Tag Archives: F Says…..

Going slightly mad?

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It’s February.

It’s the first Monday in February.

It’s raining.

It’s probably going to rain for most of this week.

OK, so these are contributory factors and those of you who’ve read my blog for some time will know I’ve written similar posts in the past – but I feel terrible.

No, I’m not ill (as far as I know). I just feel crap. And down. And, quite a lot frightened.

All, for no reason that I can discern. The reasons above are not really good enough to bring on this feeling of panic and fear. So, there is no reason. I mean to say, I had a nice weekend – we had a nice weekend. We did the usual things (which wasn’t much, really). I watched La Grande Bellezza (The Great Beauty) which was beautifully shot but, I felt, lacking in real story. I’m not sure why it’s won the awards for best film – especially when you compare it to something like The Hunt. I also watched Blue Jasmine which, in spite of the fact that I am NOT a fan of Woody Allen films (except The Purple Rose of Cairo), I really enjoyed.

I even brushed the dogs! And we went out last night with friends, which was nice.

Obviously, I’ve only had about 6 hours sleep, so that doesn’t help but, still, why this feeling?

I feel like there’s about to be a huge disaster in my life. But I don’t really think that, I only feel it – so it has no basis on fact.

But my stomach is churning away. I feel a bit shaky.

I’m concentrating on doing things but everything is just a bit of an effort.

OK, so I forgot one thing – something F said last night in front of our friends that made me feel a little uncomfortable – in that it was another thing that may make living together difficult. But, again, this is not enough reason. Although if I extrapolate what he says then that throws into doubt the long-term future a bit. But only a bit. And, anyway, as I’ve mentioned before now, I have to arrive at that future which is not guaranteed.

I wish this nonsensical feeling would go away.

But, I wonder, do other people get this? Is it just me or, sometimes, do you wake up with a feeling of dread and fear for no good reason?

It makes me wonder if I’m slightly mad.

And, just in case, I leave you with this:


Queen – I’m going slightly mad

Barrell

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Even if the move together has lost a bit of momentum (given the fact that F will have to make a largish payout for work on the other house soon), it’s still likely to be this year.

And, now, I’m looking at things that happen and trying to determine what that will mean in the future.

Let me be clearer. F is currently (almost) living at my place as a friend of his is currently staying at his. This means that he spends a lot more time at mine – and it’s almost as if we are living together.

This has plus sides, of course. But, there are a couple of things that cause concern.

The first is, obviously, his obsession with cleaning. But, I’ve spoken about that many times so I’ll ignore that for now.

The second is food. When I was with V and we were both working (here), we both got a really good deal for lunch. Up until that point, we ate in the evenings. We would eat next to nothing all day but have a proper meal every evening. When we started work in Italy (full time), we were getting the great lunch deal and then going home and cooking our normal evening meal. Needless to say, we started to put on weight.

Obviously, we had to cut out one of the meals. Since, in my case, I get lunch for about 7 cents per day, it seemed crazy to cut that one and, so, we stopped eating in the evening.

The problem with F is that he doesn’t really eat much at lunch and he has no canteen at work so although he gets a voucher, he doesn’t get lunch for 7 cents!

Plus there’s the fact that he has had a bad back all week, so has been off work and not really eating at lunchtime.

So he’s been cooking. An example would be that he bought some cece (chick peas) the other day and made some sort of thick soup-type thing yesterday.

So, last night, we had this cece soup. I tried to get him to give me just a taste but he can’t seem to cope with this concept, so although the bowl wasn’t overflowing, it was certainly much more than I either needed or wanted. But I can hardly not eat it, can I?

I’m thinking that, amongst the other things about living together will be me putting on weight. Or rather, me putting on MORE weight. Becoming “barrel like”, I think the term is. And this is NOT good.

So, now I have to find a way around this. Of course, I could stop having lunch at work – but here I get meat every day and with F I wouldn’t. So that’s no good. Perhaps, the only real solution is to just have the main course here, at work. But then if there’s a pasta dish I like as well as a main course I like, it will be very tempting!

I have time to think this through but it’s a bit of a bugger. And “like a barrel” is really not for me.

When “hot” doesn’t mean “hot”

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I’m not talking about the weather. No. That is as cold as the tip of an Eskimo’s nose. Winter is arriving, for sure.

No, I’m talking (again) about differences between Italians and the English.

If you live here, can you remember the last time you had a really “hot” meal cooked by an Italian? I don’t mean “spicy” hot but hot hot. More like boiling hot. So hot that you had to cool it down by blowing on each forkful.

