That’ll be just A in Milan, now, I guess

I’m getting more spam on here at the moment - all captured and not published but I still have to check it, so it’s a pain.

Usually, the English is terrible. Often, in spite of links to different sites, the messages are the same. I think the best one I have ever had was the one that just said ‘I hate you’ the other details of this were: http://www.lloydstsbbusiness.com/ (being the link), Holquist@gmail.com (being the email address) and 67.212.185.94 (being the IP address). I kept that one, even if it isn’t published. Most tell me what a wonderful site this is and how wonderfully I write and how the ‘post’ was so informative and was the perfect answer to some life-long question that the supposed person had had.

A few offer me ways to make this web site something that can generate so much cash that I would never have to work again. A few offer pornographic sites that are, of course, the best.

Still, the ‘I hate you’ one was by far the best and, strangely, I really love it!

Actually, I think I’m getting more spam because of my ‘Elton John is Gay!’ post. It has been the one most favoured by Google searches as of late. It seems that if you type in ‘William Hague Gay’ and search for images - the image I posted comes out as the first one! Who would have known?

Even though that image is used by a number of other newspaper sites, mine is first

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I had a very nice comment from Saruk to say that Mantova will be waiting for me next time! I am so happy about that. The weather, this weekend, will be very nice and I remember so many nice years being at the Festival - even the year where an African artist, doing some rain-evoking chanting/dance thing meant that the heavens opened and the storm was so bad that the event had to be cancelled, people walking over chairs as the auditorium was flooded (perhaps God was looking down after all! :-D) - enjoying both the Festival and the fine weather, meeting friends from Mantova and the UK. Ah, good times.

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Facebook, the popular social networking site is losing some of its function - at least for me.

There are many applications (games) on there and, having moved on from Farmville, I am now playing Camelot. This is Farmville with wars which makes it a little more interesting.

Every time something happens (like you complete a quest or get a token from Merlin or ask for help building a castle or searching for your destroyed army after some battle), it is posted on your wall for all your friends to see. Since the purpose of this game is to grow and become stronger then encourage you to become friends with as many people as possible and so, now, I am ‘friends’ with people all over the world - people who I have never met and am unlikely to meet and who, in real life, are unlikely to be friends.

And, yet, since you ’speak’ to a lot of these people almost every day, since you have common goals, since you are sharing experiences (albeit fictional ones within the game), they feel the same as real friends and provoke the same emotions.

There is laughter, crying, anger, frustration - in exactly the same way as if they were ‘real people’ (yes, I know they are real people but they are only ‘virtual’ friends, so you know what I mean). Recently, when the leader of my alliance was verbally attacked by other members of our alliance it caused a rift every bit as real as if we all lived in the same village. The hatred was just as vicious, the outpouring of emotion from all sides, just as real and vivid.

And, for me too! I was surprised at myself and noted how much I felt, how much, inside, I was upset or angered. The edges of the virtual and the real were blurred.

Originally, Facebook (as far as I was aware) was intended for a way to keep in contact with friends from real life; to see how they were doing; to share photographs; to tell everyone how you were doing, what you were doing, etc. But this ‘gaming’ thing is different. It never was quite the same with Farmville - but with Camelot the virtual world becomes another ‘real’ world, even if it isn’t. Friends are not friends but more like colleagues in the game with all the political and emotional ‘games’ that people play in real life work situations or, even real life social situations. Although it does tend to be a little more like school with it’s excess of pettiness, etc.

The major downside is that, with all these Camelot friends, posting all this stuff on the main page, the real purpose of Facebook has changed and it’s difficult to see what your real friends are doing, so lost are their few posts to the hundreds generated by Camelot each day.

So, whereas Camelot started as a subset of Facebook, now it almost seems as if Facebook has become a subset of Camelot! Of course, I could ‘hide’ all these Camelot posts. But to do that would mean that I lose out on free Merlin’s tokens and not be able to help these virtual friends of mine (and in turn they will not help me, perhaps?). Mixed in with these posts are the Farmville posts and the Frontierville posts (which, although I don’t play that, come up as some ‘friends’ do play it), etc., etc.

And, so, Facebook, instead of telling you anything about your real friends, tells you so much about what they are doing in these virtual games.

Of course, there is a solution to this (Facebook - if you’re listening?). That is to have two ‘front pages’. The front page for games and the other front page for sharing photographs, posting things of real interest rather than the fact that you are building a castle or have found, on your farm, a party duck, etc.

