rosiedoes: (Mood: Remember)

My nonno (my father's father) passed away, this afternoon. He was 89, and had suffered from Parkinson's since before I was born. Over the last six months, his health deteriorated dramatically and suddenly, until Dad and I made an emergency trip out there in February.

He nearly died while we were there, due to a negligent GP, but he hung on until today - despite breaking both hips in a fall a few weeks ago.

One of my clearest memories of him - aside from being the one person who sat with him and held his hand while the doctors tried to unblock a catheter at a critical moment, and the rest of the family flailed around and argued about whose fault it was - was of my brothers and I, then 11, 8 and 6 years old respectively, sitting on the porch at the family's country house and singing rude rhymes in English, while he clapped and cheered, oblivious to the obscenities his grandchildren were chanting.

He was a serious man, with a dry sense of humour. In February, when my cousin's fiance, Gaetano, asked how he was feeling, he glanced at him for a moment and said, "Yeah, I'm going dancing, now," before shuffling into the kitchen in his pyjamas.

Despite being in his late 80s, and working hard for most of his life to support his wife and sons - even moving to Germany for a few years when my father was a child, so that they could afford to rebuild the decrepit family home in Collesano - until Christmas, he was still wandering around the steeply hilled mountain village where he had been born and raised, lugging home food and doing all the things Sicilian men are expected to; a real trooper.

I wish over the years I'd had more time to spend with him, and I think he felt the same, but I'm glad he's passed, because I know he's been in a lot of discomfort and while he was sharp as a knife, mentally, he has had to watch my Nonna - his wife of nearly sixty years - descend into dementia, and I'm glad he's gone before she became unrecognisable.

So, for those of you who drink, raise a glass of Italian red like the wine he used to make from his vinyard, and for those of you who don't, some Nutella on crusty bread is one of the most Italian things in the world. Indulge in his honour.

Buona notte, amore mio. xoxo

Photos from Sicily

Friday, 18 March 2011 09:28 pm
rosiedoes: (Place: Sicilia)
I didn't really do a blog when I came back, so here are some photos from my visit.
rosiedoes: (Mood: Heritage)
Most of you probably know I have hardly any contact with my family, so I don't know much about what's going on in my brother's life. I knew he was in a band called Digital Bob, but I did not know they'd actually been recording stuff and playing festivals and shit (even small festivals).

This is a video of them in the studio. Cristian is the first person you see.

I know my brother, and this whole thing absolutely smacks of his style. I can probably dig out recordings of their old stuff, from before he ever went to Uni, and it sounds like the same band, minus keyboards. He's had a huge part of writing this stuff, I swear it.

Their MySpace is here. This is their website.

Oh. And he kind of looks like Jake Gyllenhaal, sometimes (he's on the left). Also: he's been playing that same guitar since he was about 11.

(no subject)

Monday, 3 November 2008 01:34 pm
rosiedoes: (Mood: Bleak)
I had a dream last night that was really weird.

I was talking to my brother on the phone and he told me that he was working somewhere in our old home town - like a funeral director's or something - and he said that my old best friend from secondary school had died.

I was asking him over and over to tell me more about it - what had happened? What about her baby (I don't even know that she has one)? When did she die? - but he wouldn't tell me. He just kept saying that if I hadn't refused to stay in contact with my mother all these years that I would know.

It was really fucking surreal.

(no subject)

Sunday, 12 October 2008 12:40 am
rosiedoes: (FOB: OMGRLY)
I just found the MySpace for my mum's cousin's band, Druid. I knew Marillion had cited them as one of their influences, but I'd never realised they were this well known, back then.

Bloody hell.

The singer, Dane, is my mum's cousin - my nan's younger sister's son. I was only in contact with him about a year ago, regarding our genealogy searches and stuff. It's his eldest daughter, Micah (although I've a feeling they spelled it differently) that the baby girl in the Mpreg is named after.

(no subject)

Friday, 28 March 2008 12:18 am
rosiedoes: (FOB: Size)
I can't decide if I want to go and see ****-Live at the cinema not. It's going to be on in Camden (near me, really) and tickets are only £9.00 - but I dunno. I went to the HCT, so if that's all they're showing - the live version - it's hardly worth it.

