Stuff and nonsense
Hello friend/family member/random (delete as appropriate)
I write this to you from a darkened room in Genova, and if you're in the UK I miss you as much you miss me, which I think should cover all the bases of indifference. I've been back here for 4 days, and while nothing remarkable has happened, I figured I'd try and get back into the swing of writing a load of shite and publishing it. It's taken me literally minutes to plan this out, so hopefully it's alright.
Working in reverse chronological order I'll fill you in on all things related to me. So, without further ado, let the narcissism begin!
Like I just said, I've been back in Genova for 4 days, and it's hot hot hot. So hot in fact, that I feel as dopey as a Cremonese player after half-time refreshments (getting the football references in early). As those with fine memories, or who've just read the previous blog will well be aware, I'm here and I'm homeless, as I rather cunningly moved out of my old flat before summer without a replacement in the wings. I figured that getting a new place would be like getting drunk: easy, inevitable, and stress-free. How wrong I was. Instead, at this time of year, it's like trying to find a drink after most pubs have closed. You walk about for ages sure to find somewhere, only to return home empty-handed and needing a pee. This is because 1) I've been drinking a lot of water to keep hydrated (did I tell those trapped in summer-skipping Scotland that it's hot here?), and 2) because everything's bloody closed. Considering that this is now my 4th year of living here, I should really know that the middle of August is deader than the Job Centre during rioting. But still, at least I'm not repeating mistakes: instead I'm creative enough to make new ones. Yay for progress!!!
Hopefully some of the agencies who rent flats will be open next week, but until then I'm staying with my friends Simone and Laura, who I'm so indebted to mere words can't describe. They've been fantastically accomodating seeing that I've now out-stayed my original length-of-time-on-their-sofa-projection. Words mean very little, so I'll try beer to say thanks instead. However, every cloud and all that means that I'm currently sweating on things in Sampierdarena, which is a new experience for me as I've never stayed in this 'hood before, and as Laura doesn't like to speak English, it's been a good crash-course back into Italian.
Scotland was it's usual mix of crap weather and work, but despite these things, I had a good time back over there. Seven weeks seems like a long time, and it is, but it fairly flew by. I guess that having good old friends, making new ones and an easy-enough job helped this a great deal. Also, this summer, I was significantly cheerier than I was compared to the last. On Tuesday I was a bit sad to be leaving it all behind, but I quickly forgot about you all, and now you're merely indistinct, blurry people-shapes in my mind.
Of course I jest, but one thing I now know not to jest about is sailing-safety. My chum, Mikey, in an effort to spend all of his money in new and increasingly baffling ways, bought himself a speedboat, which he, I, and fellow salty old sea dog, Crombie, took out for a spin a couple of weeks ago. We went through to the West Coast, which contrary to 2pac's utterances, is not the Best Coast. More loch's through there though. So, after an earlier aborted attempt to get going, we finally started to chug up the loch. Everything was going quite well, if a little slowly due to our combined weights and lots of unnecessary things in the boat, when we saw that we were taking on just the right amount of water to scuttle our brave maiden voyage. This was in fact the complete contrary of our intentions, so as Mikey steered up the loch and Crombie tried to position himself to balance the boat out, I bailled us out with a wee camping bowl. Jerome K. Jerome would be utterly ashamed of us. Everything worked out well, and we found a camp site, which was then engulfed by the high tide just as we were relaxing into a state incapable of dealing with such a problem. Heroically, we managed to wake up a bit and sort all of our stuff before we developed trench foot. Bear Grylls, Robinson Crusoe and Ray Mears look like rank amateurs compared to such grizzly survivalists as us. I even managed to drink a bottle of wine, and get this, without a cup! Like I say: grizzled.
Other things I learned during summer include, but are not exclusively:
Irish people are not funny just by being dint of being Irish.
To not say loch to Russians as this means something different in whatever mental language Russians speak in Russia.
Ryanair are thieving bastards and I will never fly with them again. (Ok, so this may not be news, but they confirmed previous suspicions.)
How to make Béarnaise sauce.
An old gay man in Musselburgh thinks I look like Michael Caine (this is not the first time that this has been said, but not a lot of people know that).
As you can see, even though I had nothing to say, I've managed to waste quite a lot of time and space. And I didn't even make any jokes about se(a)men, despite telling a nautical story!
Right, I smell food cooking, so either I'm getting an early flag that I'm about to have a stroke, or food is being cooked. If it's the latter, I'll speak at you all soonish.