But, back to the game and how much real life is there in this virtual world. Is this what the social network founders had in mind? I suspect not. The creation of a world, bringing together people who will never meet and who, if they had, would never be real friends has, I suspect, modified the function of social networking, creating something that is similar to social networking but cuting across the boundaries of the real world.

But, then, this IS like the real world, I suppose, just on a global scale and in a virtual world that, to all intents and purposes, is a mirror of the real world. This gaming is much like school or work. People from different backgrounds and with different (moral) standards, forced into a small, inner world, where, here, they have something in common as one does in school or at work. The only danger that I see is where the virtual world of the game is taken too seriously (and I assure you that it is) by some people. There is a danger that the emotions in this world become too real and people lose the ability to see it for what it really is - a game and not really the most important thing in life.

Of course, I should be packing now instead of writing this. But I am always ‘last minute’.

The dogs are in being groomed. I may have to collect them at any time.

F is at work. He is slightly peeved that I didn’t answer my phone straight away but it was on charge.

I’ve been and got the money from the scratch cards for him. I went to the supermarket to buy Autan because the vet suggested that this would stop the dogs getting bitten by sand flies (that pass on some dreadful disease, apparently) but I shall get a collar when I pick them up later too.

Whilst in the supermarket I saw that they had English milk. Well, not exactly from the UK but, rather, made in the English style. I drink a lot of milk. The problem here is that it is a bit watery for my liking. Proper, full-fat English milk would be great - except that they are in bottles. Not plastic bottles but glass bottles. So maybe I won’t. Carrying that back from the supermarket would be a real pain. Plus, it was expensive.

But now I must get back to packing. I don’t want to be doing it still when F arrives and wants to leave!

And, so, it’s unlikely I will post anything for a week and a half or so. I have decided not to take my computer. I have books and we have cards. The danger with the computer is that I will play the Facebook game - and that is time consuming and not something I should be doing when on holiday!

We have four days at the beach in Tuscany, followed by a week in Umbria, in the hills. It should be lovely. F wants to take Dino down to the sea because he thinks Dino will swim and enjoy it. I’m not so sure but it will be fun finding out!

And so, my dear reader, I leave you for this, our first real holiday together. I am so looking forward to it.

Whatever you are doing, have great couple of weeks and I will see you when I get back

“It’s all too fast”, he states.

“Not for me, it isn’t”, I reply.

“At our age you have to take things more slowly”.

“Really? Why?”

And I mean it. Really? Why? Why does one have to take it slowly? Surely, one should take it slowly when you’re very young - when there really IS enough time. Now, we should be rushing and going as fast as possible.

He suggests it is because of experience but concedes that that’s not in my experience - so outside my knowledge. Later, I think that I should have said that, more or less, when I was his age, I started a relationship with the guy I just spent over 20 years with - and, if I had my life over again, I would do exactly the same.

“But it’s been over nine months”, I attempt to justify to him. He has this habit of not looking at me. Of moving his head in such a way as to appear blind - like blind people do - looking into the air and moving their head from left to right - see Stevie Wonder, for example.

He doesn’t look at me when he says, “C’mon Andrew, 9 months is very short”.

I won’t argue with him. He doesn’t understand. To be, possibly, meeting the family after 9 months together is not fast. It’s slightly more than snail’s pace.

But then, as I pointed out to him, no one in the UK at the age of 30+ (or, even 20+) would consider spending the two/three weeks of their holiday at their parent’s house. Christmas, probably. Easter, maybe. But your summer holiday? Going home and spending all that time with your parents? Are you crazy?

So we may look the same but, mentally, we’re very, very different.

Even in little things. We got to the bar and there were empty tables at the far end, outside. I sat with my back to a huge fan they had going. A sat opposite me. The fan turned and, at one point in its cycle, the air blew, quite strongly, on to my back and the the back of my neck.

“I can’t sit here”, he says. “The fan will mean that I will get a [stiff] neck”, he says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, the part not being affected by the wind from the fan. Still, he got the waiter to adjust it, all the same. I’ve only ever really seen that here. No one in the UK gets that bothered by a bit of air movement. How can we? It’s so windy so often!

And, talking of the UK, I’m wondering what to take F to see and what to avoid. Should I go to my parent’s house (just to look where it is, not for any other reason); or just stick to Worcester - walk round a bit - Hereford we can do after the wedding. I will go to my Grandfather’s grave - just for a few moments - he was/is still my hero.

