Sunday, July 4, 2010

Walking the streets

Katya has gone away to visit her boy-friend in Hanover, we have the flat to ourselves. But anxious to become orientated we set off to view the city, happened upon the 12th century church half-levelled by world war II and left to posterity, came accross poetry emerging from under our feet on a boardwalk by the cathedral.

On crossing Rosenthaler Platz Germany score against Argentina, and folk erupt all around in suprised applause. Grinning people grinning at each other, grinning at me. Walking a busy city thronged with folk can be alienating but not today. Near there we fall upon a leather couch outside a tatoo shop and forget about walking and the disgruntling owner.

Upon Kastanienallee every bar, of which there are many has a television oustide and a good crowd of people around it. All bikes take to the road, and for us walkers we party-hop from screen to screen.

Flat back at the flat, I return to the open highway in search of dinner ingredients, and am further beaten up by the sun. Home again and fed and a minor domestic disagreement later we embark upon the town and though a little foot-sore it is nice for there to be two unsunny sides of the street so we don't have to crisscross. Guided by Map-Nav we get to the bar we aimed for, but the drinks are too expensive so we down an hour with a bottle of red oustide an off license with a down of mood gentleman. Bolstered by the bottle, we flew around the dance floor of another bar as if on the Wall of Death, and thus expediating the process of alcohol recyling I could just about manage to make basic conversational manouvres with some nearly scrupulous english people. We were lucky, nearly scupulous is good for strangers in a bar, supiciousness or over-eager-egging-the-puddingness will shade over any faces fixed under the sternest atificial lighting. Home, bed, tune in tomorrow if you are able still...

My friend arrives

Didn't get up til 2pm, hadn't slept well the previous night. Berlin is very hot, and had been reaching 35C on occasion, and by midmorning my duvet was clinging to me like a greco-roman wrestler. I dunked it off the bed. It was nice for that freshening gesture to represent my mornings sucess and not some abstract reconciliation in spreadhseet land.

Football screens strew the city, and I believe within there is even a football mile within a city park. It is called the Tiergarten, the inner city green lung that is the canopy to the trunk of the citie's main street, unter den linden.

Nothing much happened after I become erect either, other than shopping and sorting out my new room. So we fast forward to my sweaty trek to the railwaystation, Hauptbahnof, a vast greenhouse where someone has interlaced a life-sized train set. Nathalie arrived on time, but by car, dropped off by one of a network of car sharers taken all the way from the Savoie region of France. We caught up on the way home, drank some beer I had bought on the walk back and had another at a bar. Home, brief tour of flat and sleep, another good day.

Ich bin eine....

...Berliner! The flat is lovely. It has wooden floors and tall ceilings, and a Mary Poppins rooftop with lots of chim-chimeney chimney stacks. I sat up there on the first evening with Xavier who was subletting the room to us, and Katya who is our flat mate, and had a beer in the growing dark.

Nathalie would arrive two nights later, my friend I met in Amsterdam while couchsurfing at her house. I have come to Berlin to embark on a few tentative creative ventures and enjoy a 2 months sojourn from employeedom.

Both Xavier and Katya have been very friendly. Katya took me to a local coffee house the first day, where the man who made us our drinks was also the improbable face of the cafe on their postcards. An effeminate man he is seen posing as Wolverine from the X-men with a cookie struck bizzarely on one of his claws.

Nathalie unfortunately had been legged up by wrongly imputting her details onto the flight booking, and what with her noit living in Switzerland had to make other arrangments. She came the next day, stay tuned to here more...

Monday, March 29, 2010

High in Preston

Rolled out of bed and onto the straight tracks, slick steel speeding me to chorley for my first day back after my anaphylactic reaction to brazil nuts. Everyone at social services central was very kind, even more helpful than my GP even, and i am to have a risk assessment. The professionalism of lancashire county council.
Being a fish out of water is almost like the famous evolutionary step, to grasp the vitamins of air after the thin gruel of water. Aeons down the drain, literally. And so my far off thoughts and fish like looking into space i can find a niche within life's glittering bowl of fruit to be myself. And gobble it up for a while yet, the fresh air! The weirder you are sometimes the more leeway you have - i am at my funniest when i embrace the voice of madness within. Speak with your own voice, and burn the boats of suffering. Or whatever!
So i strolled out of the box that is our office and after cheesing myself with two slices from the booths deli i pedalled my stretching legs over to the chippy to add some chips to my defrosted bread and 2 portions of cheddar. Delicieux!
Another block of almighty typing, mouse wiggling, clicking, and reminiscing about having a poo in a chair in accident and emergency (all the wires in my arms, it was hard to remember how to do it when i was so scared about wrenching my life giving pipes from them), and hey presto,5pm and i am like out of there! Knowwhatimean?!
Back to the Bud Pad for tea, a wander in the garden,is this boring? And then a drinks gathering at Isobell and Laura's house (after having a shower, a new thing for me, i actually practiced Vaudeville stage act in there! complete with songs and stand-up routine) where Was was playing a Japanese computer game called Salary Man suicide. My high kite of mood had fallen out of the wind and by now i am peaceful again.
Good night whoever you are and thank you for reading!