As weak as a baby


He turns to me and slips his free arm around me; his other being above my head – I’ve tried this but can’t do it. He cuddles me and he’s warm and it feels good.

There are times, many times, when I feel secure in his love, knowing, as I do, that we both want this.

As I think of it now it gives me that warm feeling, deep inside, warming me in a way that, although not true, I’ve never been warmed before.

He wasn’t feeling so well. His stomach – although what, exactly, was wrong, I still couldn’t ascertain.

He wanted to watch L’isola di famosi which is the Italian version of I’m a celebrity get me out of here – but it’s not quite the same, we are in Italy, after all.

I lay on the bed with him and just wanted to hug him and kiss him but, instead, didn’t even touch him as he had the bad stomach and, even after this short time together, I know better than to do that.

So I let him reach for my hand; him turn over to me and rest his head on my shoulder – yes, he calls the shots and, sometimes, I feel as weak and stupid as a baby.

I write this on my way to Bologna; the restaurant is booked for lunch. I invited him to come but he couldn’t or didn’t want to – I suspect what with tomorrow and the test results and the travelling down to his parents, etc.

And I think that he will miss me and think that he wants me with him and I wonder when he will be back home and what he will want to do when he gets back.

In the meantime there is this evening – S&N’s leaving aperitivo. I have made arrangements to go with L, who lives round the corner from me. He is invited. I made the decision that I couldn’t wait for him or ‘not go’ and, so, I go anyway. We shall see if he comes or, if not, then what he will propose for the night – me having made the decision that I will be strong and stay at mine – knowing all along that I am as weak as a baby when it comes to him ………

Not a politically correct post but it’s my blog (and it’s the truth).

We are all equal. We have equal rights to everything, including jobs. There should be no discrimination.

Except that isn’t really true. There are complaints that models are too thin. But, having been to a show, it would be insane to have 20 stone, 5 foot high models. There’s the space, there’s the clothes, there’s the look. I mean, you tend to clean your house if you’re trying to sell it, don’t you. after all, you want it to be seen in the best light possible. In the same way, you can’t have jockeys who are 6 foot tall and weigh 20 stone.

So there are reasons. For people who don’t fit the physical requirements, they may feel discriminated against – and they would, of course, be right. So, should we really complain? And at what point do you draw the line between practicality and true discrimination?

On our flight was a rather larger than normal, uglier than normal, steward/stewardess. Ugliness or beauty is in the eye of the beholder and our idea of beauty does change over generations/centuries. And although it really doesn’t matter a great deal, we all prefer to be served by someone with a pretty face, wouldn’t we?  However that wasn’t really the issue.

The size was more the key. It’s bad enough, when you have an aisle seat to be constantly buffetted by large-assed people going to and fro but to have stewards/esses like this is inconsiderate by the airline and yet, no doubt, they are trying to stay within the regulations regarding employment discrimination.  For me, being in an aisle seat it made the flight more uncomfortable.

For certain this steward/ess ain’t going to be appearing on and advertisements for the airline. It would hardly serve them well in spite of all we may say about discrimination being all wrong.

Travelling to the North Pole – and other bits and bobs

I hate travelling.

Well, that’s not really true.  The actual travelling I don’t mind so much.  I hate the bit where you have (as in this case) half an hour before you get the taxi or whatever.  If I were going on my own, I would get a taxi now and go.  I would be at the airport early but no matter.  However, I have to get a taxi in about half an hour and pick some other people up along the way to the airport.  So I am ready (more or less) but have half an hour to spare.

I hate to be late but, in this case, I cannot be early.  I hate the thought of missing the plane (even if I don’t actually want to go) and so I am early and ready but am now twiddling my thumbs, so to speak.  The kettle is boiling for my last decent warm drink for some days to come.

The weather here has warmed up quite a lot.  Now we get highs of 15 or 16 degrees in the afternoon.  Where I’m going it will get to 3 degrees, if I am lucky and there might be some snow.  I am going, quite obviously, much further north.  Regular readers will know that I don’t like ‘cold’.  Hmph!  Already, I can’t wait to get back.

F is away also so I have had to make other arrangements for the dogs.  Not ideal but the best I can do.  F is back on Friday night so will stay with the dogs that night.  I am back the next day.  I miss him a lot but you have no idea how pleasant it is to be with someone who a) loves their job and b) works hard at it.  I really have no problem with it, even if I miss him like crazy when he is away.

The night before last, he received some gifts for his birthday (more than 2 months later).  Tickets to see Whitney Houston in Milan and a night at a range of hotels in Italy.  As he rightly pointed out, I get the benefit too.

