The End of An Era

After several years, my second housemate, Hitler's Nephew, has moved out. Although I didn't get along with him and we spent much of those years not speaking to each other, I miss him, after a fashion. At least he was interesting. The new guy, D1, is nice enough, but he's bland and dull. He doesn't have any interesting stories and isn't even quirky enough to provide the basis for anything funny for me to write about. At least I still have my other housemate, Nando, my racist Italian housemate.

Nando Blew Up Our Kitchen

Last night, I was relaxing in the lounge, watching TV. Beginning to get hunger pangs, I was waiting for Nando, my racist, Italian housemate, to finish in the kitchen, before starting to prepare my evening meal. Suddenly, I herd a loud popping noise, followed by Nando yelling, "shit!" in an Italian accent. "Are you alright," I shouted over the sound from the TV set. There was no reply. I yelled again, still nothing. Hitler's Nephew, my other housemate, looked up, but made no effort to ascertain what happened. Then Nando walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs, holding his face, but he wouldn't respond to my questions. Had an improvised explosive device (IED) gone off in the kitchen? Were we the victims of some terrorist attack? No. Nando had blown up his coffee pot.
I don't know what caused it to happen, but there were coffee grounds everywhere, in the kitchen. Eventually, Nando came back downstairs. He was fine. He'd merely gotten some coffee grounds in his eye. Fortunately, he'd not been standing closer to the pot when it blew and I wouldn't have to miss the rest of "the Family Guy," driving him to the hospital. I did have to wait an hour and a half for Nando to finish cleaning the kitchen, before I could have dinner. The top half of the pot had rocketed into the ceiling, chipping the plaster and leaving a big, brown, splash stain there. The ceiling would need to be repainted by someone, not me. Once I was assured that Nando wasn't injured, the whole thing did strike me as a bit funny. Who needs satellite TV when there's this kind of drama in the house? Eventually, I got to enjoy a steak dinner, with a jacket potato, sweetcorn, broccoli, and cauliflower. The steak was topped with fried onions and mushrooms, plus A1 steak sauce, imported from America. I washed it down with a cold, Becks beer. Life is great.