Ciao for now!
:)
I write this to you from a darkened room in Genova, and if you're in the UK I miss you as much you miss me, which I think should cover all the bases of indifference. I've been back here for 4 days, and while nothing remarkable has happened, I figured I'd try and get back into the swing of writing a load of shite and publishing it. It's taken me literally minutes to plan this out, so hopefully it's alright.
Working in reverse chronological order I'll fill you in on all things related to me. So, without further ado, let the narcissism begin!
Like I just said, I've been back in Genova for 4 days, and it's hot hot hot. So hot in fact, that I feel as dopey as a Cremonese player after half-time refreshments (getting the football references in early). As those with fine memories, or who've just read the previous blog will well be aware, I'm here and I'm homeless, as I rather cunningly moved out of my old flat before summer without a replacement in the wings. I figured that getting a new place would be like getting drunk: easy, inevitable, and stress-free. How wrong I was. Instead, at this time of year, it's like trying to find a drink after most pubs have closed. You walk about for ages sure to find somewhere, only to return home empty-handed and needing a pee. This is because 1) I've been drinking a lot of water to keep hydrated (did I tell those trapped in summer-skipping Scotland that it's hot here?), and 2) because everything's bloody closed. Considering that this is now my 4th year of living here, I should really know that the middle of August is deader than the Job Centre during rioting. But still, at least I'm not repeating mistakes: instead I'm creative enough to make new ones. Yay for progress!!!
Hopefully some of the agencies who rent flats will be open next week, but until then I'm staying with my friends Simone and Laura, who I'm so indebted to mere words can't describe. They've been fantastically accomodating seeing that I've now out-stayed my original length-of-time-on-their-sofa-projection. Words mean very little, so I'll try beer to say thanks instead. However, every cloud and all that means that I'm currently sweating on things in Sampierdarena, which is a new experience for me as I've never stayed in this 'hood before, and as Laura doesn't like to speak English, it's been a good crash-course back into Italian.
Scotland was it's usual mix of crap weather and work, but despite these things, I had a good time back over there. Seven weeks seems like a long time, and it is, but it fairly flew by. I guess that having good old friends, making new ones and an easy-enough job helped this a great deal. Also, this summer, I was significantly cheerier than I was compared to the last. On Tuesday I was a bit sad to be leaving it all behind, but I quickly forgot about you all, and now you're merely indistinct, blurry people-shapes in my mind.
Of course I jest, but one thing I now know not to jest about is sailing-safety. My chum, Mikey, in an effort to spend all of his money in new and increasingly baffling ways, bought himself a speedboat, which he, I, and fellow salty old sea dog, Crombie, took out for a spin a couple of weeks ago. We went through to the West Coast, which contrary to 2pac's utterances, is not the Best Coast. More loch's through there though. So, after an earlier aborted attempt to get going, we finally started to chug up the loch. Everything was going quite well, if a little slowly due to our combined weights and lots of unnecessary things in the boat, when we saw that we were taking on just the right amount of water to scuttle our brave maiden voyage. This was in fact the complete contrary of our intentions, so as Mikey steered up the loch and Crombie tried to position himself to balance the boat out, I bailled us out with a wee camping bowl. Jerome K. Jerome would be utterly ashamed of us. Everything worked out well, and we found a camp site, which was then engulfed by the high tide just as we were relaxing into a state incapable of dealing with such a problem. Heroically, we managed to wake up a bit and sort all of our stuff before we developed trench foot. Bear Grylls, Robinson Crusoe and Ray Mears look like rank amateurs compared to such grizzly survivalists as us. I even managed to drink a bottle of wine, and get this, without a cup! Like I say: grizzled.
Other things I learned during summer include, but are not exclusively:
Irish people are not funny just by being dint of being Irish.
To not say loch to Russians as this means something different in whatever mental language Russians speak in Russia.
Ryanair are thieving bastards and I will never fly with them again. (Ok, so this may not be news, but they confirmed previous suspicions.)
How to make Béarnaise sauce.
An old gay man in Musselburgh thinks I look like Michael Caine (this is not the first time that this has been said, but not a lot of people know that).
As you can see, even though I had nothing to say, I've managed to waste quite a lot of time and space. And I didn't even make any jokes about se(a)men, despite telling a nautical story!
Right, I smell food cooking, so either I'm getting an early flag that I'm about to have a stroke, or food is being cooked. If it's the latter, I'll speak at you all soonish.
Ciao for now!
:)
posted by michael | 10:02
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