Move Over Meryl

I have just got back from my theater class. I know! As if I wasn't busy enough!

I put down to join the theater class in September, but it was full and I got a mail saying I was on the waiting list. Last Friday a lady called and said that there was now a place free and I could join if I was still interested. So this evening was the first class.

It was fantastic! In fact, it was so good that I am now wondering what I am doing wasting my time running this little company of mine. I should be on the stage for heavens' sakes!

I think I have reverted to my childhood. Seems like now that I have got to the age that I am, I am starting all over again. Well, not from the very beginning, of course, I mean I am toilet-trained! But I used to have acting lessons and do exams and certificates and all that stuff and was always appearing on the stage somewhere until I was 14. (Later, I started again and spent many years dancing, but the acting had disappeared). Also, I had piano lessons till I was 18. And of course did lots in the writing department.

So a couple of months ago, I decided that now that my children are all grown up, I can go back to doing all the stuff that I really enjoyed doing before I had children (which seems like an entire lifetime ago - well it is, it's their entire lifetime ago!). This means that I am now doing one creative writing class, one theater class and one piano lesson every week (I don't think I mentioned the piano lessons yet).

It's all go in Casa Cupcake!

And there's homework too. This week for creative writing we have to write, among other things, a Haiku. Here is mine (it's in German of course):

Der Sonnenaufgang

An diesem trüben Herbsttag

Lässt mein Herz lächeln

It's not possible to translate that literally into English, so I've had to change it a bit in the English version:

Vermillion sunrise

On this gloomy autumn day

Makes my sad heart smile

Ha! Not bad eh.

The "Working You"

I have joined a creative writing class.

Yes, me! As if it is not enough for me to be writing all day in my work, and then on top of that writing in this blog (which, admittedly, I haven't done for several weeks), I now have additional assignments from my writing class.

There are seven of us in the class - six women and one man. Most of us are around the same age, except for two of the women who are clearly pensioners.

The lady who teaches the class is also a woman. In the first class, indeed in the first few minutes, she established the ground rules of the class. One of these was the way in which we should address each other.

In German, there are two forms of addressing another person - the formal "you" ("Sie" in German, like "vous" in French) and the informal "you" ("Du" in German, like "tu" in French). Normally, we would all be addressing each other in the "Sie" (formal) form, as we don't know each other. Especially, we would be addressing the older ladies in the "Sie" form, as German etiquette dictates that it is the older person who "offers" the younger person to use the "Du" form.

However, our teacher proposed that we all address each other as "Du" (informal) straight off. This is actually normal when you take a class. But it might have been a little bit of a problem here because of the two older ladies.

Both the two older ladies accepted it, although one of them did mention that she found it a little unusual because she came from an older generation, and even in her student days she had been addressed as "Sie". (Seriously she doesn't look that old, but who knows).

Our teacher justified the informal "Du" by calling it the "ArbeitsDu" (the "working you"). She suggested that we all address each other using the "working you" while we're in the class, but if we see each other outside the class we can revert to the formal "Sie".

I think this is so complicated that in the meantime we have all forgotten about it. Anyway, it has all worked so far.

Qu'est ce que jolly c'est

In honor of my father, who died in 2006, I wanted to list a few of his favorite phrases here. Actually I should have done this on his birthday, which was July 24, when he would have been 84 this year, but due to laziness and pressure of work... no actually, just laziness, I didn't. So here they are now. (I have listed a few of these in previous posts):

- Qu'est ce que jolly c'est?

It's funny, this is the worst phrase, and Lord only knows where he got it from, but every time something a tiny bit unexpected happens, I say this, and of course no-one can understand it.

- This is a one-eyed joint

Likewise, who knows where he got it from, and if you look in Google, apart from this blog, it appears once, and I'm not quite sure why. He did, however, say it all the time to describe places which did not come to the expected standards.

- I say, you chaps

Well, pure Billy Bunter, and my father was in boarding school from 1933 until I'm guessing, 1944. No mystery there. My father always addressed the family en masse in this manner. Actually, he usually prefixed most sentences with the words "I say".

- What?

My father usually finished up a sentence with the word "what". He wasn't asking a question. The "what" was used as the "n'est ce pas" in French. For example, "Well, it's nice weather, isn't it, what?"

"Damn all"

"I've got damn all time", "There's damn all to see on the telly".

Oh, I will think of more.

Queen Scenes (Number Five)

Queen: I say, Philip, the press appear to be rather concerned about your health. Apparently you have not made any politically incorrect comments for at least a month! And you seem to be restraining your politically incorrect activities to an absurd norm.

Philip: Absolute poppycock! I whacked that blonde housekeeper on the arse last Monday.

Queen: Is it possible that one needs to make a more public demonstration of such activities? I see that you will be opening a new Sainsbury’s in Peterborough on Thursday, perhaps you could wave an indecent hand in the direction of one of those ladies who might be operating the check-out counter, or whatever it is called? After all, one doesn’t want rumours of Altzheimer’s disease or worse appearing in the press.

Philip: The “§$%& press! The only thing I’ve ever known them concerned about is their own circulation! If I kicked the bucket tomorrow, that would sell a few million papers, and if I whacked a cashier on the arse it would sell a few hundred thousand!

Queen: One’s not asking you to kick any buckets, Philip. Whacking or kicking something else is another matter altogether. But, in line with your previous history, it might be appropriate to drop a racist comment or similar, simply to keep the herds at bay.

Philip: Well, I’ll tell you what. If I whack a blonde cashier on the arse, can you get rid of those bloody Paki call centers? Last time I tried to do something on my offshore account, I was transferred to Islamabad!

Dracula Bites Thumb

The plays and musicals of the open-air theater in our town are currently running all summer!

Last week I attended an excellent performance of the musical "Dracula".

And last week I had a little Dracula experience myself.

As a victim of the menopause, I have been trying out all kinds of therapies, hormones, etc. All expensive and unsuccessful, not to mention the side-effects.

So it was through the Internet that I learned of a new therapy, in the form of a cream that one rubs on various parts of one's body twice a day.

Well, it only cost €19.95 and according to reviews, is the miracle therapy of the 21st century.

So I hotfooted it to the website and ordered it.

The miracle cream arrived last Saturday morning. I had thought that I was ordering it from England, but in fact it was sent from a company in the Channel Islands, La Guernsey to be precise. More confusing was that when I tore open the package and found said cream, the description on the little tub said that it had been "Manufactured in the USA".

The little tub was enclosed in one of those welded-on plastic covers that it is impossible to remove. You know the type. First you break two fingernails, then you exercise some energy with a pair of scissors. You throw the tub around the room a couple of times, then you nearly burst a blood vessel trying to tear it apart. Finally you find your sharpest knife and attack it in a manner that you know is going to lead to tears or even a call to the emergency services, but you do it anyway.

In this case I was able to make a tiny tear in the plastic but an even larger tear in my thumb. Blood sprouted profusely, it was clear that I needed to divert my attention to that rather than the opening of the tub. So I fumbled around in the plaster drawer.

Less than 3 minutes later, I had managed to stem some of the bleeding with a plaster. The plaster drawer was quite full of blood by this time. I decided a second plaster was required, which led to more blood in the plaster drawer and quite some blood on the kitchen floor.

I turned my attention back to the little tub, while realizing that my blood was now spurting out through the sides of the plasters and depositing itself over more kitchen surfaces. Cursing, I snatched a couple of sheets of kitchen roll and attempted to stem the blood flow by wrapping the kitchen roll very tightly around my thumb.

The kitchen roll was soon soaked through and after clutching at more roll from the dispenser, which was now empty, I attempted to find a new roll in a cupboard. Blood was now being freely dispersed into the cupboard, into the sink, the bin and again, the floor.