But, I want him to see where I’ve ‘come from’, so to speak. I don’t know why. But it might be boring. I have to be careful. We shall, hopefully, meet up with the bride and groom the day before and some other friends just afterwards and then, I hope, providing she can do it, go and stay with Best Mate for a few days.

I would like to go and see V’s Dad - but probably won’t get the chance. I would like to see Corrine but, again, it might be a bit much for F.

Or, perhaps, we should just suck it and see?

Let’s be honest people are strange.

Take V, for instance. When we first got together, he had a thing about his birthday. We used to go to his parents. He would arrive, expecting presents by the barrow-load. One time, we arrived about 11 a.m. No one was home. He got so angry. Why weren’t they there to celebrate his birthday? How dare they just go out! We left and went home, I think - although maybe we didn’t. All I remember is the anger. I tried to explain that as he hadn’t told them when he was coming, how were they to know to be there at that time. But there was really no placating him.

When we had the computer business, there was this woman, A, who worked closely with him. She was married to L. Every year, it didn’t matter what L tried to do, birthdays, Christmases and anniversaries were fraught with danger. For him it must have felt like going over the top at the Western Front!

Every time was the same. He would try and surprise her with something and every time he would be rebuffed as it wasn’t what she wanted or was too cheap or something. And, amazingly (because I would have given up after a couple of years), he went to some great lengths to try to please her.

But, whatever he did it simply wasn’t good enough. V & I (for he had got over his thing by then) would gasp at the whole thing.

And now I have S, my colleague. Actually, in many ways, she reminds me of A. The ’show’ is the thing not the substance.

And, so, tomorrow, is her birthday. It’s quite an important one and it’s quite obvious that this is a milestone she doesn’t want to be at. For a few weeks there have been odd murmurings from her about how it’s going to be terrible. Her husband, she thought, was trying to pull off a surprise party. she was complaining about eh people he would probably invite and she spoke to him several times about who she didn’t want at the party.

Eventually, last week, it was agreed that they would go out for a meal - just the two of them. But she’s not happy with that either. I think that, secretly, she wanted a surprise party but was preparing herself to complain about was there and who wasn’t there.

And the present has been an issue too, apparently with him suggesting that she goes choose some shoes - which is obviously not good enough since shoes do not last forever - or even a couple of seasons!

But, then, she tells me this morning that her birthday is always like this and her husband is always wanting to do something and it’s always a disaster. Last year was some restaurant with some friends but it was a terrible restaurant and the food was not good, etc.

And her husband always wants to do something on her birthday because his is in the first week of August - and they are away at the seaside then, in France, where they have a house. And so, he can’t celebrate his birthday in the way he would like and tries to muscle in on hers. It’s been like this for over 20 years, she says.

Now he has some people coming round on Thursday night. Apparently she told him that she wasn’t cooking and he said that it was not necessary because they would have cake. She asked him who was invited and, apparently it is some friends of his and some people from the block of flats. So she asked if a certain person was coming and he said no and she said that they were the only people that she really got on with and if he was going to invite people from the block then she would invite them and he didn’t think this was a good idea and she said that she is having nothing to do with it and she was going to make it quite plain that this is NOT a birthday party and certainly NOT a birthday party for HER.

And there are times when she just needs a good slap to get her to come to her senses.

After all, what’s wrong with sharing the birthday with him? They will be in France when it’s his and this, being Italy, probably means he has always missed out on birthdays with friends because it’s always in the holidays - the same way as F did/does.

And I know that she will never be happy. everything will always be wrong - even if this year is worse because of the impending five-zero.

But, like I used to feel sorry for L, I feel sorry for him. In a way. To be honest, this should have been knocked on the head from the start. This kind of crap you don’t need when you’re trying to do your best for someone.

It just annoys me!

“I have a few extra things”.

Not a surprise, really. He doesn’t understand the meaning of the bookmarks I made out of torn-up paper, nor my notes that I have written in pencil. Nor do I in all cases.

He can’t really see the screen. He wants to see what I have done. He wants to check. That’s OK. Almost certainly I’ve missed some things. I wasn’t going to go through it all again to check - with the problems I had had.

However, the whole thing takes 3 hours. Half way through I ask if I can go out onto the balcony to have a cigarette. I can’t. There is a problem. !I will go downstairs”, I say, “I will be five minutes”.

“Would you like something to drink?”, he asks me. I say that I’ll have some water. “I have some very good juice”, he suggests. I say I’ll take the juice. I really don’t care - I just want a fag!