One of the things with V was that V would say something but it would never actually transpire.  I’ve found that F does the same.  It’s not quite the same but annoying all the same.  So, the ‘we’re going to Tuscany at Easter’ has turned into him going to Tuscany the week before or something like that.  I mean, I don’t mind but I wish he hadn’t said that it was ‘we’ in the beginning.  It’s not that he doesn’t keep his word, exactly, it’s just that when the time actually comes, with all the logistics, things change, whereas, if I say something then, for me it is set.  Still, I’m learning and at least it is not as bad as V’s specials.

So now we have no specific plans for Easter.  It’s only the extra days’ holiday but I intend to take some extra days off and make it longer.  I’ve told him but I think I shall have to tell him again.  Maybe we can go to Mantova for a day or to the lakes to my friend’s mother’s house.  Maybe.  It’s all a bit unclear.  But I really want to spend some time with him away from our houses, away from Milan, in a way, to force us to spend more time together.  See, I’m still worried about the fact that we have nothing in common; that we have done nothing ‘together'; that we’re not building a ‘history’.

Still, there are times when it seems so ‘easy’.  He shows me affection (in his way) and I try not to touch him too much, not to annoy him.  But, for certain now, the discussion is ‘where we spend the night’ not ‘will we spend the night together’.  And it usually revolves around practical things like he wants to see the dogs or the other night when he was getting up early to go to Spain (and therefore it was better to be at his place).

And he still makes me laugh.  And I still adore him.  And I miss him.

The next few weeks are important (I think).  His last relationship lasted 6 months.  The guy saying ‘I love you’ very often until one morning, after the ‘I love you’s of the night before said that it was all over.  F didn’t understand.  So now he is less trustful but I try to show him that I am true and faithful and honest and stick to my word.  It’s all I can do but still, I feel, he doesn’t really ‘relax’ into it all.  And, of course, nor am I ‘relaxed’ into it all, as you may tell from my posts.

And now I have 15 minutes before I leave and so I leave you, for a few days whilst I go to a place that, for me, might as well be the North Pole!

Not really missing the BBC; It must be summer; Looking forward to the weekend (almost)!


Further to my post, I’m pleased to say that weaning off the BBC is a little easier than I would have thought. I always did enjoy the Guardian and now that I’ve had the chance to explore the website a little more, I am decidedly liking it.

I also like being able to comment on pieces, unlike the BBC which just had the “Have Your Say” which, quite frankly, was not really very good.

Just like in the UK, people here complain about the weather – often. At the moment we are getting above 30 degrees in the afternoon and they are complaining that it is too hot and too humid. Certainly, as we are in a city, the humidity is worse (but nowhere near as bad as in the UK) but really, it’s not so bad.

Well, at least, there’s one person in Milan who is thoroughly enjoying this hot weather!

And, I have to ‘fess up. I don’t like travelling for work any more (or, really, travelling at all); I don’t like Paris; I don’t like working weekends and I don’t like shows (even less if I am working the stand). But….. I am almost looking forward to this weekend when I shall be in Paris.

Don’t know why, really. Possibly because I will be able to have some really good food? Or a nice bottle of wine? Or get some of the cheese (Boursault – and I shall have to get some for V who is looking after the boys) that I really like? Or, the chance that I will be able to do some reading during the boring bits (which is likely to be most of it, I think).

On the plus side, I go to the airport directly from home (about 10 minutes by taxi) and from the airport, directly to the hotel. So I only have to put up with the ‘show’ for two days. Then Monday is an all-day job driving back. There will have to be frequent stops for cigarettes, for certain, as I shall be with a colleague.

But, still I’m not quite sure why I am almost looking forward to it. Very strange.

The Final Conclusion or The Final Betrayal; Travelling and Quandaries; Not as Gay as I was?


The Final Answer to The Final Question has been confirmed in the affirmative. This has made V very happy despite it being too late in certain respects.

Of course, The Final Answer is not the end of it. There will either be The Final Conclusion or The Final Betrayal. At this stage, obviously, I don’t know which. I have been promised The Final Conclusion but, if you’ve been reading this blog over the last few months, you will have some idea as to my uncertainty regarding things concerning V.

This last few weeks have been somewhat busy at work, hence my lack of posting. And, when I get home, there is, now, less time to sit at the computer and ‘mess around’ than there was.

And, it is almost certain (I shall know on Friday, definitely), I shall be going to the UK for a few days for work. Whilst I am there, I shall stay on a few days to renew my passport. It seems, from the website, that I shall be able to get it all done in 1 day (at extra cost, of course). This is slightly imperative on the basis that I shall only have one day to do it before needing to travel back to Milan! I shall let you know how it goes, for all of you ex-pats.

The alternative was a month to wait whilst it went through the consulate in Rome.

And then there will be Paris in June.