Cursing further, I realized that the only way to stop the flow of blood would be a visit to the emergency doctor. The emergency services are located about 10 minutes walk from my flat, so donned with a further 5 sheets of kitchen roll and clutching the entire roll, I made my way there through the pedestrian precinct.

Already visualizing the headlines in our local paper: Dracula Bites Thumb, Distraught Woman Sighted With Kitchen Roll.

It must have been a good 35 minutes after the accident that the emergency doctor finally viewed my thumb, which was still bleeding! He bandaged it up, apparently not very well, as blood was still flowing faintly around 5 p.m. And when I returned, I needed to clean the entire kitchen.

Queen Scenes (Number Four)

Scene: Buckingham Palace, The Queen’s Sitting Room, Friday afternoon. The Queen and Prince Philip are perusing the newspapers while taking tea and some pastries.

Queen: I say, Philip, this is all simply too ghastly for words.

Philip: I’ll say it is. I distinctly remember ordering a mille-feuille and we’ve ended up with caramel éclairs! And to top it all, the cream seems to have gorne orf in the heat.

Queen: One was referring to this octopus which seems to be predicting the results of all the football matches.

Philip: Absolute poppycock!

Queen: Apart from having nine brains apparently, he does have a 100% success rate.

Philip: Well, why don’t you put in a bid for him and try out one or two of his brains at Ascot? I wouldn’t mind being ahead of the bookies for once! And if he doesn’t come up trumps we can have a decent paella.

Queen: The Guardian says he’s received a number of death threats and the Spanish Prime Minister himself is quoted as wanting to send him bodyguards! And the Mirror maintains that the Germans are singing anti-octopus songs.

Philip: Well, as long as they’re only anti-octopus, the rest of us will be all right, I suppose.

Queen: Really, one is beginning to feel that certain heads of state are more concerned about these football matches during the past few weeks than matters of national and international importance.

Philip: My sentiments exactly! I’ll be delighted once it’s all over and you finally return to your usual topics of conversation!

The Morning After The Onslaught Of The Spanish Armada

After the Germany/Spain game, I stayed overnight in Mannheim with two good friends. After a long post-mortem discussion in which the game, Germany, and the rest of Europe were dissected and reassembled in better shape by 1 in the morning, I fell asleep and only rose at 8 o'clock after both my friends had left for work.

It is always a little difficult staying in someone else's flat, especially when they are not in it. First I stubbed my toe getting into the shower, which led to a certain amount of blood and cursing. In my efforts to find a plaster, I must have searched through 14 different drawers and 8 cupboards.

They had kindly made me a pot of coffee, which I drink while smoking a cigarette. I had been told I might smoke, but I couldn't find an ashtray and really didn't want to search through another 28 cupbaords till I found one, so I smoked it at an open window. While I tipped the ash into the large ashtray of the environment, it didn't look as if I could do the same with the cigarette stub, so I investigated which bin would be suitable. However, my friends apparently do not just separate bio-waste from recyclable waste, but also paper from plastic. There were so many different bins that I gave up and finally wrapped the cigarette stub in a piece of tissue which I took with me when I left.

I had a similar dilemma with my coffee cup. I would have preferred to wash it but the dishwasher was obviously the cup's target location - however, everyone has their own dishwasher system, and this one was no exception. It took me several minutes to work it out.

I was confronted with the final problem when I came to leave the flat. Armed with the two pillows and duvet I had brought with me, plus my overnight bag and my handbag, I found that it wasn't possible to close the front door - something in the lock was jamming, and it wasn't one of my pillows.

I despaired. Was I going to have to stay here for ever, or at least until they came home?
Fortunately we live in the age of technology, as I have mentioned before. I came back into the flat, located the phone and called up the phone book, which behold, contained my friend's phone number at work. And fortunately he was at his desk and was able to instruct me in the trick of How To Close The Door.

Ah, and then finally I was able to drive to the office and weep on the shoulders of fellows and colleagues likewise in mourning from the onslaught of the Spanish Armada. Today we lament, tomorrow we work again.

Uruguay, Paraguay And All The -Guys

I hardly dare write it. Our Adler, our Deutsche Elf, Jogi's Boys, have lost to the mighty Spanish Armada of a football team in the semi-finals of the World Cup. The spirit in Germany today is crestfallen.

Never mind that it was *only* one goal. Never mind that our best young shooter, Thomas Müller, was missing. Never mind that our young Turkish hope, Özil, was fouled as he stood before the Spanish goal about to knock one in and the foul was not granted. The hopes and expectations for the young German team had gained increasing momentum, soaring steadily with each of their extraordinary victories, to the point where everyone had started to believe that they really had seemed to become invincible.

But our modest lads, not one of them a prima donna or an idol, played as if they were actually scared of the Spanish team. The tackling of opponents in possession of the ball, so prevalent in previous games, was almost completely absent here. Fans gasped in astonishment and shock as the boys failed time and again, at least in the first half, to make a clean pass. The Spanish were everywhere, strategically located throughout as if they were pieces on a chess board placed by a grandmaster, completely in charge of the game, and it seemed only a matter of time before the inevitable defeat arrived.

As for us, our little group once again rejoined to the Turkish pub with the large screen, whose staff this time provided us with small free snacks (and about time!). The mood - waiting for the end - was so despondent that I actually went out for a 20-minute walk rather than continue to watch the humiliation.

Sad as it all is, I am sure that the boys will win on Saturday, in the match for the third place. Germany should be terribly proud of what they have achieved. They are world-class, they deserve it and I don't care what that psychic octopus says.

Queen Scenes (Number Three)

(Scene: Buckingham Palace, Wednesday early evening. The Queen is writing in her diary when she finds that she is having problems with her fountain pen. Enter The Queen into sitting-room, where Philip is studying the sports pages of The Daily Telegraph).

Queen: I say Philip, the nib of this Conway Stewart is playing up. I’ve got an ink blot to rival Winnie Churchill’s on his Harrow Latin paper in the middle of today’s diary entry.

Philip: Can’t help you old girl, don’t know a bean about pens. Knew a chap once who did. Always had a Bic or two about his person. Swore by them.

Queen: One can’t use a Bic. These are the Royal Diaries! Can’t someone nip down to Fortnum’s – where’s Harry?

Philip: Harry? Good Lord, Harry doesn’t know what a §$%&/ pen is! He’s got 3 mobile telephones and one of those gadgets he sticks in his ear! And I don’t think he could find Fortnum’s without a radar and a helicopter!

Queen: Yes but he is good at standing in queues in shops. His mother used to take him to those Scottish chip parlours all the time, if one believes everything one is obliged to read.

Philip: I assume you’re talking about McDonalds. Listen, if one is not going to be allowed to read the sports pages in peace, then give me the wretched pen and I’ll find someone to sort it out. The Prime Minister barely has anything to do, from what I can make out from this newspaper!

Queen: Well that is awfully good of you Philip. If one doesn’t write today’s entry by this evening one will be getting behind and that won’t do.

Philip: And may I recommend an Internet blog in future! All this pen nonsense is becoming a bore. Not to mention the ink – as I remember the last delivery was the wrong colour! You really ought to have a look on Google – or ask Harry!

Dynamic Times

It is incredible! Germany has beaten Argentina 4-0 and is now in the semi-final!!!

Once again I met with the same group of friends as last week in the same pub - this time there were many more German supporters.

Germany scored the first goal in the first 4 minutes! and the rest of the first-half was a real nail-biting situation! We were all convinced that Argentina was still going to win.

In fact, I'm sure that my blood pressure was off the scale. Even though I was really happy that Germany had got so far, and I'd said I wasn't bothered if they didn't get into the semi-final, once the game was on and we were all so excited, I just didn't want Germany to lose now - I want this wonderful feeling that we're experiencing here to continue.