I come back. The juice, with ice (bless him) is on the counter where there is also one of those independent, 2 hob, electric deals. I notice there is no reall cooker nor oven. I remind myself that, however crap my cooker seems to be, I don’t live like this. For the first time, as I drink the quite extraordinarily ordinary juice I can look around his kitchen. Of course, I SAY kitchen. In fact, apart from the very small workspace that holds the two-ring hob, the sink, the drainer of the sink and the fridge - there is nothing else. Well, there are the shelves to the left of the workspace which are open and contain, well, little. Some olive oil is all I actually notice. But there are other foodstuffs, just not much. There is a bowl containing what I assume to be salad on the drainer, covered by a plate.

He is there, at the only window (french doors, really), with one open, trying to explain to me why I couldn’t use the balcony. There’s one of those mesh screen to keep out zanzare. It is broken and won’t open. He is getting it fixed soon, apparently.

We go through the book, page by page. Even he doesn’t always understand the notes he made and so we argue for a bit until he realises that I am right. It’s difficult.

F phones me half way through. He’s going home; where am I. I explain. We didn’t see each other last night. I’m hoping that he decides to go round to mine and take the dogs out or something - I’m going to be here a while.

There are several bins under the kitchen sink and drainer - none with lids - but I guess it’s not a problem if the flat is only really big enough for you!

We continue through the book. I become a little frustrated by the time it is all taking. We find I made one mistake or, rather, did not correct one mistake of his. Damn! But I don’t think he really noticed. It is not baking in the flat but it is warm. Still, we don’t dislike each other and, I think, he is rather liking me. after all, I have done quite a good job on it. He was impressed that I remembered some of his ways of notation. I explain that he had explained it to me once - and that is usually enough.

It’s a little like my experience of the English teaching world. There are so many really crap people out there giving, at best, mediocre lessons, dragging down the prices and leaving people with an unhappy taste in their mouth and assuming that this is what all English teachers are like. Or, maybe, I’ve got it wrong - maybe I just put too much work into it and people really want mediocre at best?

Still, he’ll complain about my work at some time, I’m sure. That’s what people seem to do these days. I’m glad I’m a bit older really. Wouldn’t want to be 19 in this world. I know it sounds a bit depressing to read but I don’t mean it to be like that. Just stating a fact.

I find myself getting really tired. The ‘having one cigarette’ making me want more. He offers me a sweet from a jar. Beady eyes all lit up as if with excitement. I decline. I only chew gum because I can’t smoke. Otherwise I wouldn’t really bother with sweets at all.

He has a list of the pages on which there are to be other alterations. He forgets to check as we go through and so keep going back. Then he remembers and then he forgets. I try my best to explain the problem with the pages. With all the additions and deletions, the pages are all screwed up. The problem is that he references pages within the book so I don’t know if they will be the same. He isn’t bothered.

We reach the end and he triumphantly turns the last, blank, page. He has no idea how I feel but it’s OK. He asks about money. I explain the hours. The extra job of putting it onto the USB key I am to do at home as I have to wait for some woman to send me the font (it uses special Greek letters and so you need a special Greek font). Then I am to come and deliver the key to him. Another hour out of my way.

However, he pays me immediately. OK, I think he trusts me. I think he could see what I had done - and I made some suggestions - English phrases, which he seemed to like.

However, it is past 10 by the time I get home. I make a cup of tea and F texts to say that he has a headache so isn’t coming and am I coming to him. Ummmm. No, I’m not. I’m tired; still have to take the dogs out; I’ve had enough for the evening.

Still, in some inexplicable way, I quite enjoyed the job I have done.

And it’s another skill to add to all the others. And I get paid.

I fall into bed after midnight. Tomorrow I will be exhausted but that is life and one has got to get on with it and make the best of it for there is no other. Just like F, really - even if he does annoy me by not being there - he’s been working hard too so I should not complain - there is no other.

Hmm. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought. Or, at least, it wasn’t the whole thing.

You may remember this. Well, I have, in the last few moments, finally finished it. It’s not because I was being slow or particularly lazy (although without a deadline, as I have mentioned in the past, I am far to much ‘I’ll do it later’ which, invariably, leads to a massive rush in the last few days, hours, seconds, whatever). No, with this job I had some real difficulties and it has taken me far too long.

However, as with all things, you learn stuff on the way. And these are some of the things I have learnt:

1. It was a really good idea to buy the laptop - especially as it was one with windows rather than an apple. It has almost ’saved my life’!

2. Word on an Apple Mac IS NOT the same as Microsoft Word. They are similar but not the same. Plus, if the version is in Italian it is too difficult.