No, I didn’t think so. Meals, here, are regularly served on cold plates – the food itself hardly piping hot. The only exception to this is, sometimes, meat, served on a sizzling hot plate or, at one restaurant where they used to serve thinly sliced Branzino (Sea Bass) on such a hot plate that they had to warn you about it.

At the weekend, in partial preparation for a move, I was cooking stuff from the freezer. I found a Mincemeat and Apple Plait that I had made to use up the last of the mincemeat I had and some of the apples that we always buy at Christmas (and then leave to rot in the fruit bowl). I thought F might like it. And I made custard to go with it. Not a lot because (I thought) F doesn’t like custard.

I cooked the Plait and timed it just right so that it was ready to come out as we finished the main course.

In fact, F did want custard – and as much as I could give him – which was a bit of a bastard as it meant that I had much less and, if I had known, I would have made a full pint rather than half a pint :-(

But, he wouldn’t eat it.

He put it outside, on the windowsill, to cool down. I was quite shocked. I asked him why. He told me that he can’t eat hot deserts and had I not noticed that Italians don’t do hot deserts which, now that he had mentioned it, was true!

“But why can’t you eat it when it’s hot?”, I asked. Apparently, it’s bad to put hot things in your stomach. Who knew that, all my life I have been doing something so bad for me? And why wasn’t I ill more often?

And then, today, as I was eating my lunch in the canteen, I bemoaned (to myself, obviously) that everything is served fairly tepid on cold plates and, so, you don’t actually eat “hot” food. I was eating cauliflower which was almost cold. Partly because it was only tepid when served and then because the plates are actually cold. And that’s true (with the exceptions I’ve mentioned above) in restaurants too!

Perhaps it’s a climate thing? It’s certainly a cultural thing. And, again, we come back to the weird beliefs Italians seem to have about your health and what is good or bad for you.

In the UK, serving anything it was expected to be on hot, or at least warm, plates. And if it were piping hot, then that was better. But not here. Or, having just spoken to my colleagues, not for many people and, certainly, not for F.

Having spoken to my colleagues, I find that there are a few (but only about 3 or 4) sweets that are served hot. Unlike in the UK where, apart from during the summer, nearly all sweets are served hot.

And on warm plates so that they keep warm.

Sometimes, I miss certain things. This is one of them.

Italians are a strange bunch!

And, moving on …….

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Well, we talked.

Of course, it hasn’t really changed anything but maybe there’s some more understanding.

We went to look at the flat he really likes and I’m sure that it’s the one. I had a really good feeling about it when I walked in and could see “our stuff” in each of the rooms. Now I wait for him to make the offer and discuss the costs with the agent.

In the meantime, we are going to see another one tomorrow. It’s another that he really likes but, in this case, the position is not so good. We’ll see.

And, although everything is “sorted” – well, as much as it will ever be, I still have this slightly queasy feeling in my stomach regarding actually moving in together. And this is very strange for me and I don’t really like it (the feeling, that is).

The feeling is neither logical, sensible nor what I want.

Maybe this is as a result of doing this half-living together for so long. You know what I mean? Like – “why change something that works?”

Anyway, the next couple of weeks will see movement, I’m sure.

The race is stopped ………………. maybe

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We don’t argue.

Well, in part because we rarely talk. And by that I mean deep, meaningful discussions.

This is, in part, because we don’t have the same language as our mother tongue and partly, if I am perfectly honest, because I don’t want to.

The problem is that a) I would rather not know – I would rather live in my bubble of perfection and b) I am a “wordy” person which, if you don’t have the same mother tongue and aren’t inclined to be a “wordy” person but more of a “visual” person, as F is, creates an imbalance and an advantage to the “wordy” person with the disadvantage to the “visual” person, of which I am very aware and against which I guard.

There – that was “wordy” wasn’t it?

What I mean is that, even if we spoke the same language, we wouldn’t actually speak the same language – so discourse is difficult.

And so it has proved.

So, he gets the plan of the flat that he really, really likes; that I was due to see on Saturday but didn’t because the stupid estate agent has to get the keys from the portinaio (porter/doorman) and the portinaio doesn’t work on Saturdays. So, no key, no viewing.

Anyway, back to the story – he gets the plan in order to see where furniture could go. He starts placing things. He suggests a room could be the studio or it could be a place to put washing that is drying. I suggest that we could use it as both as I don’t have lessons on Monday and Tuesday and everything is dry by then.