Easier Christmas Shopping

Yesterday, I awakened to find that my racist, Italian housemate, Nando, had the day off from work. I rushed downstairs in my robe, to see if he was going out. Sure enough, he was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed in house leaving attire and smoking a cigarette. In front of him was a cup of one of his coffee concoctions.
In response to my inquiry, he informed me that he was going into town, to do some shopping. I asked him if I might tag along, if I got dressed quickly. After cautioning me that he would be out shopping for a couple of hours, he agreed that I might accompany him. The advantage for me is that Nando has a car, so I would get free, door to door transport, between home and the town centre. I'm not sure what the advantage would be for Nando, but that was his problem, not mine.
As Nando pulled into a pay, multi-storey car park, it occurred to me that we could enjoy free parking in Camberley. When I suggested going to Camberley instead, Nando said he couldn't be bothered. He's willing to pay a couple of quid for parking, rather than make the effort of driving a couple of extra miles. His first errand was to go to the bank and pay a bill. There are so many ways that Nando's life is less convenient, as he refuses to get a computer and and internet access. So much of what he goes out to do, I can do over the net, from the comfort of my bedroom.
After the bank, our next stop was a card shop, where he started looking for Christmas cards. It was so crowded, I decided to wait for him outside, where I managed to find a bench to sit on. As I sat, I addressed a Christmas card to my mother, back in America. Most likely, this would be the only Christmas card I would send, this year. Having finished addressing the envelope, I read a book, as I continued waiting for my Italian friend. When he finally appeared, he told me not to get up, as he wanted to sit and have a cigarette.
After his nicotine break, Nando walked over to a store, diagonally across the pedestrianized square. This emporium boasted massive discounts, on large, red signs in all its windows. At the entrance, I told Nando that I was going to the post office. I might as well get my mother's card in the post, as soon as possible. While Nando had been in the card shop, I had tried to find my voucher for a free eye exam, from one of the high street, optical chains. Having my eye exam was one of the tasks I was hoping to complete on this trip. Sadly, I had been unable to find it. I would have to print off another one, so that was one task that would need to await another trip.
Arriving in the post office, I was shocked to discover a very long queue. This was a Thursday afternoon. Where were all these people coming from? Don't they have jobs? Also, why is it there are about nine windows in the post office, but they never seem to have more than three of them staffed, at any one time? One staff member was standing near the front of the queue, asking people if they wanted to apply for a Post Office credit card. Everyone was turning him down. Surely, he would have been better employed manning another one of the windows, so the line could be serviced quicker. As chance would have it, I ended up with the only female working the windows. She charged me £1.22 to send my card to my mother. That seemed a bit higher than I used to pay. Usually, it's under a Pound. At least she stamped and posted it for me. That's much better customer service than in the past, when they hand me some stamps and my envelope back, which I have to put in the post box myself.
Having escaped the postal ordeal, I then visited my bank, which is just across from the post office. I checked the exchange rate for Dollars. Then a young man in a bank uniform asked me if he could help. I asked what the current fee was for international money orders. It had been years since I had sent one to my mother. While he didn't know, he asked a beautiful, female member of staff and she informed me that the price was £1 more than it was the last time I used the service, over five years ago. It was still £5 cheaper than a wire transfer. The young man proceeded to engage me in conversation. He admitted that the bank was quiet and there was definitely a business slowdown, for them. We discussed the pros and cons of my getting another loan, next year, to finance a motor vehicle purchase. Then we talked about the economy and the futile attempts of politicians to control it.
Eventually, the young banker was needed, to do some actual work. I left to find Nando. Checking my mobile phone, I discovered that Nando had sent me a text, about twenty minutes earlier. At that time, he was heading to HMV. He could have been anywhere after twenty minutes, so I called him. When he answered, he informed me he was at W. H. Smith, so I told him I'd meet him there. After I caught up to him, we went to Boots. There, he purchased several items, including four of the same thing. He said that item was buy three, get one free. I suggested that his friends might get annoyed if he gave four of them the exact same Christmas present. Undeterred, he rationalized that none of the four knew each other and like he felt about most things, when it came to Christmas shopping, he couldn't be bothered. Since Nando didn't have a Boots loyalty card, he agreed that I could have the points from his purchase. As we were near the car, he decided to put the purchases he'd made so far in the car. I waited in the warmth of Princess Square shopping mall, reading my book.
When Nando returned, he led us to Argos. He informed me that he was looking for a CD rack, for his girlfriend's daughter. I suggested that he try Woolworth's, as they were closing down, or Bentall's, although the latter would not be cheap. I also suggested that he try the discount shop, run by the geezers in the turbans. As Bentall's was closest to our position, we went there first. Nando found some crystal wine glasses he wanted, there, but thought they were a bit pricey. Leaving the glasses, we went to Costa Coffee. Nando wanted a cup of coffee and a cigarette. He bought me a hot chocolate. I wonder if he'd forgotten that I now earn more than him? We sat outside, European style, where he could smoke. Over our refreshments, he informed me that the planned regeneration of Bracknell town centre had been put on hold, again, due to the credit crunch. We agreed that the town centre looked dismal and needed a regeneration. There seemed to be fewer Christmas lights, this year, and fewer children's rides.
Having refreshed, we made our way to Woolie's. I looked for bargains in the CD section, while Nando went off in search of a CD rack. I resisted the temptation to buy any CDs and Nando found nothing there he wanted. This might end up being the last time I step into a Woolworth's. The chain closed in America, over a decade ago. On to the discount store, run by the turban wearing geezers. After browsing awhile, Nando inquired. One of the non-turban wearing staff agreed to show us their selection of CD racks. The Italian picked out a wall mounted unit, which happened to be the cheapest.
With CD rack in hand, we returned to Bentall's, so Nando could purchase the wine glasses. While we waited to pay, Nando looked over the CD rack. Puzzled, he asked me how it stood up. "It's a wall mounted unit," I replied. "You screw it into the wall, just as it shows on the picture." It was then that I discovered that Nando hadn't realized that his purchase wasn't a free standing CD rack. He's not very good at this shopping stuff, I suppose. I suggested that he return to the discount shop and ask to exchange it for one he preferred. He had doubts about the willingness of the shopkeepers to exchange it, but I reassured him that, given that he wasn't asking for a refund and that he'd be purchasing a more expensive one, they'd be fine with it.
Back we went to the discount shop, which was in the opposite direction to the car. Several times, Nando expressed doubts about being able to exchange the CD rack, but each time I reassured him. Once we were at the store, the exchange went off without a hitch, as I expected. We headed back towards the car and I helped Nando carry his packages. So, I turned out to be some use to him, after all. In the car, I helped pay for the parking, as Nando didn't have enough change. I ended up covering about 35% of the cost, which was less than my hot chocolate cost.
As Nando drove us home, I reflected on what lessons could be learned about Christmas shopping, from our day out. Use the internet, whenever possible, so you don't have to gown into town, if it can be avoided. Be careful that what you buy is what you want, what you really, really want, like the Spice Girls. It then occurred to me that I had only looked at things to buy myself, during the outing. Christmas shopping is much easier if you only shop for yourself. They say it's better to give than to receive, so surely it's best to give AND receive. Buying gifts for yourself would ensure that. Nando experienced frustration, while I had an enjoyable day out. I spent a minimal amount of money, looked at several purchases, but didn't make them, and I even got my mother's Christmas card into the post. Santa Claus could take lessons from me. So, if your tempted to buy anything in this run-up to Christmas, don't. Have a cup of hot chocolate instead, preferably at your friend's expense. Have a merry Christmas and if no one gets you the gift you want, buy it yourself, during the after Christmas sales.

