It is Tuesday, two days before I return to Brazil. I do not know what to expect; it has been seven months since I was there. Will everything be the same, or have there been changes? Or have I changed during this time?

I also have the Julie factor in the equation!

Am I star-struck like a teenager, just as my mother mentioned one night, or is it merely another girlfriend relationship that will peter out after a while, or is it something that will flourish, grow, and become stronger?

Am I emotionally immature in relationships, always searching for someone, and when I do find someone, I look for faults in the relationship and want to run away from it?

Is it really time for me to consider settling down and getting married, or living with someone, or having something serious with someone? Because the truth is, I have never been married, and at 60, it would be a new experience.

Cibele and I lived together for about five years, and Nalva for almost ten, but we were never married. I believe this relates to my parents’ divorce and, in particular, my mother as a female figure in my life, who serves as a negative example for me. I may have a trauma linked to her, a negative image I can’t shake or forget, which causes me to project my mother’s failures onto other women in my life.

Or do I look for women who are not right for me to confirm that they are like my mother, or do I see failures as if they were the same as my mother, as a form of projection to confirm that they resemble her and justify my lack of commitment.

These are the key words: commitment, to dedicate myself to one woman no matter what, obviously without losing my own personality and identity, the right person, the right woman who loves and supports me as a woman should, as I would reciprocate, to dedicate myself to her and a relationship that is balanced, equal, fulfilling, and healthy for both.

Julie and I had a quick lunch today at a local fun pub we enjoy. The barmen are very friendly; one of them, a Scotsman like Jim, has a strong Scots accent that sometimes makes it hard to understand exactly what he’s saying. You get the gist of his meaning, the subject, and we nod in agreement, but it can be quite difficult to understand.

Julie and I were talking when I asked her about Sarah, my mother’s neighbour who has known my mother for more than 20 years. Sarah went into the café, Julie recognised her, and asked if she was Sarah, as I had mentioned her to Julie before.

She confirmed, and Sarah asked Julie if she was the lady with the cockapoo, Austin, who jumps out of the car whenever Julie comes to collect me. Sarah’s husband works with dogs, particularly cockapoos, so they started talking extensively about their shared interests, before moving on to my mother.

Julie asked Sarah about my mother because I didn’t want Julie to have any contact with her during my stay. On the few occasions my mother had visited the café before I went to England and met Julie, she didn’t like her and made her feelings quite clear. I have, from the beginning, tried to protect Julie from my mother and any potentially complicated situation.

Sarah, after some coaxing from Julie, replied that my mother was a dragon, not a very nice person, and highly opinionated, always barging in and giving her opinion without considering others’ feelings, while being quite aggressive at the same time.

I insisted on Julie telling me all that Sarah had said, which Julie was embarrassed to say, but after telling me, I had a sense of relief. I felt relieved knowing that somebody else, who I consider to be a good person, has the same impression and feeling as me, that it is not just me who is crazy.

I can live my life knowing that when I was young, I was not such a terrible child that my mother blames or insinuates I am, and for all the bad things that happened at home. What I understand is that parents are meant to love, teach, and give direction to their children. My brother and I never received this.

Today, I bought more crypto!

In bed at midnight.

In bed by 11:00 p.m.

Thank you.

Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.

Richard

Photos by Richard George Photography

The post Tuesday, the 4th of June 2024: “Mixing Reflections With Gossip”!!! first appeared on The Long Gringo.

It is the middle of the week, and I’m already tired. It’s been a marathon of a week, my birthday week, and it’s still going on.

On Saturday, we visited Stourport and Bewdley with Austin and had lunch at the Hop Pole pub, which was decent but not outstanding. Later, Julie told me she was not very impressed with the fettuccine she had ordered. I had thought she had ordered poorly, as England is not exactly the centre of Italian colonisation and cuisine. But I didn’t say anything at the time.

On Sunday, we didn’t see each other during the day; in the evening, we went to The Old Wharf for a drink, and we loved it. It was quiet and intimate. We made friends with Dan, the barman, and the special couple, Ian and Hailey.

Julie loved it!

On Monday, it was my birthday. I wanted to go out for lunch with my mother, but she wasn’t feeling well. She also tried to negotiate the evening, but I told her they had plans, which she did not like. Julie and I ended up at The Island Pool pub and restaurant, which, although not the most sophisticated place, was also not the roughest. The food was good, and we were the last to leave, which was a nice touch. We spent about an hour smooching in the car park, which was very enjoyable and memorable.

Yesterday, Tuesday, was a bit miserable, with rain at times. Since it was a bank holiday in Rio, I had very few classes, which gave me an opportunity to do something special again with Julie. We took a long walk from The Old Wharf, probably our favourite spot in the whole world at the moment. We strolled along the canal to The Fish, where we visited the Ruskin Glass Centre, enjoyed a coffee, and chatted with the natives.

After leaving, we walked up to Wollaston, then back to Stourbridge, and along Enville Street. We were relatively close to The Old Wharf and the car, but Julie suggested ’Cup’, a new trendy cafe in Coventry Street. The place was elegant, and spending an hour there was sublime. All this in my birthday week, and it still hasn’t finished yet.

