getting angry.  Well, that’s not quite true but almost.  He does have very strong opinions about certain things.  Take the Chinese family living next door to him.  He has threatened to kill them several times now.  Last night, with the children screaming and crying and much shouting going on, he finally snapped and went to get a shoe to bang on the wall.  It had the desired effect.

However, generally he is sweet and without real anger.  Until Saturday morning, however.

I have driven with Italians before.  Italians drive in a particular way.  Cutting each other up; Signalling left when they subsequently go right; Stopping suddenly to ‘park’ (we would say double park); Pulling out from a side road in front of you, etc.  It means you really have to pay attention to the traffic and expect the unexpected.  I do use my horn more often than I would in the UK but that’s because it is really one of the only ways you will survive here.

However, generally, I don’t swear and shout at other drivers.  Why would I? What’s the point?  It’s not like they can hear you and it’s not like it would change their driving habits either.  So I remain quite calm.

Other Italians, when I’m in the car, do tend to be more demonstrative when they are driving, both verbally and physically.  However, Saturday was a little different.  F became a different person from the one I knew.  It didn’t scare me or anything like that and he is quite a good driver but, in the half hour or so it took us to get to the first store, I probably heard all the Italian swearwords (and, in fact, a few more that I didn’t know before) and more than once.

As I pointed out to him, it’s a bloody good thing that our first ‘date’ wasn’t him driving me somewhere otherwise I would have thought him a very aggressive and uncontrollable animal.

As it was, because I know that he is only like this when behind the wheel, I found it somewhat amusing.  What amuses me further is that he is a little like this even when I’m driving!  However, not nearly as bad.

Saturday night we were meeting my friend G and going to the Brasserie Bruxelles on Viale Abruzzi.  A & F2 were coming too.

They have a rather excellent selection of beers.  Once again, F proved to be so good, chatting to A & F2 whilst G & I were able to catch up.  G saying that F didn’t really seem like an Italian – a little more Anglicised – and not only because he drank beer like any good Englishman.  G had phoned me to say he had arrived at the station and I told him what bus to get.  The F phoned to say that he was at the station (the car was being taken by another colleague) and could pick G up.  Of course, neither of them had each other’s number so there were a couple of phone calls with me in the middle.  However, F found G, even if they had never met before and then they got to the bar by car

Then we went for a pizza at Al Basilico, just a block down from the bar.

A & F2 were then going home but G wanted us (F & I) to meet R, the new girl in his life and so we went to this bar/restaurant/club place called Shanghai.

G is going back to the UK.  He hates the mentality of the Italians and the fact that it is so difficult to get things done here – every step halted by a wall that always seems impenetrable.  He hates the fact that the Italians are too busy (well, maybe this is particular to the Milanese) looking the part without the substance (which is also how F feels, certainly about Milan).  He’s been here for 10 years.  I explained that, being here for so long, there’s no way that he can go back and live in the UK.  For all that Italy and the Italians may drive you crazy, there are things that will happen in the UK where he will suddenly think how much he misses Italy (and the Italians).

But back to Shanghai.  I hate and loath these places with passion.  A huge hanger-like place.  Far too full of people; all busy being the best there.  We were going for a drink (but really to meet R).  She was very sweet and very, very pretty.  But neither F nor I were really happy about being in that place.  I mean, it’s a place for people that neither of us really like and exactly one of the reasons why G was going back to the UK ….. but he was there only for R, of course!

If I never get to go back to Shanghai again, it will be too soon.

We go home.  His home.  He wants to spend the night at his place because he has to get ready for his trip and because he wants to have Sunday breakfast at the café.  So, maybe, it’s his ‘thing’ too, after all?

We get up late(ish) and go to have breakfast which, as you know, I love doing.

I go and do the dogs, some washing, etc.  He gets ready for the trip.

I get back later and he does dinner.  I have brought wine and moved the car to nearby his place.

We don’t have dinner immediately.  When I arrive, he is getting ready for a bath, having spent some time doing his ‘beauty’ treatment stuff.  He is in his white underpants.  He is incredibly sexy.  I wonder, at one point, why I think he’s incredibly sexy and why does he turn me on so.  I don’t know.  There are things about him, his body, that, ordinarily, I would not find a turn-on and yet, here he is and every single part of him is so sexy.  Even his feet, which I think are beautiful!  I find myself looking at him and wanting him – all the time.  I sit and chat to him as he has a bath, concentrating on the chat to hide the fact that I just want to look at him.