However, about 20 minutes into the second-half Germany shot another 2 goals in quick succession and it was clear that Argentina had no more chance. Angela Merkel was there and she was jumping up at every goal (she's a big fan). Our group - in fact the whole pub by the end - was clapping and cheering every good move.

And then Germany went and shot a 4th goal. It was incredible!!! Everybody was hugging each other and cheering.

And of course in our little town the atmosphere is once again electric. Just like after the game that put Germany into the Last 16. But it seems there's no stopping them now. They really are a great team. And they really deserve to win.

Thrillsville, Arizona

When I was a teenager in the 1970's, life was so different from how it is now it is often hard for me to remember how much simpler, slower and yet in many ways more difficult things were.

Everything we take for granted these days - Internet, mobile phones, instant communication, instant answers, fast(er) decisions, (slightly) more spontaneity because many people can be more flexible - was unimaginable back then.

If you were out and missed your favorite program on TV, well - it was gone forever. You had no chance of taping it in advance - while video players might have existed in the USA, they weren't really on the popular market in England until the early 1980's.

It is incredible to imagine that I sometimes now call up the programs I missed seeing back then on YouTube now - nearly 40 years later, in some cases.

Nowadays if I miss something on TV, I can usually call at least a clip of it up on YouTube within a few hours. And I can watch programs I like on my PC or on DVDs again and again. Back then, you would never have dreamed of watching anything twice. Once it had been aired, it was old hat.

Instant chatting, texting, skyping - being able (in theory) to call anyone, anywhere at any time - never mind the 1970's, this was unthinkable even in the mid-1990's.

And where has it brought us? While some people might not be in favor of the concepts of instant availability and instant gratification, I think it has brought us a much better quality of life. Why hang around waiting when you can get so much done. Why waste time when you can be using it. Why live in ignorance when you can google any subject that you have always wanted to know the answer to and find it almost instantly?

In order to adapt to the changed world, even language has changed so much. Apart from the wealth of interesting terms you can find on the Urban Dictionary, for example, just about everyone's vocabulary includes "new" words and phrases that would not only have been incomprehensible in the 1970's, but also impossible to explain.

We used to have interesting expressions back then, too - but they have sadly fallen into disuse. "Now we're talking turkey" which today translates into, for example, "That's what I'm talking about"; "It pays the bills" has become "It pays the taxes"; "I'm going to go down the shops" could easily mean today "I need some retail therapy" and "For Pete's sake" has become something else altogether.

Not forgetting, of course the ever wonderful "Thrillsville, Arizona".

Don't Mention The War

Now I know this is a contraversial topic but after the events of the last few days I just have to post on it.

Since time immemorial, or rather the last 65 years, the English have been harping on about The War. In case you are puzzled about which war this might be, it is the Second World War, 1939-1945. When I was little in the 1960's, kids and youths (those grown-ups of today) would sing "Two World Wars and One World Cup! doo-dah, doo-dah" at any opportunity. They were referring to the infamous 1966 Wembley Goal against Germany in the World Cup which gave England the game. Did I say when I was little? Last time I checked, they were still singing it.

One truly hopes that last night in the England/Germany game, this Wembley Goal was finally put to bed. In fact, everyone is already calling the non-allowed England goal of this match (which was clearly a goal, recognized by everyone's grandmother but not the referee) "Wembley II".

The English have an automatic aversion to everything German because over here we are all Nazis (poor political science education on behalf of the English school system) have no sense of humor (but I think that is because they do not understand the German humor!) and survive solely on a diet of sausage and kraut - which I beg to differ is possibly the preferred choice of meal in England rather than Germany - at least the sausage part!

Although I do everything conceivable to avoid the island, I am constantly coming up against the English, both in work and social situations. So it was that last summer I encountered a group of elderly Englishmen at our market festival - it was their first excursion to Germany, indeed they had never left the island at all. After their surprise that I "spoke the lingo" (well I have only been living here for 27 years!) they informed me that they were in fact being very enterprising - most English people would never dream of visiting Germany!

In my innocence I asked why? Because of The War of course!

It wasn't just the elderly Englishmen who were of this opinion. A couple of months earlier an old schoolfriend (so someone of my age) who had never left England visited me and shared with me that she was very surprised how normal everything was here, which she had not expected. I think she had truly believed that the Stormtroopers would be marching through every street and we would still be rationing food.

There have been photomontages in the Internet showing the SS logo over the German football team's logo, footballers appearing in steel helmets and a wealth of Nazi propaganda against the Germans. I hasten to add, not posted by Germans but apparently by the English.

Thank goodness this is only a one-sided rivalry and that, in the meantime, the Germans simply find it amusing.

The Battle of Bloemfontein

Germany has beaten the English 4-1!!! and are in the quarter-finals!

I had fully expected the English to win. In fact, I didn't know how I was going to get through the 90 minutes at all without a sedative. A friend reserved a table in a Turkish bar in an out-of-the-way suburb of Mannheim and 8 of us sat in very comfy armchairs directly in front of the large screen.

I don't think any of us expected Germany to win. Despite that we remained very chipper, joking and laughing and waving the German flag. After about 20 minutes I went out to the smokers' room for a cigarette - where all the Turkish people were watching a smaller screen TV - and bang! the first goal came for Germany! I jumped up, banged my knee (have a big bruise) and ran back to the main bar shouting Goal! Goal!

Barely 12 minutes later Germany shot another goal and we were incredulous. It seemed like Germany might actually win!

The English woke right up then and within minutes had their first goal. And just a few minutes after that, they had a second - while I was on another cigarette break - but when I came back to the bar it appeared that the referee hadn't noticed the goal.

This was not only a very bad turn for the English, whose second goal had been a valid one, but it left a very bad taste in the mouth. Germany shouldn't have to win like this! The only consolation might be that this is finally the answer-back to the famous 1966 Wembley Goal which was technically not a goal, but gave England the match.

The atmosphere perked up tremendously in the second half, when Germany shot another two goals. I have to say though, it was mostly our table making all the noise in the bar. That was because we were kind of the only people supporting Germany in there! There was almost nothing going on outside either. It was a bit funny to see how all the Turkish people didn't really seem to care one way or another.

Anway, I drove off about an hour after everything had finished as I was a bit worried that all the streets would be blocked and I wouldn't be able to get back home! It's funny, there's a lot going on out there, though it's not yet the craziness of last week, but maybe it will get that way later.

German football fans have given Germany a new name - Schland (an abbreviation of Deutschland). It continues to be a very exciting time.

National Bonding

You would never think I was a fan of football. Back in "the day" I was bored stiff by it. And I don't remember many of my friends being very interested in it either.

But in 1990, Germany won the World Cup and that was when I got hooked.

I can remember that my children were very small, 4 and 2 I think, and I was living on my own with them in a flat in the center of the city. I couldn't go out in the evenings, and I watched the football final alone on TV.

When Germany won, you heard whooping and fireworks all around. I opened my second-floor window and looked out, I could even see a couple of the fireworks over the tops of the other buildings.

Just a very short while later, the "two Germanies" were unified and, apart from a lot of celebrating going on in Berlin, I remember being surprised that not one firework went off in our city and you heard no whooping at all. I realized that the former West Germany was less excited about being unified with the former East Germany than they had been about winning the World Cup.

Germany had little success in the next two World Cup tournaments, but in 2002 the excitement started to take off again. Germany lost to Brazil in the final, but there were "football parties" and national feeling was starting to run pretty high.

It was only in 2006, however, that things really took off. Germany hosted the World Cup and lost to Italy in a very exciting semi-final. By this time, national pride had really started to develop. For the very first time, German flags hung from the windows of houses and appartments, every third car sported at least one window flag. National bonding had begun.