Nando Returns

Tonight, I was sitting in the lounge, watching TV, when I started wondering when Nando would return from his trip to Italy. He said he'd be gone for twelve days, I think. He left on October 28th, so...ummmm...he should be back any moment, I thought to myself. Maybe, even tonight. Within a few minutes of me thinking that, there was the sound of someone putting a key into the front door lock. Who would it be coming in? Hitler's Nephew? The Landlord? Nando?
I looked to my right, towards the door. Nando stepped through the threshold, with a large suitcase. He looked well rested. Even though I have enjoyed having undisputed control over the TV remote, while Nando's been away, I am pleased to see him return. "What are you doing here?" he asked, in heavily accented English.
"I live here," I responded.
"You're not going up to do the radio, this weekend?" he probed further.
"I got a good price on a Saturday train, this week," I explained. After hearing my explanation, Nando adopted the look of someone satisfied. I asked if he enjoyed his trip and how his mama, and sister, were. "Yes," "good," and "good," were the replies I got back. He proceeded to take his heavy suitcase upstairs, to his room. It would be full of food, as his mama always sends him back to England with loads of food. I don't think she realizes that they have invented supermarkets, here in England. She's more like Christopher Columbus' mother, sending him off to explore. "Christopho, taka dis meat wid you, fa da tripa. Youse neva know wat mite appen," I imagine Columbus' mother saying. Wait a minute...why would she speak English with an Italian accent? She wouldn't. Like Nando's mama, she'd only speak Italian.

Is Nando in Love?

As I was sitting in the lounge, tonight, eating dinner, Nando received a call on his mobile. It was the woman he's been seeing. Dare I say "his girlfriend?" So, of course, I listened to his side of the conversation. He was laying on the couch next to the one I was on, so it was almost impossible not to overhear. As I took fork fulls of beef and rice, I figured out that he was giving her directions to our house. He gave very detailed directions, mentioning almost every rock and tree between our street and the main road into town. Then it happened! Just before he hung up, he said, "love you." What????
That's something I'd never heard Nando say to a woman, before. I just had to say something about it, right? "So, it's 'love you,' now, is it?"
Nando grinned sheepishly. He excused it away as something he was saying in response to her saying it. So, was he just telling me that because he was embarrassed, or does he really not love this woman and is just telling her what she wants to hear? If he is just faking it, I feel bad for her. On the other hand, what if they get so serious that he moves in with her? What happens to me, then? I went through so much trouble to get Nando a place in this house. If he leaves, maybe I'll move to London. He seems so nonchalant about her, it's hard to imagine it's that serious.
To change the uncomfortable subject, I commented on what detailed instructions she seemed to require. Like many women, she's not strong in a directional sense. My evil ex-wife, the Black Queen, who was a sailor and a great helms woman, couldn't navigate her way out of a paper bag. Nando laughed at how unsure his girlfriend was over the directions. She would be driving over tomorrow. It will be her first time coming to our house. Sadly, I won't be here to meet her, as I will be in Withernsea for my weekly radio show.

