Ticket hunting after rash promising

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We have visitors coming over in July.

I like it when visitors come from the UK. There is so much to see and do in Milan and I do like to ‘show it off’ for, as you know, I love this city. F was talking about taking them to Venice as, for him, Venice is better. But, since the Sunday will be their anniversary and they would prefer to ‘be alone’, we probably shan’t go.

I have, of course, promised something that now seems to be a little more difficult than a) I thought and b) it was in the past.

I have, rashly, promised tickets to go and see ‘The Last Supper’. Given that my old telephone ‘died’, I lost the telephone number I had and, stupidly, I didn’t add it to this blog.

Searching the internet was not the easiest of tasks either but, eventually, I got a few different numbers. The one that is supposed to be ‘direct’ is constantly engaged. I don’t believe it. I am persistent. I am Taurean, after all. It seems that this is a false number or they only actually put it on the hook for an hour a day or something like that. We are in Italy so either is a real possibility.

There is an online booking service (but I think you will pay more). However, on that service, the tickets for June were only made available today. I checked this morning, several times. June tickets were not ‘up’. I checked again, about one hour ago. June tickets were up and everything was sold out apart from four days towards the end of June – and then, only at certain times. Bah! Sometimes this country really does annoy me.

And so I keep trying. I am quite determined. I will also try some of the other numbers – just in case.

I also thought of taking them to the Dialogo nel Buio (Dialogue in the Dark) as this is a great experience. It might not be open at the end of July but I only want to ring and ask once I have tickets to The Last Supper.

Obviously, as this is their first time in Milan, they have to see the Duomo. Also a trip around Via Montenapoleone and Via della Spiga is essential.

Plus some really nice restaurants. And some time for ‘bar sitting’, especially as it will be hot.

But, first, The Bloody Last Bloody Buggering Supper! Grrrrrr.

Update: I got through to one number. She can’t book for July yet and doesn’t know when they will be come available but about a month from now, she thinks. However, she explained that she has more days/tickets available than those shown on the website. Double grrrrrrr.

Blog Life

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Thursday, April 22nd, 2010.

Not a particularly odd day and yet the last day. Well, the last day for a post. And, so, a particularly odd day.

I haven’t been back for ages. You see she was inextricably linked to another woman who caused me some grief. In fact the woman who caused the birth of this place for my blog. And so I couldn’t link to her.

Oh, she replied after that. As late as June, I think. But then nothing. So April wasn’t exactly the ‘last day’ but rather the ‘last day of posting’.

But, it makes you think or, rather, it makes me think.

This is not intended to be morbid at all. But I am curious. Supposing I were to have an accident, tonight, on my way home. I wouldn’t have another post. There wouldn’t be another post. And yet, for some time, the blog would be ‘live’ and people would find it. But there would be no further correspondence and no comments posted it would just halt, as if frozen, as if that were the last day.

And people would come, from time to time and, maybe, wonder why I had suddenly stopped.

Just like me with that other blog. The one that I kept in my links but kept private and not on display.

She wasn’t young – but not so old either. Trying to organise flights off her island. Well, not her island but the island where she lives (or lived). For both her and various members of family who had come to stay but now want to go home but cannot because of a volcano and it’s ash (is it REALLY less than a year ago?).

And she says she is busy but, you know, not a single post in a year? Did she get to the UK? Did she get back?

It makes me wonder. Now, as she is a once-famous author, I googled her name. there is nothing to say she is no longer with us. So one wonders why.

And it struck me that I will, probably, never know. Not that I knew her in real life but, you know ……..?

And so it is true of my blog too since the only person that could really write something else cannot. Not only is he not English (and so it would be difficult but not impossible) but he doesn’t have the password or know his way around.

And there is no one else.

Not one.

And so it would just stop. And I’m not sure if, in my mind that isn’t more horrific than what would have physically happened to me to make it stop.