3. It was very useful having a USB key - this has also ’saved my life’

4. It is important, when doing this kind of work, that the computers at home and at work are compatible - at least to a major degree.

5. Other people are not so bright either - they don’t know how to use functions in, for example, Word in exactly the same way that you don’t! Worse still, just like you, they use it and then stop using it randomly (the special function, that is). This is not really a problem until someone who doesn’t know where and when and how you used it comes to look at it.

6. Don’t have anything to do with computers or new technology!

Of course, it’s finished now. The final two things (one of which involved the special function) were done, this morning, at work. Actually, it’s not finished. In the physical book are loads of markers where questions have to be asked. The page numbers appear to be different (which will be a BIG problem as page numbers are referenced), one or two spelling, one or two bits of English (although checking the English is not really part of the job, as such). Still, I’ve phoned him and I go and see him tonight - when the job WILL be finished - except if he asks me to go through it again for the English!

But you have to know that on Sunday, I was there for hours, only to find that everything got mucked up (thanks Bill Gates for your product) and so I gave up about 9.30 p.m.

Then last night, I was rather pleased to find it wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been and I finished it about 8.30 p.m. to do the final two bits this morning.

Now I have to decide how much to charge, for it was a real pain in the ‘you know where’.

And, having finished it, I feel a great weight lifted off me. Maybe it wasn’t that customer after all - at least, not entirely!

I think I know what it is now.

I’ve been having this sick feeling in my stomach. There are too many things going on and too many decisions to make and I don’t like it. This feeling, I haven’t had much since V & I split in November, 2009. I thought it was all about the (mostly) small things that were nothing but annoying in my personal life.

I always felt much better when I got home and, in particular, when F was around - even if we were in our separate places, communicating through Facebook or something - or, not even communicating but him just being five minutes away.

And, then, it hit me as to why I feel this way. Yes, there are all those other annoying/frustrating things and, yes, when I get home and shut the door on the rest of the world, it’s better and everything seems to slide away. But the problem is actually work. Not the other work but the main work.

There’s a problem with a customer. I can’t solve it. I don’t know how. I mean, I know of one way, for certain. But I can’t do that. It’s not my decision to make. But they are upsetting everyone by their unreasonableness and their stupidity and that makes it very difficult to manage them as well as the people at work.

And, every time I look at my inbox, there’s always something. Some other request or unreasonable demand. And I really want to tell them to go and f*** themselves because they really deserve it - but it’s not my job to do that. I try to be strong and hard with them but, at the end of it all, as I said, it’s not my company and, so, not my decision.

And, even as I write this I feel that gnawing in my stomach, so I’m almost certain it is this that is the problem. And I really hate that it’s a work thing. I haven’t had this since England really (last November was for different reasons) and I thought that, working for someone else, I would not have this - so it’s doubly annoying.

And I can’t see the situation changing much before the end of July, at least. Damn them!

I am almost prepared. I should have done more, of course. I have copies of things and, probably, much more material than I really need. But, as always, I worry.

It’s my first English lesson for nearly 4 years. To be honest, I’ve almost forgotten all the names of the different tenses of verbs. But I’ll cope, I’m sure. After all, we don’t use the names when we learn English, as kids - and the names of them aren’t really important.

It will be at my house. This suits me fine. No trudging halfway across town or anything.

Anyway, this is the first lesson. We need to try out some things. I do the error correction stuff first. This one is a bit ‘finger in the air’ stuff since it’s the first lesson but I do remember stuff from our chat the other day. Then it’s to my favourite bit - the pronunciation. It’s a bit like a game. I go through the pronunciation of the symbols we shall use throughout the lessons. Then the words she’s supposed to fit with them. Then she fits the words to the symbols. We go through and discuss any errors. It is, of course, better in a class.

Then there are various other exercises and I have some listening stuff for her to do. Well, one listening exercise, anyway. We shall do it together, this time. It’s the first time, after all.

I am a little nervous but not so much considering I have been away from it for a bit. In a way, I shall quite enjoy it.

Well, finally, I’m on my way! Yessssssss!

I met my first student yesterday. Very sweet and, I think, it will be a lot of fun. Then, I was telling FfI and it might be that she can put some work my way, which would be very cool.

And I did some things I have been putting off; tidying stuff in the house and sorting some things, so I feel like I really did something this weekend, which also makes me happy.

Now, tonight, I must start digging out the stuff I need to teach English and start doing the photocopies and stuff.