Nando's Offer Fails

A couple of months ago, Nando offered to let me drive his car while he is away on holiday, in Italy, at the end of October. I was worried that he wouldn't be able to make good on his promise, when his car first broke down. Then he got someone to fix it and things started to look up. However, when I got back from Withernsea, this past weekend, it had stopped running again. I think he will scrap the car and buy another one, but he's not planning to do anything further about it till he gets back from Italy. That leaves me out in the cold. Things never seem to work out for me. First I get divorced, now this.

Nando Too!

Nando's car has broken down! Recently, he was left stranded. Someone told him he had a blown head gasket, which is usually an expensive repair, possibly more than he paid for the car. That leaves our household totally carless, at the moment. Hitler's Nephew doesn't own a car and Nando and I own ones that are inert. Hitler's Nephew does own a motorcycle, which he conned someone out of, but for some strange reason, he's put it in our back garden and doesn't use it. It's been there for over a month, since before he went on vacation. I suspect it's because he's too much of a weenie to ride it in the winter. I wish I could use it, but since I can't stand him and we are not speaking, that's not going to happen. In any case, Nando's not happy about not having a serviceable car. "I don't know how you do it," he said, commenting on the fact that I've gone four months on public transport. At this point, I don't have much choice.

Sharing Chocolate

My racist, Italian housemate, Nando, has been doing a lot for me, lately. Today, I was able to do something for him. I brought home three chocolate brownies, from work. After dinner, I asked Nando if he wanted to join me for a brownie. I happen to know Nando loves chocolate, so I wasn't surprised when he accepted. As I was dishing them out, I decided to give Nando one and a half, while taking one and a half for myself. In this way, we used up all three brownies and avoided that awkward, future situation where I would have one for myself and none to give him.
I brought Nando's on a plate, to him. As I was back in the kitchen, getting my serving, Nando called out to me, "this seems like more than one." I chuckled to myself. Was he complaining? I explained that as I had three, I decided to split the entire amount in half. I think Nando wanted to make sure it was all for him, before he scoffed it all down, just in case I had put both of ours on one plate. Although not helping either of us in our diets, the chewie, chocolaty brownies tasted so good. Sometimes, even in the autumn, it's good to indulge yourself.

Nando Gives Me Clothes

Yesterday, when I got home from work, Nando, my racist, Italian housemate, was sitting in the lounge. When I walked in, there was a small pile of neatly folded clothes, sitting on the sofa I usually sit on. Nando told me to look through the pile and if there are any items I want, I can have them. Otherwise, he's going to get rid of them.
Nando's style of dress is a bit different to mine. He wears a lot of T-shirts and pull-over tops. I tend to prefer button down shirts. Still, I'm not one to turn down the chance for free stuff. I was concerned because I think Nando is a little smaller than I am. At first, none of the things I look at fit me. Finally, I started to find items which are my size. I ended up with a couple of pull-over tops and a light-weight jacket. I have wanted a light jacket all summer, so I'd have something to wear on summer evenings, when it gets a little chilly. Innocently, Nando admits that the reason he wants to get rid of these clothes is that they don't fit him anymore. It must be the weight he's put on. His loss is my gain, or vise-versa.