I mean to say, you couldn’t even ‘talk’ about it as the comments are moderated. At least, not here. So, you would have to wonder in silence. Like I am doing with her. Except I’m writing this. But this has no connection to her or her blog and so it is a vacuum.

And I guess I was in the ‘mood’ for this because I read about this – which may or may not be true but, probably, no one will ever know.

I think it’s the ‘not knowing’ that is worst.

But every blog has it’s ‘life’, after which, for various reasons, it must depart or be killed off or just be left hanging (although, some people have killed off more of their blogs than others – mentioning no names ;-) ).

Still, it is a sadness I feel.

The smell of dead things.

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Of course, certain smells and sights remind you of times, of places, of people, etc.

And I was in conversation with a couple of people the other day. I was explaining how our Purchasing department (occupied by three women) have plants and flowers dotted around but that most of their plants and flowers are in various stages of death.

And how there was one flower that, even when alive, I detested as, when alive, it smelt like a dead thing. And when dead it stopped smelling but looked like a dead thing. It has no redeeming features.

The other people were Italian and I was told that the smell was wonderful because it reminded them of spring. Of course, since we don’t have it in the UK, it doesn’t have this recollection for me – to me it is quite horrible.

The flower (or is it shrub) is mimosa and today, being La Festa delle Donne (Women’s Day) it the flower of choice to give to a woman. I suppose, in the same way, the flower for St David’s Day is a daffodil (since it’s almost the only flower out in the UK on St David’s Day).

I don’t give it. I couldn’t bear to have it in the same space as me. Dreadful, dreadful stuff.

Also, as it happens, this is Pancake Day – but only in the UK, I fear. This is a shame as I really like pancakes. I could make my own but, somehow, this not being Pancake Day here takes all of the impetus out of it.

I suppose, as it’s Pancake Day, it must also mean it is Shrove Tuesday.

Wow! There’s a LOT of stuff going on today.

Are you doing pancakes or celebrating Women’s Day or doing some other wonderful thing for this very full Tuesday?

*Sigh* – Well that was nice.

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Wasn’t yesterday a beautiful day?

Well, OK, for those of you who don’t live in Milan, it may not have been. But here it was truly fantastic. The sun shone and it was too warm to wear a hat and scarf! Also, I had the windows of the flat open for most of the day.

Saturday night, we went to see the King’s Speech – in Italian. I loved it still. For me, Geoffrey Rush made the film. However, I really did feel that, in Italian, it lost something. The stuttering which, after all, is what the film is about, could not be portrayed in quite the same way since the words in Italian are different and so it wasn’t consistent – and it seemed, sometimes, that the stuttering was ignored – and, therefore, the real struggle with it did not come across properly.

Added to that, there is so much background history that the Italians don’t know. I mean, the speech, the subject of the film, is something that most British people will know about since it has been played many, many times.

And, although I’m not a royalist, it does give you some feeling for the Royals which I find hard to understand myself.

But go see it, even in Italian if you can’t see it in English.

F said that it shouldn’t have won ‘Best Film’ at the Oscars. He said it was nothing compared to ‘The lives of others’ – his favourite film. I tried to point out that the film he loves was a number of years ago and you could always say that about your favourite film. But I think he was just saying it for effect.

And then we went to Al Basilico Fresco, as it is very close to the cinema and where I had a pizza that was fantastic – smoked bacon with parmesan and fresh tomatoes. It was really one of the very best I’ve had for a long time. Maybe I should rate the place higher. The only problem with it is that it gets really full and there is little space between the tables. But, still, very nice.

Yesterday, because the weather was really so nice, after going for breakfast with An, the three of us walked up Corso Buenos Aires for a bit, arriving home about 11 a.m. F had to iron and pack as he’s gone to Germany for the week. But later, he and I took the dogs out for an hour or so, which was lovely.