I am gradually resuming my exercise routine, so when I got up this morning, I did a light workout, prepared and posted a blog, and gave a class. I don’t have many classes on Wednesday mornings, but I do have some in the late afternoon. I had promised my mum that we would have lunch at The Pavilion, the old Dunlop tyre factory that is now a club with a theatre and a restaurant. The plan was to go to The West Brom building society, which is always a mystery and can be stressful, and then go for lunch at The Pavilion on the other side of Wolverhampton.

My mother and I left home and went to Kingswinford. My mother parked her car and waited while I went to The West Brom to withdraw her money. When I entered, no one was in front of me. I went to the counter, and the attendant attended to me. I gave her the deposit book, and she entered the information on her computer.

Then, she told me there was a problem. She said she would have to speak with the manageress, a middle-aged woman, impeccably dressed with the posture and attitude of someone who thinks they are better and more important than they really are.

In 30 seconds, she stormed out of a side meeting room, essentially telling me I was not welcome and that I could only withdraw my mother’s money at the Stourbridge branch. I, non-reactive as cool as a cucumber, said nothing, only ok; actions often speak louder than words, especially through indifference.

When I returned to the car, my mother thought I was joking when I told her they had refused to let me withdraw her money. More stress, but it’s life, and we carried on to The Pavilion. Now, my mother is driving at a snail’s pace because she cannot see very well ahead. I get the impression her eyesight is worsening rapidly.

I paid for the lunch with my card because my mother didn’t have any money, and even if she did, I would have paid.

What caught my attention about the place was the entrance. A beautiful yet simple entrance with lots of greenery and a driveway lined with trees leading to the main building and car park. Outside the main gates, in the street, probably one of the roughest, greyest, and ugliest neighbourhoods of Wolverhampton, but inside it was a haven of tranquillity, silence, and greenery, an oasis amid all the grey of urban Wolverhampton.

What also caught my attention was the extreme politeness of the barmen when ordering food—exceptionally well-trained, helpful, and nicer than average. The food, essentially glorified pub food, was decent. The place itself was a large clubroom with many tables and chairs, featuring a stage at one end for shows and cabarets, and a massive bar at the opposite end.

We sat on a raised ledge in front of full-length windows. Now that it was quite sunny, my mother said she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her back through the windows. Eventually, with the destination being home, Julie finished work around 2:00 p.m. It was close, but if my mother got a move on, perhaps I could meet Julie for a coffee or a quick kiss before I start work.

Once again, my mother was driving at a snail’s pace. I had told her I wanted her to drop me off at The Green in the village on the way back. I think she deliberately went even slower. I wouldn’t have put it past her. On the return journey, my mother decided to change the route and go around some small nearby villages that are slightly off the main track. I was holding myself back to avoid making things worse; if she was trying to provoke me, she was doing a good job, but I stayed quiet because I was better.

We passed through Wombourne, a beautiful little English village with the cricket club and green in the centre. If I stayed in England, I could live there without any problem. From Wombourne, it connected to Swindon, another lovely little village famous for its pubs,

The Old Bush and The Green Man. I have been there a couple of times with both my mother and Julie. We didn’t stop, and now, after the round trip, we were arriving in Kingswinford and then Wordsley. It was close, so I asked my mother to leave me on the corner near the green, so I would just need to walk up.

She asked me what I was planning to do, and I told her I was going to write and after see Luke; if I said I was going to see Julie, there would likely be some confusion or retaliation later.

I got out of the car and walked up to Wordsley Green. I turned towards the café where Julie works, and as I was entering, Diane, her colleague, was near the door. She told me that Julie had just gone, but she thinks she’s in the pet shop next door. I went next door, and she was there at the counter buying something for Austin.

She looked happy to see me. When we left the shop, we kissed, and she said that if I wanted, we could have a coffee. She mentioned she would like it very much, but not at the café where she worked. I had to visit the chemist to buy some cough mixture, so we arranged to meet at her car. When I arrived, we couldn’t decide where to go, but eventually, we decided on The Lawnswood pub, a popular, lively, fun pub just half a mile away.

We pulled out of the car park and descended to the main road. Just as we were going along the main road, my mother was driving along in the opposite direction. How crazy is that? Clearly, my mother was driving around instead of going straight home to see exactly who I was with! Again, how fucked up is that?

I couldn’t believe what had just happened; I was genuinely stunned. My mother was checking on me, an 82-year-old woman. As a mother, she couldn’t just go home; she had to check up on her own son to see what he was doing.

• 0 Emotional intelligence!

• 0 Self-control!

• 0 Empathy!

• 0 Respect!

We went to The Lawnswood and ordered two cappuccinos, which arrived lukewarm, but we didn’t really mind. We were too stunned by what had happened. The barman who served us was from Ireland; I discovered this after asking him about his strong accent. It reminded me of my wild Irish friends in Rio from the past!

We had our coffees, talked a little, kissed a little, laughed a little, and eventually we had to leave. Julie kindly dropped me off, and I had classes until late in the evening.

In bed by midnight.

Thank you.

Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.