On My Way

Leaving my preparation for my radio show till the day I left for Withernsea was probably not a good idea. When I got home from my day job, last night, I was tired and yet I had, seemingly, a million things to do. Originally, I had planned on taking a nap after work. That plan fell by the wayside. Instead, I was scrambling to email some songs I wanted to play, to the station. I was also listening to the station over the internet. It was the big re-launch and the first time I had he chance to hear it. The station manager was on the air.
For some reason, the audio files were extremely slow to load, when I was emailing them. It was taking too long! I still wanted to shower and have dinner, before catching my train, at 8:20PM. I also needed to place all my bets for the weekend, which involved getting the picks from Nando. After emailing two songs, I gave up. It was just taking too long. Having showered, I went downstairs to take my laundry off the line. Then Nando asked me to put a bet on, for him, on football. I didn't have time for it, if I was going to catch the bus to the train station. Thinking on my feet, I offered to do it, if Nando drove me to the train station, in his car. He agreed. That gave me enough extra time to have a quick meal.
I just managed to get Nando's bet placed and leave the house, with less than ten minutes till my train. Nando drives much slower than I do and as I sat in the passenger seat of his car, I found myself willing him to go faster. I literally just made it to the station platform as my train arrived. Once on board, I felt relaxed. All of a sudden, it hit me. In all the rushing, I had left some discs home I wanted for my show. Too late. It would have to wait for next time. Thus began a 12 hour journey, consisting of five trains and a bus, to get to Seaside Radio. I didn't mind. I was just excited to be back on radio, after 27 years and 9 months.

A Restful Evening

Finally, I had a restful night in. Last night, I stayed home for the first night this week. I hadn't seen Nando for days, as I go to work before he gets up and I've been coming home after he goes to bed. My racist, Italian housemate may be a decade younger than me, but he doesn't have my energy. My plan was to watch a little TV with him, then get some things ready for the big debut of my radio show, this weekend. I ended up falling asleep in front of the TV. Oh well, the preparation would have to wait for another day. I just needed sleep.

Spiders, Man

This morning, I killed another spider in my bath tub. This is the third, big spider I have killed in the tub, over the past ten days, and the second in the past 24 hours. Nando reported killing one in the bathroom, as well. Where are they all coming from? There's a popular saying, in this part of England, that spiders come in the house in September. I just thought it was some nonsense that people say, like an old wives' tale, or something. I have definitely done battle with more spiders this month, than the entire summer, combined.
I don't like spiders. Neither does Nando. I am not afraid of them to the degree that Nando is afraid of moths. For example, there's this moderately sized one who's taken up residence in the upper left corner of my room, above the computer. So long as he stays out of my way, I've been content to let him stay there, over the past week, since I noticed him. There's another, long legged, delicate one, who's been hanging around in the upper left corner of the bathroom, above the tub. We eye each other up every morning, when I take a shower. I have one of those shower/bath combinations, where the shower sprays down into the tub. This one has survived and I can stand in the shower, naked, while he moves around, so long as he stays out of the way.
When I was a kid, I was very afraid of spiders. Even more so, worms. It seems like a lot of humans dislike wiggly, creepy, crawly things. Nando particularly hates spiders when they walk across the floor. There's something about the way they move that seems wrong, somehow. The three I have killed, recently, have been big and have been in my tub. I don't want to step into the tub to take a shower and have that big hairy mother start crawling over my feet. Some people try to catch and release spiders. The heck with that! There seems to be plenty around, so it's not like they are an endangered species, or something. My policy is, if I see one outside, I usually leave them be, but if they come into my house, uninvited, they are subject to death. And yet, Spiderman is one of my favorite superheros. Strange, huh?

Nando Feeds Me

The other day, Nando came home from work and started cooking. I was in the lounge, watching TV. Nando told me he was making homemade lasagna and asked if I wanted some. Free, homemade lasagna? Sure! I didn't have to lift a finger. I just sat back and continued watching television. In due course, dinner was ready. What a treat. Freshly made lasagna. What with Nando being Italian and all, I would expect his lasagna to really be good. It tasted good to me, but then I don't think I have that discerning a palate. So what's with Nando, lately? First he gives me two T-shirts, now he makes me dinner. Actually, I suspect it had more to do with him making more than he could eat himself. He even gave me seconds.