Probably for the first time since World War II, Germans were able to overcome their "collective guilt", proud to sport their flag and immensely proud of their country. And it was about time.

The atmosphere during this World Cup 2010 has exceeded all proportions. Almost everyone, regardless of nationality, has become a football fan - it seems that where perhaps war, and other national crises, in the past created the bonding factor for nations, it is now the football tournament that awakens these stirrings of national pride.

Last night Germany won the match against Ghana and have made it into the Last 16. Even in our small town, the atmosphere on the streets was electric. Several hundred, if not thousand, gathered shortly before midnight, in cars and on foot to celebrate. Horns were honked continuously, vuvuzelas blown. People danced on top of stationary cars. Nobody sat inside moving cars, but half-outside on top of the open windows - and drove! Enormous flags were flown. Traffic scarcely moved. Those on foot laughed, smiled, touched strangers in greeting, spoke to those they had never met. They danced and sang.

The police parked a car on the roundabout in the middle of the town and a couple of policeman stood beside it, smiling at all the craziness going on around them. They let themselves be photographed together with passers-by.

The celebrations continued for several hours. This was not the World Cup Final, it was not even the Semi-Final or the Quarter-Final. It was just the Last 16. It was absolutely wonderful, and I have not experienced anything like it my entire life. There was little alcohol in evidence, and it was very, very peaceful.

Alcohol was not necessary. Everyone is drunk on National Bonding.

Queen Scenes (Number Two)

Scene: Buckingham Palace, The Queen's Sitting Room, Thursday Evening.
The Queen is following the best World Cup goals in YouTube on her laptop.

Queen: I say, Philip, have you seen that chap Maicon's goal against North Korea?

Philip: I don't know how you find the time to pootle around in the Internet. One would think you would have your hands full trying to prevent your government from fiddling their expenses! And surely you mean South Korea?

Queen: One's decided to leave all that administration faffing to David Cameron. After all, he was at Eton and Oxford and he is a descendant of William IV.

Philip: Well, I'm sure that qualifies him to run the §$%&/ country!

Queen: Plainly it does, Philip. If you took the time to "pootle around in the Internet" like oneself, as you describe it, you could read on Wikipedia that Mr. Cameron's government is a coalition - the last coalition government being the one led by Winnie Churchill, who attended Harrow School and whose examination paper for Latin there consisted of one large blob of ink.

Philip: Well I'm damned. Do you think that Cameron chappie knows the difference between North and South Korea?

Queen: One hardly considers that to be an issue. One of them is the Democratic People's Republic of Korea and the other is the Republic of Korea. One is reminded of that film "Brian's Life" with the People's Front of Judea and the Judean People's Front. They are clearly both republics, they have people and one is sure they are all democratic. Anyway, have you seen that goal or not?

Philip: I downloaded that YouTube video to my Facebook profile yesterday. And in case you're wondering, no, I'm not going to add you as a Facebook friend! I don't want you publishing those photos of my Polo bloopers. Twitter all you want but don't poke me on Facebook!

Danke Deutschland

Today was Germany's first game in the World Cup, against Australia. I think it was pretty clear that Germany would win, but they won 4 -0!

A good friend of mine threw a "football party", which he does every World Cup, with food, entertainment, games and the match shown on a big screen. There were about 40 people there.

He had asked me to open the proceedings by playing a piano piece and I have been practicing Chopin's Nocturne Opus 9 No. 2 for weeks - only to forget my piano sheet music when I got there! And I can't play it from memory.

Fortunately my friend's mother was there, and she is an excellent pianist. She was playing 2 pieces by Schumann. I was desperate and before everyone arrived I played a few easy pieces by Burgmüller, which I can play from memory. My friend's mother said that one of the pieces was really good and convinced me to play one of them at the start of the entertainment instead of the Chopin.

So I did that, and after one or two false starts (everyone had come to watch and people were filming it!) it went OK.

The rest of the evening was wonderful, especially when Germany just kept scoring goals. Football seems to bring Germany together, and there is always a wonderful atmosphere when Germany wins. Even when Germany loses people are still happy.

On the drive home, everybody was driving around with flags hanging out of their cars, hooting their horns and everybody was waving to each other. When I got back to my town, all the people were on the streets and smiling and waving. It is a very good feeling. I really hope Germany continues to do well in the rest of the tournament.

Boobs

It was really hot today (over 30° C) so this morning I put on a t-shirt with no sleeves and quite a deeply cut V-neck. It is perfect for this weather.

Earlier this evening I went for a walk and put on my sunglasses as the sun was still really strong. I walked through the town and up to the park and back. I did notice that a lot of guys smiled at me and seemed really friendly. I'm not really used to having men look at me - OK, I'm not used to having men look at me at all! so it was quite an interesting and unusual experience.

The only thing I could think was that because of my sunglasses, they couldn't really see my face properly so might have assumed I look better than I do!

It wasn't till I got back to the appartment that I realized it was probably because of my deeply cut V-neck. I am also wearing a kind of push-up bra so it gives me quite a cleavage.

Honestly! Is that all they think about!

Britain's Got Talent And The Queen

Now "Britain's Got Talent" has got me hooked. I don't know why all those TV moguls and the like are complaining that "the pond has been fished dry" and "Britain's got no more talent" - I was addicted to that show this year like no other.

In particular, I am fascinated by the dialects (please see previous post about modern linguistics in Britain) and the popular phrases of your average British person today, as presented by "Britain's Got Talent" (sorry, "Bri'ain's Go Talen"), which is rife with intergalactic... sorry, intervocalic Ts (those are the ones that are now missing in the middle of words) and marked by a complete lack of Hs.

The point of "Bri'ain's Go Talen", as stated again and again and again in this program, is to find an act that is fit to appear before The Queen at the Royal Variety Performance, sorry that's the Royal Varie'y Performance. This will be the act that wins "Bri'ain's Go Talen", which incidentally also wins 100,000 of your best British (Bri'ish) sterling quids.

All the acts are asked (many, many times) what it would mean to win "Bri'ain's Go Talen" and they all reply without fail that it would be a dream come true to perform in front of royalty and there could be no higher honor.

I am almost sure there could be; but the thing is, noone ever mentions the money.

The other point of "Bri'ain's Go Talen", which was invented by Simon Cowell, is to find an act that Simon Cowell will sign up and make money out of, and of course the act will make money too. That's why the acts only ever care about what Judge Simon says, the other judges can tell them till they're blue in the face that they're "aMAZing" but if Simon says they're rubbish, there are often quite a few tears.

Ant and Dec are the names of the presenters, two nice young lads from Newcastle, very heavy on the intervocalic Ts, so it took me a long time to understand a word they were saying. They have to say the words "Royal Varie'y" about one hundred times every show, and they also have to mention the "Royal Varie'y Chari'y" a few times every show as well. They both seem to have a problem saying the "Royal Varie'y Chari'y", and I really think it would be easier for them to say the "Royal Variety Charity", but I don't think anyone has suggested it to them yet.

Apart from the "Royal Varie'y", there is one other word that you hear on this program so often you think that it might actually disappear from the language soon due to having been used too much. Everything is always "aMAZing". That's the response of each act after competing in the semifinals, at least. And also the response of each act that gets through to the semifinals of course. It was aMAZing and it would be such an honor to perform at the Royal Varie'y, it would bring me one step closer to my DREAM.

And what is The Queen herself thinking about all this is what I would like to know. Well the way I see it, there are two possible scenarios: either 1) The Queen is a total "Bri'ain's Go Talen" addict like myself, and has seen every single act 15 times already (she can call them all up on YouTube after the show) or 2) she is absolutely fed up with the whole thing and dreads having to go to the "Royal Varie'y".