That said, it's also on my cousin's fourteenth birthday (her presents? TTTYG and FUCT, as requested, plus The Sufferer and the Witness, The Longue Duree, which they signed for her ♥ and ****-Live on DVD with the bonus CD, which is on pre-order). If she was old enough I would have taken her and a friend to the cinema thing, as well.

The younger one is getting Guitar Hero III, with the cool black guitar because her birthday is just after Christmas, so she gets my presents on Jasmine's birthday so she has something to look forward to as well.

I totally spoil these kids. I gave them £50.00 each and took them shopping in London with their mum, last year. They're very cool kids. Jas is a dancer and Saffron is a rock-climbing prodigy. As you can tell, they lean toward pretty good music, as well. XD

I should be in bed*.

Heads up, by the way FOUR YEAR STRONG ARE ABOUT TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD. Via my journal. Beards this way, chaps.

* No, I really, really should, because I just looked at Dan and thought, "Hm. I might grow a beard, you know..."

(no subject)

Saturday, 15 March 2008 06:47 pm
rosiedoes: (HRE: Album)
[ profile] shinko - I've been waiting for you to come online for days, but I haven't seen you.

Go here. That was Jay's idea, not mine.
rosiedoes: (FOB: Size)
Rosie says:
I'm really thinking about becoming a tattooist.
cristian says:
Rosie says:
I've found a course online to get started, but after that it's a lot of work for virtually no money and I don't know how I'd handle it.
Rosie says:
I just really want to do something different.
Rosie says:
Julie (my best friend, who lives in Ireland, but is moving to London) has said that if I take up tattooing, she'll take up piercing.
Rosie says:
Then, one day we might open a studio together. It'd be years away, yet, but it's a loose plan to work to.
cristian says:
sounds good to me
cristian says:
so u need money basically
Rosie says:
Rosie says:
Thinking about selling my sould to the Devil.
Rosie says:
Or to start buying lottery tickets! Hahaha.
cristian says:
do the latter first i say
Rosie says:
Yeah. I'd have to start believing in Christianity as well, first.
cristian says:
well, i reckon u should go for it
cristian says:
not christianity, the tatooing

(no subject)

Tuesday, 30 October 2007 11:22 pm
rosiedoes: (Mood: Heritage)
Today was six years since my mother kicked me out.

Biggest favour she ever fucking did me.
rosiedoes: (FOB: Pwnd)
He's flying to France to stay with our mother, tomorrow, and was asking what it's like to fly. We had this exchange:

Rosie says:
You're going to love going through security and customs. Not.
cristian says:
i bet they're fuckers at the moment
Rosie says:
Rosie says:
You have to take all your stuff out your bag - laptops, phones and stuff in pockets have to go through separately from your bags
Rosie says:
If you're wearing a belt, you have to take it off
Rosie says:
You have to get your shoes x-rayed
cristian says:
Rosie says:
If they feel like it, they'll frisk you
cristian says:
Rosie says:
Customs staff are moody bastards
cristian says:
its prob cos they've got to spend all day watching other people go on holiday


Friday, 27 April 2007 04:49 pm
rosiedoes: (Mood: Heritage)
Okay - I'm off for the weekend to stay at my nan's.

Having a girls' day out with my cousins, Jasmine (13) and Saffron (9), tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Don't enjoy any scandals until I'm back.
rosiedoes: (Mood: Shocking)
My nan phoned, earlier.

My mother has sold her house (for nearly £200k profit) and will be moving to France. She says. My mother will despise the French and wallow in self-pity at the fact that she doesn't speak the language. She will think them peasants, just as she did the people who lived in my father's village in Sicily.

She's going to hate it.

Berti, my brother, will be studying at Uni, but will go home to France on holidays. He'll hate it, too.

This means all the things of mine she has crammed into her house needs to go. I've given orders to send me my Natwest Piggy Banks (allegedly worth £350 for the complete set - but not something they agree with on eBay, apparently) and my books, and dispose of the rest. I'm afraid that she will go through my diaries and notebooks, if she has to sort them out. I used to write my earliest fanfiction on paper, in stolen exercise books from school.