Unfortunately, it’s gone colder again this morning and cloudy. And the forecast for next weekend is rain and heavy rain. F doesn’t get back until Saturday evening. But that’s OK. I must do some things on Saturday (apart from sleep in). This is going to be a VERY busy week! Lessons every night and, for most nights, two lessons. Still it’s money towards the holiday.

Floating

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I can’t explain it at all.

I was out with A last night. You know, the ‘eating Mars Bars means your gay’ A. Luckily, he doesn’t get offended with what I write since he knows it’s mainly stuff in my head. Anyway, he wanted to know why I hadn’t bought a house/flat here.

I tried to explain that when I made the ‘life change’ of coming here, I decided that this included having a house/flat that I was buying. My life change was as mental as it was physical. I didn’t want to run my own company and I didn’t want a mortgage.

He said that things were different here. And he’s right, in a way. Job security is very high. So I could get a mortgage and know that I could pay it off without worrying about losing my job or anything. But that’s not really the point. I just didn’t want to be having a house/flat of my own. It’s not only the mortgage. It’s the problem of the permanence of it all. The ‘putting down roots’, etc. I just didn’t want that. I mean to say, I loved living in Herefordshire but, you know, the fixing of life – where you are, what you’re doing, etc? I didn’t want it anymore. I was, kind of, disappointed with it. I think because, by the end of the time in Herefordshire, I realised that none of anything was permanent – however much you think it is. It can all be taken away from you in a moment. And, if you’re ‘attached’ to something (house, place, job), when it all comes to an end, you cling on. And it’s the clinging on that really hurts. The letting it go is easy – or, rather, easier.

So I let go. I jumped off the cliff and found that although I couldn’t fly, exactly, I could sort of float. And floating is good. Floating is pleasant. Floating is gentle. Floating means you have the time and the inclination to look around, to enjoy the things you have without the feeling of pain that they might be taken away.

I like floating. I am grateful for the winds that drove me here and I like being here, in this place, at this time, with the people I like and love. And, if the winds take me somewhere else, then that’s fine too.

My goal is to be content. Like my grandfather. And I am content, most of the time. If I can reach the 100% contentment all the time then that will be perfect. 100% contentment doesn’t come with a house and mortgage, nor with a job (although it can help), nor through a person (although that can help too), nor with any one nor any thing.

Contentment comes from within.

Yes, I like floating.

Soon it will not be safe!

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Well here’s something that annoys me enough to write about. Hurrah! Sort of. If you see what I mean.

Marciapiede. That’s pavement (or sidewalk for Gail) to you. You know, the things on the side of the streets that, in theory, permit people to walk around without dodging cars. Kinda useful in reducing the deaths of people. Of course, a car going 100 mph and mounting a pavement is bound to cause a bit of damage, especially to any warm soft bodies in the way.

However, here, in Milan, that’s less likely to happen. I.e. you’re probably in less danger of getting run over, walking down the pavement here, than, say, in any other city in the UK! Although I have no actual figures to back it up. So I could be wrong. But it seems highly likely to me.

Now, why would that be, you ask. Or should be asking. Because if you’re not asking then this post is pointless. So ask then and I will disclose why.

OK. You’re probably safer from getting run over by a car here because ………………………

…………….. there are already a lot of cars on the pavement. Parked, of course.

I wouldn’t want to be pushing a pram around in Milan though. Then I would spend half my time on the road because, often, there is not enough room between the parked car and the building for me to pass with a push chair.

Not EVERY bit of pavement is taken up with a parked car. Sometimes they have barriers put up – to, erm, stop people parking their car!

But, then, these areas can be full too. Not of people. No, no, no. Full of mopeds and motorbikes. Obviously, a bike can get and park where a car cannot.

Or, if not, then pushbikes.

But, on the positive side, I don’t have a pushchair. I only have two dogs and I secretly pray, every time that we go past one of the ‘parked’ cars, that they will cock their legs. And they do sometimes and I am filled with glee.