Mothman Fears

One night last week, my racist, Italian housemate, Nando, and I were watching TV together in the lounge. It being a warm night, Nando had opened the back window at my request. All of a sudden, a moth flew in the window and began that erratic flying pattern they do, spiraling towards the light in the corner. Then Nando jerked up from his reclining position, saying, "I hate those bloody things." I watched all this with casual amusement.
"Nando," I said, "you're not afraid of moths, are you?"
"I can't stand them," he replied, all the while ducking and diving in time to the little winged creature's movements. I started laughing out loud at this. "I can handle spiders and snakes, but I can't take these things flying at you. Hurry up and kill it!" he stated.
As if it understood Nando's violent intentions, the moth disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. "Nando, I could understand being afraid of snakes, or spiders, because they could be poisonous, and could kill you," I explained, "but a moth can't do you any harm. It's a tiny, little thing and very delicate."
"I can't stand the way they fly around" he replied.
"Are you afraid of butterflies, too?" I asked.
"Butterflies don't bother me," Nando said. There doesn't seem to be that much difference between moths and butterflies, to me. Nando explained that butterflies don't fly at you and fly slower. I rolled my eyes at such petty differences. If someone wanted to torture Nando, all the torturer would have to do is lock Nando in a room with a dozen moths and an electric light. Nando looks like he's not afraid of anything. He's normally quite calm and not easily upset. Who'd have thought that something as small and insubstantial as a moth would terrify him?
I went up to bed, leaving Nando sitting anxiously in the lounge, looking this way and that, least the moth return. He said he'd have to kill it before he went to bed. As I left, Nando asked me to kill the flying creature, if I should run into it on my journey upstairs. I couldn't be bothered to even notice if I passed the moth, or not. The next day, Nando reported to me that said moth had indeed met his demise, at Nando's hands. He'd tracked it down before gong to bed, himself. Nando won that victory and it remains until the next little moth creature finds its way into the house. It might be fun to see what Nando would do if there were two months in the room, at the same time.

Nando's Given Me a Gift

A few days ago, Nando came home from work late in the evening. I think it had been a couple of days since we'd seen each other. I usually leave the house before he does, in the mornings, and usually return after him. Sometimes, I come home so late, he's already gone upstairs to bed. Nando usually occupies one of four locations in the house. The toilet, his bed, eating at the kitchen table, or laying on the sofa watching TV. If an assassin wanted to kill Nando, all he'd have to do is stake out one of those locations and Nando would turn up, sooner or later. Out of the four, by far the most common one is on the sofa. Nando could be the poster boy for couch potatoes.
On this occasion, Nando says he has something for me, then rushes upstairs. That alone is quite unusual. I tend to be a short-term pessimist and a long-term optimist. Thus, I expect things to go wrong in the immediate future, but work out in the long run. This leads me to experience apprehension, while Nando is upstairs. What's he got for me? Has someone dropped off court papers, suing me, and he's answered the door? Could it be another evil box? When he returns downstairs, it turns out to be two T-shirts. He found some publicity shirts at work, promoting some brands of beer, and brought two home for me. Nando's also brought a couple for himself, as he's not completely selfless, thank goodness.
Free stuff! Anyone who knows me knows I love free stuff. Now I don't have to go out and buy two T-shirts. I can't remember Nando ever giving me a gift before that wasn't food or drink. He said he found a couple of boxes of these T-shirts at work. One was for Fosters and the other Carlsburg. He's kept two of one brand for himself and gave me two of the other brand. Why didn't he mix it up and give us each one from each brand? Come to think of it, why did he only bring me two? I wish he'd brought me some sports socks. Most of mine have holes in them. Or a car. Why hasn't he brought me a car? Am I getting carried away with this?