But yeah. My mother is moving to France. I can't wait to see how this pans out. I wish there was a snowflake's hope in Hell that she would reimburse me for all the phonebills she made me pay in the last couple of years (around £120 per time) and then found out they weren't me at all. Bitch. I should get compensation for having been made to live with that crazy.

Seasonal stuff.

Friday, 22 December 2006 08:34 pm
rosiedoes: (Season: Winter)
[ profile] gaelic_angel is of the awesome.

The 'Post to Journal' page is still not.

Anyway - today I got home to find I had a parcel containing not one, but TWO of the albums I desperately wanted, and was way too lazy to buy! The Black Parade and From Under the Cork Tree are now mine! :D

This is fantastic, but does make me feel slightly guilty as I only bought her presents today! They'll never get to Ireland in time for Christmas (I don't celebrate it, but she does), but I suppose they'll be something to look forward to for the New Year. There's something in there from her birthday, too, which I also failed to post, and something else that is delayed at the source, but which I'm assured is already in the post.

[ profile] ashe_frost: I did the lazy thing again, I'm sorry.

In other news, I somehow seem to have bought AN ABSOLUTE FUCKLOAD for my cousins. I am the coolest grown-up cousin ever. I just bought them (they're 9 in January and thirteen in April; not both of them - that would be silly) an Exclamation! perfume and bodyspray set each - Dance for Jasmine, the elder and the dancer with the unstoppable giggle; Play for Saffy, the kiddette and the prodigy rock-climber with the insane sense of humour. I also bought them earrings, which I do every year, and got them some bath stuff as well as crazy stuff like stickers, and glittery lipgloss, which little girls love. Miles of little bits and pieces...

Oh, and some Canadian Rainbow Chips Ahoy! cookies. I got them maple syrup lollies, last year.

I'm taking my camera to my nan's with me, when I leave on Sunday, so when I come back I might show a pic or two of the members of the family I still talk to!

Happy Yule, kids. Don't gorge on too many minced pies.

(no subject)

Wednesday, 13 December 2006 11:26 pm
rosiedoes: (Mood: Rage)
The thing I hate most about my mother, is the way my brothers are so fucking blind to the truth about the way she was.

Cristian is such a biased little cunt. Mum has spent years telling them how fucking nasty I was to her, and they believe it. He refuses to ever see anything from my point of view, even when he's said "Yeah, she's still like that".

When we were kids, my mum and her boyfriend - who used to beat her up in front of us every weekend - asked him and Berti if they wanted him to leave, and they said yes; and then they asked if I'd told them to say it, and they said yes, and it was a total fucking lie.

My mother is the sort of malicious bitch who can wish a child stillborn to spite the parents - and mean it - and yet to Cristian she's such a brilliant fucking parent.

Would I seriously have put myself through the last five years of basically having no family for my own enjoyment? Seriously?

I wish she was dead. I really do. I wish she'd fucking do what she's been promising for years and kill herself. It'd do the world a favour.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

Saturday, 9 December 2006 08:30 pm
rosiedoes: (Mood: Fear)
The other rugrat has got a myspace, now.

My sibs' childhood friend, Mike, who has had me friended forever, announced today that we should all friend Berti because he's 'buff'.

I'm off to scrub my brain with bleach, but you should all check out the baby brother.
rosiedoes: (Place: Sicilia)
It's been a long time since I updated, but I haven't had an awful lot to say...

Today was really nice.

I've been feeling awful, still - nauseous, exhausted, slightly feverish - so I just went out 'for a while' to drop of Ella's birthday presents at Coffee. Of course, even though I'd cancelled on Natalie and her housewarming - Jason and I both pulled out because we were generally not up to it (I'm not sure of his exact reasons) and I felt quite bad - 'a while' meant several hours.

On our way to Russell Square, we stopped at a shop called The Olive Trail, and ended up doing an olive oil tasting. Neat olive oil, in wee little cups. Drinking it. Sniffing it. Finally, mixing it with 15 year old Balsamic vinegar and discovering that it was delicious. I spent £35 on the stuff.