Normally (in fact, always, in my experience) if you are walking past and a car wants to park (on the pavement, where you are walking), they will have the decency to wait until you have gone past.

However, my experience is that this is not so with mopeds and motorbikes. And I find that annoying. But it doesn’t happen very often.

What DOES happen, quite often, when I’m walking the dogs, is that a cyclist (pushbike) will be on the pavement and expect you to move out of their way.

Now, in the same way that I must learn some Italian phrases for when I see someone allowing their dog to defaecate on the pavement and then the owner not picking it up – which in English would equate to something like – You disgusting dirty person! Pick up your dog’s shit! – I should learn something like – This is called a marciapiede (meaning something like foot way) because it is for FEET and not WHEELS. The road is for WHEELS so stop dinging your bloody bell at me to get me to move and move yourself to the street, where you should be!

But I haven’t learnt that yet. And so, I was both shocked, outraged and immensely amused by this. It seems someone has been looking at other cities (like London for example, where cycling on the pavement can get you a hefty fine as it illegal) and decided that some of our pavements here are large enough to allow a cycle lane on them.

I snorted.

These people are completely crazy! Do they not realise that the cycle lane would simply become a ‘legitimate’ place for car parking. But then ALL the cyclists will think that, as their lane is taken up by the car park, they will have justified use of the pavement (or foot way) and so things will be worse than before!

(Actually, Pietro tells me that the cyclists on pavements can be fined. It’s just that here, I guess, the police and traffic wardens don’t know that fact).

The end of a rather peculiar week.

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It has been a rather peculiar week, to be honest.

Ask me to put my finger on it and I can’t. There are so many half-written posts about things I found strange (but in reality weren’t that strange) or things that got me a bit miffed (drivers, dog shit, other people’s stupidity, etc.). At times I’ve felt as though I was somewhere else, some other-worldness.

And it’s been cold. Like winter, which, as you know, I hate. And there’s wind, making it seem much, much colder.

I got a bit drunk the other night. I’ve been teaching English, except not nearly as much as was planned but I might have another student, maybe. And then, before M was due to come (but didn’t because he finished work late but he’s going to pay me anyway), S texted asking if I can do lessons over the weekend. Very strange. She hasn’t been for a lesson since Christmas and then, suddenly, last night, ‘Can you do a lesson at the weekend?’. When I suggested either Saturday or Sunday afternoon, she plumped for Sunday afternoon – but then added that maybe she could do Saturday as well! Two lessons in two days after a couple of months of nothing? The only thing that crosses my mind is that she has a new boyfriend and, maybe, he’s English or American or Australian or something? I am, as you may be able to tell, intrigued. She has led a rather strange life.

I got home last night to see that my bedroom had been changed. A little. It seems I have been given a connection to next door by means of two new holes. To be honest, the first thing I noticed was plaster on top of the chest of drawers whereupon my first thought was ‘Shit! I guess the ceiling is coming down'; the plaster work in Italy seeming to be really crap. And, yes, some of the plaster was down but not from the ceiling. From a couple of holes, fairly high up on the wall. This wasn’t some crappy plasterwork but, rather, because someone had been drilling and inserted some sizable bolts from the other side!

My second thought was that I could go and get the hammer and punch the screw/bolt back through. That would mean, of course, that whatever was being held up on the other side might fall down. But I didn’t do that. I’m not quite that mischievous! But the thought made me smile.

Apart from a thought of ‘what the fuck?’ when I first saw the holes, I am, as usual, fairly relaxed about it all. After all, it’s only a wall and someone can come and fix it. It’s not really that big a deal. In fact, it’s quite amusing.

So, apart from the lesson (or lessons) over the weekend, we have no plans. F is going to Germany next week so there will be a lot of preparation that needs to be done and a ‘beauty farm’, as he calls it. This means that, invariably, I won’t see him that much over the weekend. However, I’m hoping that I can convince him to go to the cinema to see The Kings Speech which, now I’ve seen it in English, I really want to see in Italian (see, I told you it was a peculiar week :-D ). Anyway, the weather forecast says it will be a bit brighter than of late and, much more importantly, warmer. Not warm enough, of course, but warmer is better than colder.