He says that we will have to do washing every couple of days and not just on Sunday as I do now.

I don’t agree and say that it should be OK.

He suggests that, to do all the washing on a Sunday would mean needing about 10 drying racks (which is an exaggeration – but I get the point) and so I say OK.

He hates it when I say “OK” if he thinks I still don’t agree. Now, sometimes this is true – I don’t agree but decide that a) time will tell and/or b) my experience is such that I know him to be wrong and I am happy to wait until he sees that he is wrong. Or, of course, c) – which is where I think he is wrong and my experience says that he is wrong but, in fact, he proves, at a later time, he is correct – which is fine by me.

So then he goes off on one. I am, apparently, “typically English”. I never say what I really think. He has a point but in this case, he is incorrect. Apparently, I always say “OK” when I don’t mean “OK” at all. On this he is definitely wrong. I have said OK because he had a point about the drying racks. V and I used to do all the washing on a Sunday or Saturday and we didn’t have a problem – but I can’t remember how it wasn’t a problem. So, without the logic of being able to argue the point, I would rather have it proved – one way or the other.

I try to explain that I have not said “OK” just to shut him up but, rather, that I have said “OK” because he has a point about the drying racks.

However, he has stopped listening to me. Now he has decided what I have been thinking and this is not up for discussion.

He says that if we are to live together, there must be compromises on both sides. He is already having to “accept all your furniture” and “none of mine” and if we can’t agree on these things and we can’t talk about them without me “making my mind up beforehand” perhaps it would be better not to move in together.

I confess I was a bit taken aback by the comment about the furniture. I thought he had understood but, obviously, not. I again try to explain about my reasoning for saying “OK”, prefacing this with “perhaps it would be better not to live together if you think that arguing about something as trivial as washing can be a deal breaker.” I don’t use those words exactly, of course. Too many words/phrases he may not know.

We progress to silence. I put out the washing that has just finished. By the time I return the plan is back in the plastic folder. The “discussion” has ended.

And, for me, maybe it would be better not to live together? After all, I love my flat. Maybe, if we lived together and then split up, I wouldn’t be able to find a flat as wonderful as I have? Nor can I stand this “typical English” tag that he puts on me. Nor his way of assuming he knows what I am thinking, especially when it is NOT what I am thinking.

He went in to the bedroom to watch TV. I joined him after 10 minutes but only stayed for about 30 minutes. This was because there was no conversation and also because the film/programme was too difficult for me to follow.

After a while, and after checking the weather forecast again, I went into the bedroom to say that, as the forecast now said it might rain in the morning, I would take the dogs out in the morning. No answer. So, fuck it!

He was supposed to be going to see a flat this morning. I don’t know if he went or not. Normally he would text me. So far, he hasn’t.

In any event, at the moment, I think we should talk. I, certainly, have something to say.

1. Stop fucking generalising about me as “typical English” because a) I don’t generalise about him being “typically Italian” and b) because he really doesn’t know what I’m thinking.
2. I will move to a different area, if he wants. I will move to a newish flat, if he wants. And even if it is only for 4 years, there is a 50/50 chance I won’t be happy with it – but what the hell, it’s only to sleep in! But that’s what I did with V, when we came here, and I am trying to avoid living somewhere that doesn’t feel like “home” to me.
3. We don’t have to have “all” my furniture. I am happy to put most of it in storage (the rest can be sold/be thrown away). But he has to remember that these are all I have left from my 55 years of living on this planet. Yes, I know that “things” are not important in life and I really try very hard not to get too attached to “things” BUT, these are the only “things” I have – no house, no family, etc. and two of the items are a reminder of my Grandfather (aka my hero) and were bought using the money he left me when he died. So, we don’t have to have those things – but if we don’t then they have to go in storage because I will never sell them.

So am I just a bit angry? Yes, I am. Do I want to continue? Well, yes but now I am worried. It’s OK when when we’re not living together but I’m not sure it would be OK if we have nowhere to go “home” to.

Will we talk? Well, right now, I want to. It could change later, of course.

Maybe it would be better to leave things as they are after all.

The race is on.

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There suddenly, since Christmas, seems to be a bit of a rush on.

As we don’t really talk, I have no idea why this is so. However, sites are checked daily and visits have been made.

OK, you may ask, why don’t you ask? Well, that’s simply not how it works. If he wants to, he’ll tell me. Maybe there is no rush and it’s just me thinking that there is but, right now he seems more determined.