And the reason for writing this is the dogs, for I absolutely MUST do something with them and I cannot take them with me. So what to do? I can put them in kennels of course. Or I could get someone to look after them. Or I could ask V but asking V means that I have to rely on him. It’s a quandary. In addition, the day I come back will be the day that used to be our anniversary. I don’t know that I want to go and pick the dogs up on that day. However, since it is only two weeks before the first trip I do need to do something pretty sharpish.

Finally, as you will have read in an earlier post, it seems I may not be quite as gay as I thought I might be, in spite of using hand cream. And by that I mean that I lost the cream (it fell from my pocket whilst walking to the car) and I didn’t notice for two days!

To be fair, my hands, or rather, the part of my hands that were particularly bad, are much better. But there is still a stubborn area of hard skin. So I bought some new hand cream and have started using it once or twice a day. I’m not sure I can stand any more than that!

But, as soon as they are back to normal I shall stop using the stuff and be back, once more, to being the straight gay guy that I have always been. Hurrah!

My own private jet….and airport…..and security……. aka the joys of travelling these days.


I remember, 10 or 15 years ago, travelling, for me, was still exciting and pleasurable. There was the thrill of the flight as I really love flying; the fun of having an expense account and being able to eat and drink, more or less, as I wanted; the prestige of being one of those ‘business travellers’ that you see or hear about.

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The weekend and other things


This weekend was spent, mostly, working. My other job that is. To be honest the whole thing should have taken about 2 hours. It took most of Saturday because my websites’ hosters had to do things – but, obviously, only after I’d tried to fix it myself!

And still I can’t make it do what the customer really wants but on this one, other than a fiddly work-around, which really isn’t practical, it looks like there is no way to do it. Damn.

And then there were the accounts to do as Year End has just finished. I found that, in spite of thinking I had been keeping it pretty much up-to-date, I hadn’t. So it took me a little while. Damn again.

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Please, don’t go to sleep on the floor whilst flying.

Swiss, formerly Swiss Air, is an airline I like to fly with. As I was in charge of the booking of our trip to Wolverhampton, I chose not only Swiss to fly with but also the Novotel in Wolverhampton to stay at.

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Driving at stupid times

It’s nearly midnight and I start the drive back to the Lakes. I had offered to go back just as we arrived in Milan and would have been back before 10, I reckoned, but was informed that although it would be difficult, it would be alright and that ‘one’ would manage.

Then, as I was finishing up my drink and closing my computer I hear an ‘Oh, no!’ wail from across the hallway. It seems that the tickets for the flight to Rome and to that very important meeting, the next day (but only just) were in the bag left behind. So, instead of going to bed to sleep for 6 hours (which is the very minimum I need to function like a human being of any sort), I get my shoes and coat on and head out the door. To return a few minutes later to collect the bag with the car documents which are essential here as it’s illegal to drive without all the documents, both for the car and for yourself.

In the car, I forget to take off my jacket first so I know it will get too hot, but I cannot be bothered to stop.

I start to drive and it’s foggy. In fact, it’s very foggy. I’m driving out of Milan, on the motorway, and I’m thinking that, at this speed, it will take me all night. Luckily, the fog stops not too far from Milan and the roads are clear so it makes for an easy journey. Me, of course, grumbling about the fact that I could have done this several hours earlier and be in bed by now.

Then, just off the motorway, I get flagged down by the police. Thank God that I went back for the bag containing the documents. After about 10 minutes they hand everything back to me and I continue.

I arrive back at the house to find the door bolted from inside. This means I have a choice. I can go sleep in the car until about 6 a.m. or I can raise them now. ‘Them’ being the relations that live in the same building (it’s owned by one family).

It’s about 1.20 a.m. I’m thinking of a warm bed against the (very soon to be) cold car. And, of course of the fact that it’s getting colder and that there may be more fog by morning.

So, I rang the bell. They were very understanding but I just wish, so much, that I had gone when I first thought of it and then I would not have had to wake them up at all. V owes them (and me) a present for this!

The drive back was uneventful. The fog stretched further from Milan but did not seem quite so thick. I made it home just before 3. That meant 3 hours sleep. However, so far, today, I haven’t felt so bad. I know that I only have to hang on for a couple more hours (well 4 to be precise) and then I can be in bed.

And the special prize this morning – the flight was cancelled. I presume they caught another as I have had no word from V, so I guess the meeting with all the important people, went ahead.

There’s Moaning and there’s Moaning.

Mantova, Saturday, 8th September.

We are staying in Residence in Centro, in Mantova, having got kicked out of our previous place (more later). The room is a small flat with its own kitchenette (we can do our own coffee in the morning) and the bedroom on a kind of landing, up some creaky wooden steps. All very nice – except for one problem. The series of ‘flats’ are in a converted outbuilding. The way they have been built means that you can hear a pin drop about 3 ‘flats’ along (not quite, but you get the idea).

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