Saturday night, we went to a ‘new’ restaurant - Piero & Pia. We sat outside as it was warm but with a nice breeze. I had goose liver pate with some warm, sweet bread, followed by rack of lamb (and for once, here, in Italy, it was cooked right - pink) with roasted potatoes and then a thick, creamy rice pudding with a sprinkling of sultanas and a light dusting of coconut for sweet. It was all delicious. With wine and water it was something around €50 per head. Not outrageous but not cheap either!

The only problem was at the end. F insisted on paying for it all. It’s just that I really can’t afford it right now but I’m annoyed at myself for being in a position where we can’t go ‘dutch’. This is one of the reasons for going back to English teaching. It will just give me the spending money I need and, hopefully, will just give me that bit extra for our holidays. I know F can afford it (the occasional meal, etc.) but that’s not really the point.

Ah, well - soon it will be different

“Looking forward to seeing you and the babies”

It hasn’t been that long.

“We are still in the restaurant, eating outside. I imagine our holidays - with the babies”

I take them out of order and, probably out of context. It’s my blog and I can do what I want.

In fact, it is only since 5.45 this morning when I got up and left him to wake up more slowly. But he was getting up at 6 anyway. He was going to the store near Venice.

It is hot and sunny there and cooler and more rainy here. But the rain will pass. And, for our holidays, I hope it is not like other years and remains hot and sunny, even if it is the third week in August - not the best week for being on holiday here, in my experience.

In fact, if you wanted my advice, holidays in the Northern part of Italy should be taken in July for the hottest, sunniest weather, with June and September cooler (but still hot) but more risky for rainy days. August, around the 15th, is almost guaranteed rain!

But I did notice that, in the message I put at the start, I was mentioned first. I also realised that he is, really, really looking forward to going away with the dogs (and me).

He has an idea for Tuscany (this is NOT the holiday). The problem is the dogs (or the babies, as you will). His parents place means that we sleep in two very small rooms and he is concerned because they go to bed early (and are up early - which all sounds good to me) but (and I more than agree with him) it’s not so easy with the dogs. The flat, which he shares with his brother, is currently being used by some cousin or something.

I don’t know how many times I have to say that I was only joking (even if the reality was that I was only half-joking). His plan is that he goes down on the Friday and I follow Saturday afternoon. Then I stay Saturday night and I (or, maybe we) come back on Sunday.

“I want you to come to C”, he says. And I really think he does. And I don’t want to take the dogs to his parents. at least, not until they know me better or something. Gentle introductions are required here, I think. Even if they will never know who I really am and are unlikely to with the language barrier.

However, he is thinking of doing this in the next couple of weeks. Let’s see. With him, I can’t get too excited lest it doesn’t happen. His mind is still unfathomable to me. I know he thinks about things a lot but what actually goes on in his head is just impossible and I can’t follow his logic (if there is any) (and that’s after my advice to Lola earlier this afternoon hahahaha).

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We expect things to work and we certainly take things for granted. Yesterday, in my head, I was looking forward to the shower I was going to have.

Except after nearly three hours, the three men went away, leaving me with a brand, spanking, new boiler …………. which didn’t work!

Another guy came today to fix it. It took him a while but he has done it. It was a blockage!!  As I said to someone at work, today.  I had one guy to carry things, one guy to fit the boiler and one guy to watch them do it.  Now, I could add - and one guy to make it actually work!

So I went to lie down for a bit and then I heard the sound of someone coming in. It was my cleaner guy. Since he had to leave early yesterday (no water) he was going to add hours next Wednesday. Instead, he chose to come and do the ironing today.

So, tonight I have a long, hot shower AND I have all my shirts ironed.

Cool, if you see what I mean.

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Today, I was recounting the story of how F & I met. The girl, A, thought it was a lovely story. Of course, my blog allows me to recount the circumstances in more detail than I would ever remember and for which I am grateful. She also wanted to know how it was to be gay; when did I know?; what about girls?, etc. I explained. I have nothing to hide. She was a bit shocked but then, in this country, there is an unawareness about it all that still surprises me. I wondered if this is what it is like in most of the world. I am truly grateful that I was born and brought up in the UK.

But back to the blog. I’m not sure that I always say all of the really important things but I think I was, mostly, faithful with my recounting the story, since it was written at the time. It makes me wonder, if, in a few years time, some of the essence of the whole thing will be gone from the blog. It’s not really a diary, is it? It’s more a collection of random thoughts and random happenings in my life. Some things are deliberately missed (for various reasons); some things omitted by accident.