I’m not in a rush which surprises even me. I would rather wait until I am certain the right one has been found. And I want certain things. A comment was made last night (to a friend and then relayed to me) that, as it’s only for 4 years, the right place is not so important. And yet, for me, it really IS important. He agrees that, if the right place is found, we shall know immediately.

And, so, the search goes on. I am now looking daily. And I absolutely KNOW that we shall find somewhere that suits both of us – that has the required size, the required age and the required situation. I just KNOW.

In the meantime, I am supportive without making a firm commitment.

We saw one place, just before Christmas and, although the flat itself was almost perfect (it lacked the required number of balconies for the dogs), the position was not “all that”. Not a terrible position, just not quite right. But it has aircon.

“It would only be switched off at night,” he says. He says that because he is Italian. When he is away, it would, most certainly, be left on all night. Imagine, in the middle of summer, sleeping without sweating, waking up without feeling like you’ve just been sleeping in an oven and showering without needing another shower within 5 minutes!

Suddenly, the place seems even more attractive. :-)

However, I am convinced we shall find the perfect flat in the perfect street/area – just as I did before.

Of course, the “rush” we seem to be in is not necessarily conducive to my belief that the perfect place is out there and we just have to find it. But I keep remembering V and his love for our flat – and how much I hated it. I don’t want to be in that position ever again. So, I guess, I’m being just a tad stubborn.

Maybe, as my friend A described to me last night, just a little bit Roman – smiling and saying yes, of course, on the one hand whilst saying no when it really matters on the other. Hmmm.

So, the race is on. I have to find the perfect place before he gets fed up and insists we go for something I’m not 100% sure about.

I have to be focused.

This guy is NOT for turning

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I have a bit of a problem with vegetarians and vegans, I have to admit (sorry, Lola). The problem isn’t against them, exactly, just against what they eat. Well, not everything they eat but some things.

It’s not that I hate vegetables. Far from it. It’s just that they are there to go with meat. But there are some things that I really don’t like.

I mean, for example, tofu. What is that except some tasteless, blancmange-type product.

But, my dislike of some of “their” food unfortunately clashes with things that F likes.

Take pesto. Pasta with pesto is just a really bad waste of nice pasta. It should be nice (and occasionally is nice) but rarely is.

And then, take lentils. Lentils to me taste, more often than not, of earth. Now, those of you who have been reading this blog for a while may remember the story of eating earth (or dirt, as I called it) and how I enjoyed it as a kid. But, now I’m older and, maybe, a little bit wiser and eating dirt from the garden is not something I tend to do – except I do feel like I’m doing it when eating lentils.

However, F loves them and will happily eat a plate of lentils for dinner.

So, as he was working, he suggested I did lentils.

It was my first time as he has always cooked them at New Year and I asked him how. He said to fry some onion, celery and carrot, add the lentils and water.

So I did. Except that I probably did it wrong. Perhaps too much onion, celery and carrot? In any event, even though I say so myself (although F also said they were good), they were the best I’ve ever tasted.

However, I’m NOT becoming vegetarian or vegan. The following day I had some with some nice lamb chops with mint jelly. Mmmmmm

Slowly does it.

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Well, that’s that, then.

Just over 2 weeks of holiday and this is the first day back to “normal”. And it’s a struggle.

Still, that was the best Christmas/New Year period ever. We had many good times and great fun with lots of nice friends.

For F’s birthday evening, he took me and An and her husband to Al Garghet, a wonderful restaurant, just outside Milan. The place was lit up by Christmas lights everywhere outside and was very pretty, the food was excellent and the service was perfect. OK so it isn’t cheap but it’s OK. The only way to get there is by car (meaning someone can’t drink) or by taxi. But totally worth it.

Earlier, I had given F his present which is shown below:

Cufflinks of dogs' paws

They are, of course, imprints of the dogs’ paws, reduced in size to become cufflinks, in silver. Dino’s is on the left and Piero’s on the right.

Now, what the hell am I going to do for next year?

But now we are back at work. And I’m gearing myself up to really start work tomorrow, since today, I just can’t do it! So, slowly does it.

Giving a whistle

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As I mentioned, nearly everything is good, wonderful or fantastic!

The last half of the year has been rather good, in most ways.

I saw Best Mate for her 40th birthday; we went to a lovely wedding in London and slipped in a few hours of sightseeing too (well more of visiting the Isabella Blow – Fashion Galore exhibition at Somerset House and a tiny bit of shopping); we went to see a lovely flat (although I don’t think it’s quite right for us and nor did F); Christmas is coming and I got a new car.