In fact many of the people calling in to vote might be Queen-related or The Queen herself on several of her different phones.

Scene: Buckingham Palace, The Queen's Sitting Room, Saturday Night. The Queen is zapping through channels and hits the jackpot.

Queen: Philip! Get in here. That talent audition programme is on. Come on, you have to see what dreadful stuff they will be subjecting us to at that theatre performance. And bring your phone with you!

Philip: I'm §$%&/ damned if I will! It's bad enough having to be force-fed that turdwallop on the night, never mind having to sit through 75 hours of it before the §$%&/ event!

Queen: Those two young chaps look awfully pleasant but I do wish this programme would provide subtitles.

Where Has All The T Gone?

For a while, I have been observing a linguistic phenomenon in British English which I am sure was not prevalent when I lived in England (many moons ago).

It seems to have become fashionable for certain demographics to fail to pronounce the "T" in a word in well-nigh every dialect of British English, be it Cockney, South London, Kentish, Midlands, Newcastle, Cornish, Birminghamese(?), Mancunian, and all brands of Scottish and Welsh.

When I studied Linguistics at university (and I did!) we learned that the "T" that is omitted or rather swallowed from the ends of words, particularly in London dialects, is known as the "glottal stop", because it is articulated at the glottis. Thus you have words such as "didn" (didn't), "i" (it), "pla" (plate), "layou" (layout), "star" (start), and the wonderful "Gordon Benne" (Gordon Bennett), etc. The glottal also appears in other languages as a bona fide linguistic phoneme, rather than as a deviant in a dialect of the language.

Wikipedia informs me that this "T" that is omitted in the middle of words is an "intervocalic" T rather than a "glottal" T (for example, in the word "ci/t/y", or indeed, "Bri/t/ain"). Whatever it is called, it is missing presumed lost in extremely large numbers.

The missing T, combined with the H, which the same demographics seem to have deleted from their alphabet, and is similarly missing from the beginnings of words, must make it impossible for foreigners to understand what many British people are talking about. Throw in a bit of dialect vocabulary and current phrases and you might find yourself with one of the answers to why the British are becoming more and more insular.

The sad fact is that they are simply no longer completely understood outside of their island.

Blessent Mon Coeur D'une Langueur Monotone

66 years ago today, the Allied invasion of Normandy started at 00:15 hours. Paratroopers landed in the village of Ste Mère Eglise, where fighting ensued for several hours. At 4:30 hours the Allied forces took the village and the message went to the German command "Verbindung mit Ste Mère Eglise abgeschnitten".

At 6:15 hours, American troops landed on the beaches between Quinéville and Ste Mairie du Mont. This strip was known in code as Utah Beach.

The BBC sent messages in code to the French Résistance. The first line of Verlaine's "Chanson d'Automne" meant that the Allied invasion was to take place soon:

"Les sanglots longs des violons de l'automne"

The second line meant that the invasion was to take place within 24 hours:

"blessent mon coeur d'une langueur monotone".

At 6:30 hours, American troops landed on the beaches between Isigny-sur-Mer and Port-en-Bessin. This strip was known in code as Omaha Beach.

At 6:30 hours, British troops landed on the beaches between Port-en-Bessin and Ver-sur-Mer, which was known in code as Gold Beach.

While the American beaches were largely flat with little protection, Gold Beach was more hilly.

British troops also landed on the beaches between Arromanches and Ouistreham. These beaches were known in code as Juno and Sword Beaches.

In all, nearly half a million soldiers died before Normandy was taken by the Allied forces. I cannot imagine being so brave that I would jump out of a boat and run directly into enemy fire. I also cannot imagine being so brave that I would remain at my post in a small shelter just behind the beach and fire at such an oncoming force. Both world wars were madness and I truly hope that our human race will never see the necessity to start another one.

Beyond The Future

When I was little, the Future was the 21st century. Although specifically, this Future was going to start in about 1987 and finish in about 2001. That was because people couldn't really see beyond that date, I think. So the Future was going to be a pretty short time. The 21st century itself wasn't really going to happen, because the world would have come to an end by then.

George Orwell had written "1984" back in 1948, and even though it was fiction, I think a lot of people were convinced that by the time 1984 rolled around, things would be very different and not necessarily "futuristic" in a positive sense. Then Stanley Kubrick made "2001: A Space Odyssey", so that set the bar very high for where we supposed to be by the start of the 21st century.

In the Future, we were all going to be living either in underwater cities, underground cities or in colonies on the moon. The moon was a big part of the Future, particularly after the role it played in the space race of the 1960's and now that it had been "conquered", it only remained to go and start building on it. What were they waiting for? We did indeed wait and expect, but somehow interest, like the moon itself, seemed at some point to wane.

We would have discarded conventional clothing by the late 1980's, and instead have donned shiny one-piece suits without any obvious buttons, zips or poppers. We would have devices that enabled us to talk with anyone, anywhere at any time (our mobile phones). Computers would be our friends, except for the rogue ones, which would try to take over the world, and if we wanted to know the answer to anything at all, we just spoke to our friendly computer and he or she replied in a charming male or female voice (the Internet, which of course doesn't speak).

The one thing I think everyone really expected to happen was that we would be driving cars in the sky. I think a lot of people who grew up in the 1960's are quite disappointed that there are still no flying cars. But at the same time, I think that most people who grew up in the 1950's and 1960's are surprised that we are actually here, now. Because we were still in the Cold War period and everyone fully expected a third world war to be just around the corner, the main reason that the future was so distant was because people really didn't expect it to actually happen. To arrive at the year 2010 was an impossibility in real life, and could only be achieved in science fiction.

So we are now living beyond the Future of the 1960's.

Victorian Books

When I was little in the 1960's it was the time when we were still kind of very influenced by the Victorian culture.

I suppose this was because our grandparents had been brought up in the Edwardian era, and they were influenced by the Victorians. I think that, especially in that period, it took a long time to move on to a new culture, things were very much passed down from generation to generation, whereas these days, social culture can change drastically within a decade.

For example, now in 2010, social and scientific attitudes, language, and even culture itself to a certain extent, have changed a lot since 1995. If you watch TV sitcoms from the mid or even late 1990s, you will find that they are a little bit dated. That was only 15 years ago. Back in the early 20th century, 15 years was not necessarily a long enough time for things to have changed.

So it was that I had Victorian childrens' books passed on to me by a neighbor whose daughter had outgrown them. The Victorians and the Edwardians seemed to have a habit of making large, thick books full of different stories and pictures for children.

I wish I still had them now. They were a treasure. I still remember some of the stories and the pictures, many of them were so full of life and hope for the future, and I occasionally have a flashback to how happy I used to feel reading them.

How Tall Will I Be, When?

When my daughter was about 12 years old, she suddenly started to grow at an extraordinary rate.

I had never been blessed with children who remained the same size for long, they were born large and they grew continuously, so I had always had to keep buying new clothes for them all the time, but this growth phase in my daughter's life was unprecedented.

Within the space of about 5 months, she outgrew her clothes 4 times. Every few weeks, she grew a few centimeters. That meant buying everything new, every few weeks, from underwear to shoes.

This was not doing my wallet any good. Finally, even my daughter became worried, and we decided to pay a visit to the doctor to find out if there was something wrong with her growth gene, and whether she was on course to become a giant.

The doctor had a good plan. He said if he x-rayed her hand and looked at a couple of other values, it would be possible to calculate how tall she would eventually be once she had stopped growing.

According to his calculations, she would attain a final height of 1 meter 76.

It didn't seem too bad. Not a giant, just quite a tall lady. On the way home, we were both pondering on the results of the examination and my daughter said, "It's all very well, but WHEN will I be 1 meter 76? Next month?"