And, did I tell you that I have booked our week in the agriturismo for August? The same place as last year. We’ve ‘been going to do it’ since Christmas but then things have happened and we never got round to it. And, then, recently F was so stressed. So I rang them up a couple of days ago and booked it. I was a bit nervous about doing it in case F didn’t really want to go (even if he had been saying that he really wanted to). Anyway, it seems it was the right thing to do and F seemed very happy that I had done it. I know what he’s like when he’s stressed at work and, I suppose, as time goes on, I shall be able to do more of this kind of stuff.

And I must remember to buy a couple of work shirts. There are some at a shop round the corner for €6! Seems a bit of a bargain to me – and they’ll only be for work anyway. And get some soap. And relax a bit as this week, with all the bits and pieces going on, I have been a tad busy.

And you? Are you doing something slightly more exciting than me (which, to be honest, wouldn’t be difficult :-) )?

Chainsaws in Milan.

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As I have probably mentioned before, I am a country lad at heart. OK, so less of the lad these days, unfortunately. Most of my life has been lived in the countryside and I truly adore the country living – although it is completely different from living in a city and you have to have a different mindset, for certain.

Quite often, when living in North-West Herefordshire, you would hear, in the distance, the sound of the chainsaw as they were cutting down some trees. That’s if the grackles weren’t making too much noise, of course. It was, particularly, a spring and autumn sound. It is a reassuring sound (to me).

This morning, I heard it again. In the country it lasts for several minutes. This morning it lasted for a few seconds. And then repeated a few seconds later. Of course, I don’t live in the countryside any more, so it was unlikely at before 7 a.m. I would be hearing this sound in the middle of Milan!

And, of course, it wasn’t a chainsaw at all.

Bless him, I thought, but it is really loud – perhaps it’s because he’s so old. After all, this gets worse as you get older – loosening of muscles (you might even say ‘saggy’, especially round the waist), a general ‘relaxing’ of everything. And then I thought that it was good that I had shut them in the kitchen whilst I carried out my morning ablutions and got dressed. If he had been in the bedroom, he would have woken F!

I moved from the lounge (where I was dressing) to the bathroom to do my tie and became aware that the sound was coming from the wrong place.

It wasn’t Rufus after all but F himself! It made me laugh.

Inconsiderate basterds

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I can go several different ways home. However, almost invariably, at some point, quite near home, there is a part of a road where there are three lanes for the traffic and prominent signs suggesting that your car will be towed away should you park there.

We are in Italy, of course, so these signs are only for guidance. I have, on very rare occasions, seen traffic wardens issuing tickets – but most of the time not. Cars park as if it is a normal road. On one road, they even double park. Meaning that, in effect, there is only one lane open to traffic which, invariably, gets a bit clogged up.

I don’t really understand it. I mean, I understand why they ignore the signs. I mean why, if you are insensitive to others’ needs and if you know that the chances you’ll get caught are remote, would you bother to hunt for a real parking space?

No, what I don’t understand is why Milan doesn’t earn more money from this? I mean, even if they went round once a week, they could issue fines which, I’m sure, would more than cover the cost of deploying the wardens. I have never seen no cars there.

And, am I a little annoyed? Well, yes, actually, I am.

It may be winter outside – there’s no ‘may’ about it.

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It is said, apparently, that the worst day of the year is the second Monday in January. Or somewhere around then. I’m not sure that’s true. Now is the worst time.

The night comes later and it’s almost properly light by the time I go to work, so it should be much better, right?

Yes, it all helps and gives you the hope of spring but ………

it’s still winter outside and I (and many other people, it would seem) have had enough!

Update: Now the sun is shining but don’t be fooled. It’s still too damned cold :-(