After dinner he does his Farmville thing.  He sits on the chair with his legs crossed under him, without socks.  I sit next to him and stroke his feet.  I have never had any sort of foot fetish but, with him, I think I could!

I go home later to walk the dogs and come back just after 9.  We go to bed early as we are getting up at 5.30 – I’m taking them to the airport.

Neither of us can sleep.  Not because we aren’t tired.  We talk a little.  I tell him that I get paranoid when I’m not with him (about the lack of things in common) and I worry about that because this will be the longest time we’ve been apart.  I tell him that I know it is stupid and he agrees and says there is so much we can learn from each other.  And I know that is true, still, I think he’s starting to understand me and he is more affectionate than normal.  He tells me of the things going on in his head – the reasons he can’t sleep – work, the new flat, the lack of time to do everything.  I tell him not to worry and that everything will be OK and I will help him if he asks and that, at the very worst, he can stay at mine if everything is not ready.  He knows that and says so and says thanks and means it.  And we talk a little more about his actual work and why this trip is important both for him and the company.  And I have a better understanding of why he is where he is within the company.  He had said over the weekend that he will be introducing me to the big boss as his new boyfriend – and I think that he is proud to do so.  And that makes me happy.

He is having the test soon and is worried about that.  I ask him if he wants me to have the test too.  He doesn’t really say but I know that he does.  I tell him that I will do it.  I know it will make him happy.  He asks when I last had the test and I tell him that it was about 22 years ago.  He is shocked but I explain that there was no need.  I was only with V.  He asks if I wasn’t worried that V was with someone else and I said that no, I wasn’t.  And that was true.  at least it was true for the most of it.  Still, I know it will make him happy and he says it would make a big difference (and you can work that out for yourselves).

The Chinese people next door don’t help.

This morning, he says we’ll just have 5 minutes of cuddling before getting up.  Then another five minutes.  Then we get up.

He says he is so appreciative of me taking him to the airport.  I explain that it means extra time with him.  He doesn’t seem to get it – every second with him is like some sort of bonus.  He has said that I should not come and pick him up but agrees to it as I leave them at the airport.

And so, I shall pick him up on Saturday and be glad to do so.

And, in the space of the weekend, he has become even more demonstrably affectionate, as if he is understanding that I am true.  And, even if there is so much more to discuss, at least, last night, we have made a start.

I mentioned the blog

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It seems that S (F’s ex) wants to meet me.  I joked and said that he wanted to check me out, making sure I was ‘suitable’.  F said that he had only introduced one other guy to S and that was the someone that lasted 6 months.  So I guess F is trying to tell me something.

I mentioned that I had written, before I met him, that, for some reason, the meeting with F seemed more important than the rest [of the meetings] but that I had no idea why [it seemed more nor why I wrote that].  I mentioned the ‘blog’.  That is – this blog.

There was a look on his face that I couldn’t quite discern.  I was ready for the questioning, ready for some surprise or some interest or something.  There was nothing.  It is entirely possible, since this is Italy, that he has no real idea of what I was talking about.

I am sure it will come up again later.

Last night was an English night.  I explained to him, prior to going out that I would be speaking English all night; that I must speak English all night.  I said I would explain later.  I did.

We went to the Imperiale in Via Plinio.  N suggested it and as A wanted to go out too I suggested that he come, which he did.  Great night.  F was, as usual, in great form.  Whilst F & A were talking sometimes, N & I discussed various things.  I told her that I adore him.  Which I do.  Sometimes, when we’re out, I look at him and I am so pleased to be with him that I just want to hug him there and then.  Instead, as usual, I rest my arm on the back of his chair and stroke his back with my thumb; the touching of him being enough to satisfy my for that time, in that public place.  And although our backs were to the rest of the restaurant, I just didn’t care.  Even at one point where I realised this.

Actually, this is almost exactly how I felt when V & I were together and out.

Next week, he will be in Germany all week.  He leaves early on Monday morning.  I have offered to drive them to the airport, of course.  He comes back on Saturday either late afternoon or evening.

I know I will miss him already but, at least, I can try to catch up on my sleep!