I did all my Christmas cards (will post tomorrow), got most Christmas presents (except the main one for F which I’m getting during the weekend before Christmas plus, maybe, a few other small things), F’s birthday is sorted (depending on the Christmas post) and F will be cleaning the house whilst I’m away.

Yeah, OK, the going away thing is not so good. I will be away fours days (more or less), including the whole of this weekend. :-(

It’s for work, not pleasure and the timing is, well, not brilliant – other than, when I come back, the house will be clean. Apart from, maybe, the kitchen. F wants to do that when I’m there, otherwise, nothing will be thrown out and he’s a bit of a “thrower-outer” whereas I’m a bit of a hoarder, even with foodstuffs.

The menu is almost set both for Christmas Day and Boxing Day (when we shall have guests, as last year) and, at the rate New Year is going and the self-inviting that people seem to do, we may have a house full and be doing a buffet dinner rather than a sit down dinner! But that’s OK. It’s nice that people want to join us for New Year. The important thing is that we’re with the dogs (because of the fireworks).

For Boxing Day we shall have Roast Pork, some Christmas pudding made by Best Mate, some nice English cheese and a very nice bottle of port that I bought when I was over for Best Mate’s birthday! Plus, because we’re in Italy, lasagne, brodo with pasta, salumi (for which I have a mostarda made with tomotoes), panettone and a ton of wine. Mmmmmm.

We went to see a film on Sunday night (in Italian so I didn’t get a lot of the dialogue – and it was very dialogue-heavy – Venus in Furs). On the way back, as we strolled across Corso Buenos Aries, F remarked how he “didn’t feel Christmassy”. I pointed out that he said the same thing about the same time last year. He explained it was because Milan was so miserable. I said that the lights on CBA looked really lovely. He said that it wasn’t like London. I pointed out that, for me, there were the lights of Hereford or Hay-on-Wye and so, the lights here, in Milan, ARE wonderful although I agreed that London’s were better.

Anyway, I never feel really Christmassy until I’ve finished work for the holidays. Before that, it’s always such a rush to do everything in time – both at work and home.

Anyway, I AM looking forward to Christmas, being at home, with F and the dogs and feeling “safe” as I always do at home.

Got some nice Christmas films to watch as well :-)

So, things are, generally, pretty good!

And, anyway, should anything be bad, you can always do as the song says and give a little whistle.

It seems it’s back on!

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We have been in a bit of a lull, as I may have mentioned before now.

There was a point (I think about April or so of this year) when there was, what I believed was, serious talk about us moving in together.

There are, of course, fundamental differences in opinion upon what is “the perfect flat”. In addition, there are fundamental differences on where is the “perfect area to live”.

To recap, these are “somewhere light and airy” (him) and “somewhere with character” (me). “Somewhere modern” (him) and “somewhere from the 20s or 30s” (me). “An area of Milan that’s cheaper” (him) and “the area I have always lived in Milan” (me). “New furniture” (him) and “don’t mind as long as all my ‘period pieces’ come with me” (me).

See how close we are? ;-)

As I may have mentioned previously, I was an ardent looker for flats that didn’t come through an agency (less money to pay up front). Until, that was, I gave the numbers of a couple of places that I had found and rung, to F for him to follow up and make appointments. When he didn’t do that, I stopped looking.

Recently, in the last few weeks, he has started looking again.

And, this week he came up with one through an agency which he went to see yesterday. It’s a small distance away and, more or less, in the same area. It has good transport links. The important thing (and the thing that means that he has listened to me) is that, as he pointed out, it is in a beautiful, 1920s building. And he explained that it really wasn’t so far from where we live now.

He loves it since it fulfils his requirements of being very light and airy plus it is not a bad price for the size.

Unfortunately, I have to see it in the light (the electricity has been turned off, obviously). To do that, I have to wait until the weekend after next since we are away this weekend.

But he loves it and thinks it would be perfect. He is worried that in a week it will be taken.

My opinion is that he may be right. My secret opinion is that, if he is right, then it will still be there in just over a week, in spite of what he thinks to the contrary. My secret, secret opinion is that, actually, if it is right, I will know as soon as step into the place when all other considerations will fall by the wayside. He doesn’t know of my secret opinions.

Unfortunately, I still have my concerns over this “living together” as I know I have mentioned in a previous post. But there’s no concrete objections or thoughts – just concerns. I’m sure we can work them out but, given that we don’t really discuss important things, the working out of them may take some time. So my concerns remain.

Hmmm.