Richard

Photos by Richard George Photography

The post Wednesday, the 24th of April 2024: “A Birthday Week of Memories and Mundanities”!!! first appeared on The Long Gringo.

In Brazil, it is the eve of Carnival. What I’ve heard from my pupils is that it is very hot and stuffy in Rio. Here in the middle of England, it is reasonably cold, wet, and damp but bearable.

There was supposed to be snow, but it never came, and there is supposed to be a second wave of snow, but I don’t think it will hit this region of the country. What I have noticed is that the weather in England is easing up; it is certainly not as cold as when I arrived at the end of November last year. At that time, it was -2 and now it is a boiling 9°.

The last time I walked was last weekend, and it was cold, with snow expected. I haven’t been out for a long walk for almost a week, and I’m missing it. Exercise and the series with elastic bands are good, but they don’t replace walking. Hopefully, tomorrow I will be able to get out and breathe in some cold, fresh air, giving my brain vital oxygen and natural therapy.

I did, however, go shopping for my mother to resolve a money issue. My mother didn’t have a £5 note to pay the cleaner from a couple of days before, and instead of giving the girl a £10 note and deducting the extra £5 the next time she comes to clean, she preferred not to pay the girl, saying that she would get a £5 note later, pay her afterwards but still owed her £5.

As the next day was raining too much to go out, my mother couldn’t get a £5 note, which consequently caused a lot of stress when the girl called my mother asking for the money. My mother became upset with the situation, which escalated into a lot of bad feelings that I had to resolve.

The lesson learned was that if she had paid an extra £5 and arranged to deduct it the next time, it would have avoided a lot of stress. To pay £5 in advance and escape, relieving yourself of the stress and bad feeling, is a small price to pay compared to the punishment you would face if you didn’t try to facilitate the situation and, more importantly, for your own sake.

During my mother’s mental meltdown, she started bringing up past events involving the girl and her family to justify her position and to convince herself more than me that she was right. It was more important for my mother to convince herself that she was right. Why are people so obsessed with being right instead of just feeling right and having a clear conscience? Perhaps it’s because, deep down, they sense they aren’t.

I prefer to be happy and do what is best for both, and without judgement!!!

So like a good loyal trooper, I went out into the rain, got the shopping, got a £5 note for my mother, and when I got back home, I put the total amount of money in an envelope and delivered it to the next-door neighbours’ house, which is where the girl’s boyfriend lives.

The instructions were for me to deliver to the boyfriend’s parents. When I arrived, the father, a Jamaican man, was already outside in front of the door, leisurely drinking a beer with a friend, which I found quite funny. He received me very well and I gave him the envelope, telling him to give it to Beth, his son’s girlfriend and our cleaner when possible.

It was clear to me that the family are very simple but also very good people. My mother, because of the situation, began to put them down when I got back. My mother was sitting in the back living room, and I told her that I was very well received, that they are straightforward people, far from being bad, and that they are clearly good. I also told her that she, my mother, should give them some slack. I think she understood what I was trying to say.

For me, this situation was interesting for various reasons. Everything was fine until something small and silly disturbed my mother’s peace, which really shouldn’t have happened. If it were me, I would have given the girl a £10 note, the full amount, or extra money, and deducted it from the next time she came. I’m not going to go broke or break the bank over only £5.

I also believe that we should have a vote of confidence in others until they prove us wrong; we need to trust most people, not blindly, but generally, especially after so long of her providing cleaning services to my mother. It’s not as if this were the first time the young girl was cleaning my mother’s house.

Another point that I think is clear is how my mother took it very seriously, especially when the girl asked for the money a couple of days later. My mother took it personally, almost as if it were a personal insult, a slur against her, which highlights how sensitive my mother is and how careful I need to be when I’m around her. If I dance to her tune, everything will be fine, but if I don’t, it’s like declaring World War 3 against me, just like when I was a child, so I have to be cautious.

And the last point is that we never truly know if the girl, Beth, genuinely needs the money or is in a difficult situation, so we can’t really judge. Her reality and circumstances are different from ours, so maybe even though it’s just £5, that £5 could have been very important for her at that moment. Therefore, we should always, or nearly always, try to consider the other person’s situation.

My mother didn’t do this; it was more about her than the girl, and it was just for £5!

Even though carnival begins tomorrow in Brazil, and if I were there, I would have cancelled the last classes, but in England, I haven’t. I gave classes until 10:00 p.m. because of the time difference. I’m not sure if it is a more disciplined me, a more responsible European influence, or the time difference, and my body clock is still adjusting to Brazilian time, which is 3 hours behind.

After I watched a little TV with my mother, she asked me to crack open a bottle of wine to add a little to the Bolognese, and I drank the rest on my own when my mother went to bed.

One of the simple wonders of life is to drink a decent bottle of wine on your own in complete silence and peace. You could be scrolling, working on your computer or just doing nothing. It is just you, the wine and your thoughts, and there is nothing more precious than that.

It is heaven on earth!

In bed by 1:00 a.m.

Thank you.

Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.

Richard

Photos by Richard George Photography

The post Friday the 9th of February 2024: “Empathy, Kindness and Understanding”!!! first appeared on The Long Gringo.