A Holiday of Sorts

In America, today is Labor Day. It's the last three day weekend of the summer, there and the symbolic end of summer. Here in the UK, we had our end of summer, long weekend, a week ago. Even though summer officially ends around the 22 of September, or something like that, the last long weekend is the psychological end. This week, kids go back to school. Over the weekend, I noticed that it's getting dark noticeably earlier. It's starting to feel autumnish.
Whew I was a kid, going back to school seemed like the end of summer. In the newspapers, it was reported that meteorologists are predicting warmer temperatures, later this week. The newspapers lamented that this warm spell is a cruel twist of fate for the returning students. That's one area where being older has it's advantages. The opening of the new school term has no affect on me. Being that I work, nothing changes.
I did end up starting a holiday of sorts, today. Nando informed me that Hitler's Nephew is away for a whole month. Apparently, the old git has gone back to Austria, for a month off. A whole month! No I do feel like celebrating.

Nando Has a Second Date

After my racist, Italian housemate, Nando's blind date, on Tuesday, I asked him what the woman was like. He showed me a picture of her. I think she looks nice and very sweet. He and I talked about her and I got the impression he wasn't thrilled with her. He doesn't think she's good looking enough. Although they had agreed to a second date, I'm not holding out a lot of hope that they will last as a couple. I feel sorry for her, as Nando is a very closed person and somewhat of an emotional desert.
Their second date was Saturday evening. Nando didn't get home until almost midnight. I was still up when he came in, so I asked him how it went. He said she looked much better, this time. Okay, that's a positive step. They went out to dinner and to a pub. During dinner, she was telling Nando about the other men she has been introduced to, by the dating agency. Apparently, one of them was "black." She said something like, "I'm not a racist, but I don't know why they are introducing me to a black man. I stated in my profile that I am looking for white." A smiling Nando told her it's alright to be racist. Is it just me, or does it sound like he's not exactly going to bring out the best in this woman?

Nando's Blind Date

Two nights ago, Nando, my racist, Italian housemate, asked me how easy is it to drive to Guildford? "Pretty easy, if you have a car," I replied. If you ask me a question, you have a 90 percent chance of getting a quip, joke, pun, or sarcastic answer. Nando elaborated, saying that he needed to go somewhere near Guildford, but not exactly in Guildford. He then asked if I knew where some place was. With his accent, it sounded like he said, "Cran Lake." It doesn't ring any bells, but I offer to look it up on the internet for him.
Curious, I asked him why he needed to go there. Nando then tells me he has a date and is supposed to meet the woman there. Recently, Nando had been seeing this married woman who works at the golf complex where he's a chef. I asked him if it was that same, married woman he's been seeing. He surprised me by shaking his head, "no." "So, who's this woman you're meeting?" I asked. His reply shocked me. Nando explained that he has registered with a matchmaking agency and they have introduced him to this woman.
This seems totally unlike Nando. I've known Nando for over four years, now. I have known him to date before, but for the past two years, he's seemed to be in a bit of a slump. He usually can't be bothered to go out, or even to move from the sofa he lays on, watching TV each night. The fling with the married woman is the only action he's had, lately. As he met her at work, he didn't have to go out of his way and to hear him tell it, she practically threw herself at him, so not much effort was required. Nando is so cynical, I would have thought he'd say something like, "dating agencies are for loser's," or something like that, if someone suggested he use one. He's been registered with the agency for a month and this is his first date. A little further enquiry revealed that he's never met this woman before. It's a blind date. He's seen a picture of her, but she hasn't seen a picture of him. Personally, I am surprised she's willing to meet him, sight unseen. How desperate can this bird be?
As I was on my way upstairs, I asked Nando the name of the place he's going to, again. This time, he spells it and I realize that he's been saying, "Cranleigh" all along. That does sound familiar and I fully intended to look up directions for him, on the internet. Nando doesn't have a computer of his own. Once I got upstairs, I got totally involved in blogging for you lot and forgot about the directions.

