Sunday Stroll


A forest in the City. Wildlife in the woods. Super-fit joggers. 2 forms of German Dad + daughter – 1. bored teenager timing Dad’s run circuit 2. strolling with small girl smoking fag, drinking beer. Loud music from the sports pitch. Killer pinecones…


The world’s weirdest swings. the lake you can’t see, even from the viewpoint.


*Another* beach, another lake – back into Wiessensee…


P.S. Found the local corner shop that is open Sunday mornings, so was fed 🙂


City Limits


A trip out to Spandau in the afternoon, complete with amusement of it still being listed as twinned with a town int the DDR, man walking Giant Rat on a harness and lead, loads of lovely Vietnamese food with the lovely Sarah and Malte, and then a trip out to Sarah’s friend’s summerhouse out North, East? I lost track – but went right past my apartment door, so I was okay for a lift back.

The people put up a medieval tent in double quick time to protect us from the rain, and beer, coffee, loads of food were had. Then Sarah treated us to some singing and bagpipe playing (sadly I didn’t get a good picture of the bagpipe part). The German mozzies appeared to prefer to bite other people (for once, a miracle!!! Maybe they generally don’t like the taste of me  – that would be SO COOL!!!). I even joined in and sang a folk song, saying afterwards “Don’t tell them at Blackland!”. Home early, bed b4 midnight. Unheard of. Good. Different pace.



After breakfast, I hung around the guest house, making use of the free (if slow) Wi-Fi. Blog updates, bit of FB. Then German lesson with my Babbel app (excellent and highly recommended, well worth the money, only £50 for a year for one language, 80, I think for all of them). Rang Kev, no answer,  so headed across the road to the park to enjoy the late morning sun.

You can swim in the Weißer See, and at least one person was already doing so,  with a bike left on the lakeshore mute evidence of at least one more. Then an old lady turns up, ready for going in. I asked her (in German) if the water was cold, and she said no, it’s lovely, you should come in for a swim. I was stuck on the word for ‘swimming costume’, so mimed when saying I had none,  but, as highly suspected,  this is Germany, and such things are not required! The old lady certainly wasn’t bothering. I bloody love the Germans for their matter of fact attitude to nudity (etc! ). I was tempted, but had my worldly goods in my rucksack, and had to go soon (Kev had got back to me, recovering from post-gig random punk gig hangover, on his way in half an hour).

Spent a couple of hours at the flat, talking about the renovation work, what he’s done/found out so far, what I want doing (basically, do it once, do it right! ). One room empty, but tolerable to crash in with minimalist biker camping kit. Thermarest self inflating airbed, clothes as pillows, silk sleeping bag liner (packs to half a fist sized), fleece blanket, technotowel, mini toiletries, mini kiddies toothbrush… I kind of have this shit well sorted after years of bikes and boats.

The rest of the place…  well, it needs some work…




A supposed baggage handlers strike – neatly dividing my loyalties. One part of me is the grumpy traveller, already tired from my nose-the-the-slavery-grindstone, servicing debts not quite materialised, but imminent, hovering like a front in the distance, this is just the drizzle, the overcast, the warm air… and this is a splattering shower, spoiling my smooth exit… The there’s the worker, in solidarity with my felllow-serfs, cheering them on as they stage what little fight back they can versus the powers that be… In the end, there is nothing from that action – but a normal everyday operations issue that causes me to be half an hour late, just miss the train, direct some lost Auslanders to the express train to Alexanderplatz. I get to Antonplatz and succeed in getting the guesthouse keys [Kev, who is doing the renovations, has a gig – and both sets of keys for my apartment, so I can’t get in]. My room is huge, with big bathroom, TV, couch, hallway, wardrobe… only £30 too (breakfast included). Amazing value, have had shitholes with shared bathroom and no brekkie for that…

By total chance, I run into Eva in the street, me on my way up to RabenSchwarz, she to meet Sandra and go food shopping. After a big chat, I am clearly a corrupting influence, as they both turn up at the bar later on.


Much chat, a few Club Mates for me, beer and shots for everyone else, barring Daggi, who is on the non-alcohol bier due to driving. (malt brew – must try it…). Dustyn’s the Limp Bizkit’s fan’s birthday (he doesn’t remember me at all – lol, just as drunk again tonight). Catchup with the girls, chat with someone I’d never met about geeky stuff – managed to almost leave without paying – on my god – SO SO sorry Sabine! Taxi back to Weissensee, early night (2am).

The thing that’s most notable is that, despite long day and delays, as soon as I get on that train at the airport – I relax, I feel like me, the new me, the one I am becoming…


Fantasy Lifestyle: Shopping in Knightsbridge


Yes darling, let’s go to Harrods! It’s been simply AGES… I’ll get the boy to bring the car round to the main driveway – which of the Ferraris do you fancy today?  The goldplated one? Super! Shall we call your other guitarist, see if he wants to come with? What, he’s got a gig in Leicester Square – oh what a bore. Never mind, his loss.

Some choccies for me,  bottle of Scotch for you… Ah ha,  just what we needed,  life sized stuffed polar bear. And that diamond and ruby rat necklace, to die for…  Ooh,  look, a kiddies car,  only 20k, and there’s a darling little hovercraft. Just the thing for the new lake we are having put in! No, they can’t have one each, they’ll just have to share. I know, Thorfinn will scream, but I’ve told him and little Brunhilde so many times – one must’nt be greedy…

Hmm,  might be a bit chilly on the drive home drive home – Ah, perfect little biker / naval jacket thing to go with the car, just the ticket- not even £6,000, total bargain…


Fantasy Lifestyle: Festival Headliners


[* top photo cunningly edited by Chris Nevard]

Fantasy vs reality – which do you prefer? Festival headliners, how about that? Next we’ll all be having gold plated Ferraris …


Crickfest – sea shanties, one armed guitarists better than I’ll ever be, the drunken dismasting of a sandpit, dodgy power rebooting amps back to clean, beer, good cause; good bands; good noodles- and us, headlining. Just enough juice from the backup gennie to run some lights – rock so powerful that even the woman in the wheelchair danced.

Good night – goodnight.