She had a point! She was about 1 meter 68 at the time, so we were still facing the possibility that she might go through a couple more shoots over the next few months or even weeks, and my wallet would suffer even more.

As it turned out, about half a year later she reached 1 meter 72 and after that she never grew another single millimeter.

So much for the accuracy of doctor's predictions.

Driving Home Via France and Switzerland

I have been so busy with WORK that I have had no time to write in this blog the last week. But actually last weekend I took a couple of evenings off WORK and had a very nice time with some friends. It feels like about a century ago!

On Friday we had another festival on our market square (so right outside my front door) and friends came, so we saw a live band and walked around admiring the town's decorations - the river was lit up with colored lights and blazes. It was raining a bit, so unfortunately there weren't so many people as usual, but that was quite good in a way as there was space to breathe, which usually there isn't!

The next evening same friends invited me to their house for a movie evening, and afterwards we played a few rounds of darts and table football. It was all very nice and relaxing.

The problem arose when I came to drive home. It was nearly midnight and I suddenly realized that I haven't driven in the dark through the countryside for absolutely ages! And I am night-blind.

Only about 5 minutes into the long drive through country roads I had already taken the wrong turning and it was several kilometers before I could turn round. I took at least two more wrong turnings before I finally got to the city, and then I went the wrong way again and when I tried to turn right where I needed to, I was confronted with a large set of roadworks!

Goodness only knows what route I'd gone through before I finally got home. I might easily have gone through a corner of France if not Switzerland!

All Quiet On The Western Front

I was thinking about World War I this morning when I woke up, which is a bit odd as it is not usually the first thing you think about when you wake up but I have always been a bit odd like that.

I suppose it is because that recently I have either been reading or hearing a lot about how things actually were when men returned from battle after the end of the First World War.

When I was little in the 1960s, war was still considered to be something noble, you fought and died for your country and you were thought to be a bit of a wimp if you didn't. But over time pacifism has become a kind of a norm and you are not thought of as a coward if you don't want to fight.

Personally I think that anyone eager to sign up and run off to battle, as they did in 1914, wants their head examined, but maybe that's just because I'm too cowardly to stand in a trench for 4 years with the worst possible quality of life and spending my time taking potshots at the enemy. As well as on occasion being instructed to basically commit suicide by so-called officers sitting in civilized accommodation far away with the unbelievably crazy strategy of "going over the top" and taking potshots at the enemy in the dark.

So-called "deserters" were shot. Well there's a logic for you! Like there wasn't enough shooting going on as it was! If you ask me, too many guns were in the hands of too many nuts.

The term "shell-shocked" was used to describe men returning from World War I, and back in the 1960's when I was little I used to think it was something to do with soldiers having problems with their ears from hearing too many bombs going off too close.

Now, you hear more about the mental effect on those soldiers, and the fact that there actually were very few eligible men left to marry during the 1920s - those that hadn't been killed were usually suffering from pyschological problems that were never properly addressed. In fact their discussion seemed to be kind of a taboo.

To boot, the wave of influenza that hit Europe in 1918 killed off even more people, so it must have been very tough times.

In World War I, around 10 million soliders were either killed, maimed or lost (I guess the lost applies to those who they couldn't identify as they were blown to bits).

The Battle of the Somme alone had over 1 million casualties, with 60,000 men lost on the very first day. At the end of the battle, Allied Forces had penetrated a total of 6 miles into occupied German territory.

You would think that after that first day it would have been enough for people to have seen how utterly crazy this war was.

If I had been in charge, I would have said, OK, that's it, folks! This is just too stupid.

They didn't though. And you know what? Just 19 years after the "first lot", as they called it, they went and had World War II.

And they're still at it.

Save A Little Crazy For The Menopause

I remember this line from a Woody Allen movie. Woody said it to Diane Keaton. When I heard it, I thought, oh good, so maybe this means that after the menopause I might not be quite so crazy any more. However, I now have the dreaded menopause behind me (I started very young) and there's still some crazy left. So I guess I'm saving it for senility now!

A Man And His Toolkit

Ladies, please! Not what you are thinking at all.

Just spent a lovely afternoon with a friend and her boyfriend who came to visit.

To make things easier, they parked in a free spot in the underground garage belonging to my building.

All went well until they were about to leave. The boyfriend discovered that one of the headlights was not working and said he had better fix it before they drove off.

He went to the trunk and fetched a toolkit and a set of spare bulbs.

Impressive, eh!

My friend and I stood by the light switch so that we could turn it back on when it went off (it is on a timer and goes off every 2 minutes - as the garage is underground it is then in total darkness).

What was not so impressive was that we were still standing there 20 minutes later while the boyfriend refused to give up trying to remove the headlight housing covering the bulb, which was basically impossible. He also refused to listen to our pleas to drive to a garage or gas station where there a) might be more light and b) qualified staff who were actually able to remove the headlight housing.

Upon questioning, it turned out that he had never done it before!!!

After 25 minutes I made my apologies and an excuse that I needed to return to my appartment because bla, bla. If they had any problems they should come up.

It is now one hour later and I have just tried to call them. As their phones are not ringing at all, I am guessing they are still in the underground garage, without reception, and still trying to find that last screw that will remove the headlight housing.

It's at times like these that I am so happy I don't have a boyfriend who insists on fixing everything himself, even if it takes all night, and am forced to rely on the efficient services of qualified staff, who albeit might charge me the grand sum of 3 Euros 60 cents to change the lightbulb.

In the Fog Without A Compass

It seems that the Dolly Bird (that's me) has managed to temporarily, at least, dump the Non-Boyfriend.
Having exchanged a number of useless mails over the May 1 weekend, I have decided not to reply to his last mail and simply ignore him. It makes more sense than trying to have a non-discussion.
While trying to remain polite, I told him several times in no uncertain terms what was bothering me, in fact, even a 7-year old child could have understood the issues.
One, for example, was that I do find it offensive to be called a Dolly Bird - twice.
Unfortunately, the Non-Boyfriend is claiming that he understands nothing. He has never been anything but polite, kind, a good listener, respectful, etc. Any comments that I considered to be inappropriate were "just jokes". Also, he has always been completely honest with me (hoho!).
In fact, he claims to be "in the fog without a compass". He simply has no idea what I am talking about.
Well, he can remain in the fog without a compass as far as I'm concerned. And it would be even more excellent if, apart from the lack of compass, there was no phone or Internet in it either!

How To Dump The Boyfriend

Now I have been seeing a guy for about the last 8 months. Why have I not told you this before? Because really, I have not been considering him to be a "boyfriend". More precisely, I have been considering him to be kind of a "pain in the ass".

When I first met him last summer, I did actually kind of find him fairly attractive and interesting. After a few times of meeting him, I found him to be a bit of a "bullshitter". By that I mean that he was plainly telling me "porkie pies" (lies) in order to impress me.

On top of that, he was also vaguely insulting. So I went off him.

I swear, as soon as he realized I had gone "off" him, he tried everything to get me back "on" him.

Ah, such are the ways of man.

He even brought me 3 kilos of self-raising flour at Christmas. He knew that self-raising flour was the way to my heart.

And he was right. My heart melted and I continued seeing him.

Until the next "bullshitting" and "porkie pie" phase.

And then he won the way to my heart again. Last weekend, he took me to France for a slap-up meal.

Of course, he slipped in the "bullshitting" and "vague insults" again. For example, he made a jolly good joke that he was going to tell all his mates that he had spent Saturday in France with a "dolly bird".

In case you hadn't realized, that was me.

I glossed over that, as I was trying to remain adult, and agreed to meet him again on Sunday, when once again, we deported to France, where we ate a menu of Escargots, Paté de Fois Gras, and several other French delights.

This time I paid.