Yesterday, when I arrived home from my commercial shoot, I realized that I had gone to bed with getting Nando the directions to Cranleigh. I knew his date was supposed to be yesterday, but I presumed it was at night. I appologized to Nando and offered to get him the directions immediately. I had come home from the shoot fairly early, so I figured Nando hadn't gone yet, as he was home and casually dressed. "I've already been," he informed me. After I apologized again, for not remembering to get him the directions, he tells me it was no problem. His date had sent him the directions, by text.
Immediately, I wanted to know how things went. Nando told me he was off work yesterday, so they met during the day. He's not very talkative at the best of times, so I keep asking questions as he gives me brief answers. "What's she like?" I asked.
"She's okay," Nando replies, focusing on watching TV.
"Is she good looking?"
"She's okay," he said, again.
Did you two agree to see each other again?"
"Yeah," Nando says, matter-of-factly. I was dying for more detail, but grew tired if the effort it was taking to get tiny bits of information. Nando did tell me that he's getting older and he thinks it's time he got involved with someone of the opposite sex. I am fascinated about the kind of woman who'd be satisfied with Nando's minimalist attitude toward relationships. He comes across as very flat, emotionally, and not as passionate about women as I am. I wonder if I will get to meet this mystery woman, one day?

Sold Out

Tonight, I acted on my plan to phone about a few cars I found in the weekly "Ad Trader." Hitler's Nephew has started buying the paper, so I looked at it after he went to bed, last night. It saves me paying for it and, in a way, I get even with him for using my plates. The latest edition came out yesterday, so I was following up as early as I could. I called about the car that was my first choice on the list. A nice sounding, older, woman's voice politely informed me that it was sold already. Drat! I thanked her and hung up. Why did I thank her, she gave me bad news? I dialed my second choice. Some guy answered. "It's sold," he said. Double drat!! Even though I don't know why I am doing it, I thanked him too and hung up.
What's going on? Why is it all the cars I am interested in seem to be sold out before I get a chance at them? I dialed my third choice. This time, the phone just rang and rang, but wasn't answered. Frustrated, I went downstairs and told Nando what happened. He told me the weekly, free paper we get which comes on Thursday had arrived. I looked through the classifieds in it. Not one ad within my budget. Looks like I am still on the bus, for now. At least Nando and I get to share a couple of cold beers. Being foreigners, Nando and I haven't acquired the British taste for room temperature beer. We like ours ice cold. As I knock back a cold Becks, I think about cars. Somewhere out there is a car for me.

A Walk in the Sun

Both Nando and I were off, today. We both spent most of the day vegging out. I spent a lot of time in front of the TV. Hitler's Nephew went out about midday, so it was just me and Nando. Nando got up late and came downstairs about three hours after I did. Eventually, I turned the remote controls over to him and came upstairs to write. Between the bus travel and going away last weekend, I had fallen way behind on blogging, this week. I never got around to posting a new Artist of the Week. That was partially due to the fact that my first choice's Myspace page seemed never to load correctly, so I couldn't add their song. Oh well, the world will survive.
After spending a couple of hours catching up on my blog, I had a shower and dressed to go out. I checked with Nando, to see if he was going out. If he was, I could catch a ride with him, but no, he stayed home all day and night. By the time I got myself together, the local bus service had stopped running. I resigned myself to walking to my local Sainsbury's supermarket. I wanted to buy some lettuce and salad dressing, as I was out of both. I left the house a few minutes past 7 o'clock. At these northern latitudes, it's still daylight at that time, in the summer. As I walked up the street, I noticed how beautiful the day was. Long gone were the rain showers of July. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was almost a shame that Nando was missing it.
During my walk to the store and back, I saw children playing, people walking their dogs, a man and two girls on bicycles. My mobile beeped with a text message. It was from Nando. He wanted me to bring him back some coffee, from the store. Other than that, I was undisturbed. It took me just short of an hour to walk to Sainsbury's, shop, and come back. When I got home, Nando was still on the middle couch, unmoved. Despite my successful trip to the supermarket, I still felt like I didn't do much, today. As a treat, I had bought some big, soft, chocolate chip cookies, at the store. They were marked down to one-fifth their normal price, as they had reached their sell-by date. Nando and I shared half the cookies, as well as a couple of bottles of my free beer stash, while watching TV. All in all, it was a lazy, summer day. Not very productive, but enjoyable all the same.