Paradise found

My man is a great lover of cinema and could happily watch a movie every night of the week. He is also a night owl and loves watching films late at night. I do enjoy a film every so often, but mostly I prefer to have a conversation, or, if that doesn’t seem to be happening, read. I also like to be in bed by 11 at the latest (at least during the week, weekends I've been known to sometimes stay up past midnight!). So when he sulks because I hardly ever agree to a (late) night in front of the box, I try to convince him to watch one without me, I mean it’s not as if I would mind. But that’s the other problem; he doesn’t like watching films alone.

Ever since we returned from Venice I have been harassing him to start learning Italian with me. After a fairly relentless campaign he eventually caved in and we now spend about half an hour every evening repeating simple dialogue and memorising verbs. I love it! Whenever I develop a new interest it tends to border on the obsessive, like the case with quantum physics, which somehow managed to snare me a few years ago. But it quickly passes. This is different, I know it. So whilst he patiently puts up with my frantic enthusiasm, expecting it to fade soon enough, I am busy planning a new life in Italy (I’m sorry you had to find out this way, honey).

In the meantime, we have found the perfect solution to our movie dilemma. In my desire to immerse myself in everything Italian I have suggested that we watch only Italian films, and lots of them. He, delirious with joy at the prospect of finally having someone to watch movies with, has of course agreed. He doesn’t even mind when I pause the film every few minutes to ask “did they say non c’e male?” (or some other equally simple word or expression). I guess it really isn’t so bad, at least in comparison to the cinematic desert we previously inhabited.