I bought a bracelet as well - brown leather thong with two olive wood balls on it and a sliding-fasten, to adjust the size. I put it on my wrist over my maple leaf (which still needs touching up), to complement another side of my heritage (granted, the olives are Greek, not Sicilian, but my family own an olive grove that my siblings, cousins and I used to play in, as children).

Ella, Elise and I then went on to a small Italian restaurant and sat outside having a light meal, while England flunked out of the World Cup. The owners brought us lemon liquer to make us feel better when we lost.

After that, Elise and I wandered down Charing Cross Road to Trafalgar Square. On the way we encountered the entire Metropolitan Police Force and some defiantly cheerful football supporters, who none the less seemed rather keen on terrorising passengers on passing buses, by pummeling the sides as they went by. There were also a lot of Pride people around - and a few Canadians as it is Canada Day, but being Nice People, the Canadians celebrated yesterday, so as not to interfere with the procedings. We made the realisation at this point that if terrorists wanted to make a real impact an awful lot of their favourite targets were in the same vacinity.

Anyway, we walked down to St. James's Park, sitting first on the grass opposite the home of the Household Cavalry, and then by the lake where lots and lots of very stupid ducks were loitering around, trying to scab sandwiches off of the tourists. A couple had even brought the kids to cute it up, like the Hovis advert.

Also discovered, was a really cute restaurant and bar on the bank of the lake. It has outside tables, sells cocktails, and has lanterns and blankets on the grass for those not eating.

I need to go on a date there. It was such a beautiful and romantic setting. No offence to Elise, but I'd rather have been there with Philip, who is my second ever watercooler crush. :) It's not even that badly priced - £15-23 for a main isn't that bad. I was expecting closer to £35.

After about an hour sitting by the lake, we returned to our respective homes. Spurred on by the olive oil and thoughts of my grandparents, I called my dad. He was so pleased to hear from me. He's trying to run a restaurant and help raise four-month-old twins - and a five year old, and has been so busy and exhausted. He's never been very good at keeping in touch, although I know he doesn't mean to be - I'm just the same as he is - and we talked for a while. I called him at work, and he took a break to call me from his car where it was quieter. Then his battery ran out. Apparently, he kept talking for ten minutes before he realised the phone was dead (evidently, my smarts do not come from his side) and then called me back from inside again.

He's talking about us going to Sicily, next year. My grandad (Nonno) has Parkinson's and both he and Nonna are getting old - we all need to go out there and see them before one of them croaks it. They always phone, begging me to go to 'Casa mia - vostri cugini li aspetta!' - or something in correct Sicilian dialect (Italian, Greek and Arabic hybrid - technically a language in itself, Sicilianu, but generally accepted as a dialect of Italian) - in a peculiar, sing-songy tone. Well, I say 'they'... Nonna does. Nonno says, "Ciao, ciao. Come stai? Benne? Bravo, bravo... Ciao... Ciao..." and that's it.

It's lucky, really - my Italian is so limited, these days... I used to be fluent. I keep meaning to learn again... Sometimes, I find myself surprised at how conditioned I was by attending Sunday school and stuff in that sprawling Catholic village halfway up a mountain... I kept wanting to buy a cross pendant in the olive shop, today... I'm not even Christian.

But yeah, my dad wants to get all six of us under the same roof, at some point. Which would be nice, except Berti is a borderline psychopath, and the issue of my mother will inevitably come up at some point and then there would be violence, and I don't want to have to kill him... Still, I'm apparently making progress with Cristian, because he asked to visit me - which dad was pleased about.

I hope we do get together, soon. It feels like I'd have a bit more of a family if we did.

I will leave you with this... :

Collesano (the first house I lived in, in Sicily, and the place where my dad was born is circled):

The local beach and fishing village - Cefalu. Yes, Thelemites - the same place:


Sunday, 27 November 2005 09:10 pm
rosiedoes: (Yay)
Oh and by the way, my stepmum is having twins in March and I'm going to have my first baby sister.

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