As the "bullshitting" and "vague insults" were on the increase, I found an excuse to leave early and (as I was driving) took him home as soon as possible.

Barely had we arrived in the neighborhood, when he once again released the identical "dolly bird" comment of the day before.

By this time, I was kind of bursting. I am guessing, if you are a regular reader of this blog, you will realize that I have little patience for this kind of thing.

In the meantime, we have exchanged various e-mails in which I have given him the boot and he has tried to give the boot back.

The question is, how can I dump the boyfriend (who has never really been one) and still retain all my pride?

Ticketty-boo

My Gran was born in 1904 and I think she might have been what you used to call a flapper in the 1920's. She taught me how to do a "real" shuffle when I was 8 years old, and made me into a real card sharp. Every time she came to stay, which was often, we would spend our days playing Gin Rummy.

She was born and grew up in India, and moved to England when she was in her late 50's. I think she had spent most of the time in India playing Mah Jong and Gin Rummy, but her husband, my grandfather, died just after I was born and she had to come to England with very little money.

Not to be put out, my ever-inspired and resourceful Gran got herself a job as a saleslady at Bentall's department store in Kingston, and a room in a house in New Malden with a chap who lived with his son. I often used to go and visit, and it was always very nice at Gran's, she lived as part of the family.

I don't think she'd ever worked in her life before she got the job at Bentall's. It must have been very hard for her.

The best thing about Gran was that she liked presents as much as I do. So every birthday and Christmas, she would appear with a box of presents that she had either made or bought herself, and each of them was wrapped. They were usually quite inexpensive. The point was that she had taken the trouble to find them or make them and wrap them, so there was always a lot of them.

That was the exciting part, the unwrapping. It was wonderful, because my Mum didn't like presents, either the giving or the receiving of them. My Dad did, but he was unfortunately a bit dictated to by my Mum on that point. So we were very reliant on Gran for presents.

Gran also sounded like the female version of a Billy Bunter book. Some of her favorite expressions were Jolly D, What-ho and the one I love most, Everything's ticketty-boo!

All Saint-Like

Have been all saint-like, to quote Bridget Jones, and finished all the enormous amount of work that needed to be delivered by today.

Have also written all invoices, done all accounts, paid all open invoices and only have 2 more orders to finish up by the end of the week.

Boy do I deserve a pat on the back! Will have to give it to myself.

The Miracle of the Headset

Have discovered the invention of the headset to talk on the phone.

Due to intense pain in my left shoulder and in my neck between my head and left shoulder, have reached the stage where I simply cannot insert the phone under my left ear any more when talking on the phone.

Call me stupid (and I can hear you!) but it took a friend to give me the advice of using a headset. Have done this since yesterday afternoon, as often have to be on the phone for ages to customers while still typing - and it is absolutely fantastic. Will never phone without using a headset again.

Seems like I get slightly wiser as I get older. By the time I'm 65 I might just have got the hang of life. Would be ideal if I could then start again from the beginning with all the accumulated knowledge.

Birthday Girl

What a wonderful day!

Was woken by doorbell - it was a flower delivery service bringing me a beautiful bouquet of orange and yellow flowers - sent me by one of my customers!

Spent the day preparing the dinner I was making for friends - it was a lot of work but we had such a fun time. Apart from the three-course meal, there was a lot of piano playing and also a game - one of my friends had written a computer program with a quiz specially for the evening in the style of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" and it was very funny.

Have just finished clearing up and am looking forward to a good sleep.

Blokes' Night Out

My son and his friend went out last night and both came back and stayed here. As usual there were noisy goings-on in the middle of the night as often happens after a Blokes' Night Out with them getting up to go the bathroom and then wandering around in their still fairly drunken state trying to find the way back to the bedroom.

Last time his friend stayed he decided to wash his jeans in the washing machine, which woke me up at about 5 a.m. Unfortunately he had no recollection at all of doing it the next morning and apologized to me profusely.

I was impressed that, even in that state, he was able to correctly operate a washing machine he had never used before - I have problems doing that with a new washing machine in a sober state!

Easter Legs

Have just returned from Aldi! (still have not received that voucher, so here's my second attempt) laden down with a basket of goodies and have fallen up the stairs. Don't know how it happened, but managed to catch the border of one step right on my knee cap, which is in bad shape anyway. Hooray.

On positive note, have already received 2 birthday cards for next week. Has perked me up, after a long boring two days translating a financial report.

Have two more days of this to look forward to. The customer has already sent 2 sets of changes to the report, which I will incorporate one after another once I have finished translation of the original financial report. I like to call these little nuggets The Return of the Financial Report and The Financial Report Strikes Back.

Dr Jekyll And Mr Hide Things From Your Wife

Just saw an American TV show where the woman called her husband "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hide Things from Your Wife".

Very funny! I can think of the odd ex-husband I might have said that to.

Cabbages Tuppence A Pound, E-Mails One Cent

My lady masseur (masseuse?) told me this morning that she had just heard a radio show where it had been announced that the German government will be charging a tax of 1 Cent per E-mail from June 1st. Apparently loads of people were phoning in to complain and nationwide discussions had been ongoing all morning (and it was only 9 a.m.).

This led to a long discussion between the two of us which involved complaining about the many taxes already levied by the German government, and culminating in me worrying about how many Euros a month this new tax was going to cost me, seeing as how I write about 250 mails a month.

Turned out though, it was all an April Fool's hoax!

Morning Mists

Here like small, misguided clouds, the mists blow down
From the mountain which hangs above our town
And which whispers every morning to our valley
Into each and every tiny medieval alley
It is a new day
Come out and greet me
Come out and meet me
Face new challenges that may
Make this the start
Of a different part
Of your life
But I am driving through the mist
And though I get the gist
Of what the mountain is trying to tell me
I still have a problem trying to see the traffic light at the end of the road

Best of Three

When I was in my early teens, the last thing I was interested in was boys or even pop stars. However, to have any credibility, you had to have a pin-up hero. If you wanted to appear normal, you basically had 3 to choose from: Donny Osmond, David Cassidy and Marc Bolan. (Never mind that Marc Bolan was a cross-dresser).

Every single girls' comic and magazine had a pin-up of one of these guys every single week. At school, you would constantly be stopped in whatever you were doing and confronted with "Who do you like - Donny, David or Marc?" That was your choice. It wasn't an issue that I liked Mr. Marks the Science teacher - he wasn't one of the Big 3 (which is actually what many of the magazines called them).

I didn't feel the slightest attraction towards any of them but I had to pick up one so I chose Donny Osmond. At least he was about my age! David Cassidy seemed kind of too old and Marc Bolan seemed kind of too weird. I hung every Donny poster I could find on my wall and his practically luminous teeth would keep me awake at night. I taught my little sister to sing "The Twelfth of Never" with me (actually I quite liked that song).

Fortunately this phase only continued for a couple of years. Marc Bolan crashed his car into a tree so he was out of the running and as we grew more sophisticated, we were allowed to like David Bowie, Elton John (little did we know), Alvin Stardust and Bryan Ferry to name a few.

Coming Up For Air

Phew, just coming up for air here!
Most of my customers were a little bit asleep in January and half of February. I guess they were all still on their hibernation holidays. Anyway, for the last 5 weeks they seem to have woken up and have been sending me lots of work.
This week has been a record, with everyone deciding to come at once. I am just peeking out from behind my PC once in a while to fetch a cup of tea and make sure that I'm still here myself!
Nearly popped out of comfy seat this morning when called up one file that I had received and it was 5 times longer than I had been expecting. Was just thinking, well that's it, no room for anyone else now, when PC went ping! and another file from other regular customer appeared in mailbox.
However, it is all leading to a jolly good turnover. If I carry on like this, then I might well be a millionaire by oh... April 2024!
I have only my own greed to blame.

Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Dem Dry Bones

Went to the orthopaedist today for my knee injection and there was a lady in a wheelchair in the waiting room who was 103!

She looked better than I did! Perfectly coiffed hair, smart makeup, earrings and snazzy glasses - and a stunning smile. I could hardly take my eyes off her.

Again on the medical front, had a massage this morning with a new lady masseur. I was very pleased to have a lady, as I have always had male masseurs and they never seem to stop asking questions about your private life. So when I saw this lady, I thought oh good, just the massage this time. Although she did in fact talk non-stop she was very nice and gave a thoroughly good massage. The old shoulders were cracking and crunching away so am obviously very tensed up. But was very impressed with the treatment.

Too Much Culture

Have been given 2 free tickets to a classical music concert in our local Palace this evening. It is a posh do. And as the Palace is only about 75 seconds' walk from my front door, it will require no effort to get there.
However, don't want to go on my own as I think you should always be accompanied when you go to the theater. And all my friends are either too far away, already busy or reckon it is "too much culture".
It might even be too much culture for me! It would not be good if I found I was bored out of my brain and had to sit through it for an hour until the interval.
Am thinking of going and taking my I-pod just in case.

Super Market

Have discovered the joys of Aldi! I used to go to an Aldi a few years ago and found it quite depressing, not to mention untidy and strangely quite dark (that just might be me remembering it that way because it was a long time ago and the recesses of my memory are fairly untidy and dark, a bit like an old attic).
However, decided to venture in once again on Saturday as there is one just around the corner from us or more precisely, about 5 minutes drive in the car.
It was like Christmas! Large, bright, tidy, FULL of food and other really good goodies, and especially the food sections contained lots of bio products, gourmet products and products that you normally only dream about being available here (such as Earl Grey tea).
It was as if 50 helicopters had landed with care packages in an airlift action.
And the prices! I filled an entire basket for 17 euros.
If you are reading this, it is not an advert for Aldi, nor it is one of those product promotion things they write into sitcoms these days - but if Aldi is reading it I wouldn't be averse to a large voucher.

Age of Aquariums

There is a döner parlor around the corner from us. It is run by a Turkish family, the sons have grown up here and speak fluent German but the parents not so much.

I often pop in to get something and have a little chat with the father.

A few months ago a friend gave them a gift of his aquarium with exotic fish because he was moving and it didn't fit in his new appartment. It's not very big but it is very pretty and well-kept. When it arrived it had 23 quite large and exotic fish in it and I admired them a lot.

One evening I went in and the father was looking even more depressed than he normally does and wasted no time in telling me "Thirteen dead!"

I looked inside the aquarium and sure enough there were only ten fish left. Apparently all thirteen had died overnight. I guess it is pretty obvious they all ate something that wasn't good for them.

Apparently schoolkids come in at lunchtimes and while he's busy making koftas and yufkas and the like they're busy feeding the fish bits of döner.

So now he wants to get rid of the aquarium as fast as possible as he says he can't be watching all the people all the time. He has offered to give it to me for half the price of new. And he wants me to take it really soon. I'm still considering it as it would take up quite a lot of room and is a considerable amount of work.

Also I would be worrying about the fish all the time, giving them names and counting them twice a day. Maybe not such a good idea.

Spring Clean

Spring has inspired me! It is as if I have awoken from a deep sleep (otherwise known as hibernation) and some of my senses have started to return!

Possibly it is due to a warming of the environment (not to be confused, I hope, with global warming), after all it is 19° C here! Have turned off the heating and the balcony door has been open all afternoon.

Have cleaned most of the appartment with help of son (who hoovered all carpets) and will finish up tomorrow morning. (Almost) everything is gleaming! Son even purchased new mop.

It feels pretty good.

First Ice of Spring

It is Spring in our city! Our innovative city, in which so many things were invented and discovered, has found Spring 2 days early. Met up with a friend this evening and we had intended to sit inside a café but as it was so warm (14° C) we decided to sit outside in an ice café and ate our first ice of Spring - one Spaghetti Ice and one Banana Split.

The Dearly Departing

It is sad when a friend moves to another continent.

Unless you're going to skype them every day with a webcam, you will probably not see them for a long time, if ever again.

One of our Specs is departing for foreign shores and even though I haven't known her very long, I will miss our little lunches.

Attention Spam

I have noticed that some people have difficulty concentrating on one topic of conversation for longer than about 8 seconds, and are continually branching off onto non-related subjects. It's sometimes preceded with "Can I just interrupt?" and you think there might be some informative supplementary data to your mainline stream of thought forthcoming, but in fact it's more likely to be so off-topic as to make you wonder if you're so boring that any other topic would be a relief to the ears. Other times the off-topic is not preceded by any introduction but just hurls you into a parallel universe. I call this little nugget of observed behavior "attention spam".

Specs and the City

Lunch date tomorrow with The Girls! It's Girls' Lunch in a restaurant, a bit like Sex and the City. Except that we are not quite as glamorous as they are, nor do we talk about men and sex. Mostly we discuss food, food allergies and our hobbies. And we all wear glasses. In fact we are more kind of Specs and the City!

Customer Answering Machine

Accidentally mistook a customer for an answering machine today.

Called their number, and the lady in question answered very slowly and precisely with her name and the company name. I thought it was an answering machine.

I waited until all of this was over and then was about to put the phone down as I had planned to call back later rather than leave a message.

Suddenly the answering machine addressed me by name! Apparently my customer not only has my number but also my name stored.

I will be more careful in future.

Wedding Ring

Had to have my wedding ring cut off today. It was either that or my finger!

My ring finger was so swollen, apparently due to arthritis, that the ring was completely stuck.

Fortunately we have "Open Sunday" today in our town and there is a very nice jeweller opposite who took one look at my finger and then reached for his tool (a ring cutter!).

Ladies, please!

Feel a bit sad but it was totally necessary.

The bank is taking us over!

The bank has had a party today. I think it must have started about 8 am, anyway it finished at 2 pm. A party service delivered about a million bottles of beer and about three thousand muffins. When I went downstairs to get some takeaway lunch about 11:30 the entrance to the building was like the Albert Hall with standing room only. Many people were standing around, others were loading the tons of food and drink through our front door to the back entrance of the bank. It was difficult to actually leave the building. The party service nearly knocked me over!

I asked if this was going to take all day, and was told it would be over by 2 pm.

So I walked round to the market place and saw the actual entrance to the bank, where there was a big poster advertising all the stuff they were offering today - kid's painting, free alcohol and the like. What does that have to do with being a bank?

I ventured into the bank where it seemed like several hundred people were clammering for free beer and prezels. It was like Piccadilly Circus! I got out quickly and when I returned with my takeaway lunch the party service asked me if I would like some muffins as compensation. Before I could speak they planted a chocolate and vanilla muffin on top of my takeaway lunch. They tried to plant some prezels too but I escaped upstairs before that was possible.

There must have been hundreds of people down there!

The Bank

A bank has now moved into this building, two floors below my appartment. Apart from the *extremely noisy* construction work of the last 7 months to renovate the building in order to accommodate the bank, the bank itself has now decided to make a noise.

I swear if that bank doesn't change its ways soon they will have a very angry person storming in on them - just as soon as I find the right door.

Baby Girl

Well! Am very proud to hear that my little baby girl (though now all grown up) has a super-duper job for an international company in London! One chick leaves the nest... wondering about leaving the nest myself!

Boring Start

A fairly boring start to the day - waiting and waiting for answers from customers who all seem to be in meetings or having the day off.
Have made list of items I am waiting for.
Is a bit of a waste of time.
Wishing I could be doing something interesting!

Creation

Created blog.