"Lairy fights, that's right!"

bid goodnight to who you were
and dream the path where she's a ghost
keep her memory close
the way she'd hold the image you've become
only speak her secret name
to feel her judging eyes on you


richard marsh

Count your blessings...

...when they're hatched.

Or was it chickens? Something along those lines...
I've been feeling a bit better these last few days. It's either down to those shooting stars I saw (eventually) and wished upon or to the fact that the end finally is very nigh indeed. Or the fact that I'm totally ignoring that pile of 90 English tests and managing to only feel mildly guilty about it. Or the fact that I've got all my christmas cards sent and presents bought/made and that all three top exhausting courses at university are no longer on next week and that now really all that's left to do for me is to sit through three more days of showing completely-christmas-unrelated movies to hyperactive pupils and handing round cookies. (FYI, it's "The NeverEnding Story" for the little ones and "Juno" for the bigger ones - although, now that I think about it: a 16-year-old girl getting pregnant does have a christmassy touch to it, doesn't it?)

Besides, it's pretty hard to feel down when you wake up to this:

Anyway, there's still some more crochet work to finish, which - laugh all you want - has a kind of soothing and therapeutical effect on me. Especially when accompanied by "Little Lord Fauntleroy", "A Christmas Carol" and "Little Women" in the background...

Now, spot the quote: "Evangeline and I will make you some ginger tea."

:-)

A case for escapism.

In keeping with the mood of the last few weeks,
here's another lullabye to tide you over til the weekend.
And you never know,
sooner or later you might come to believe it:

Everything is alright.

So many things I would have done...

...but clouds got in my way.

Could someone please push the clouds away? Like, right now? Just for, say, one hour during the next 13 hours?
It's Geminids night, for heaven's sake! Which means that behind that blanket of clouds there's a meteor shower party going on in the sky with 50 to 80 meteors per hour. And I haven't been invited. Booh.
Well, maybe you have been asked? If you have, will you please, please watch the nightsky for me for just 5 minutes? The meteors should have their "starting point" near Castor (that's the upper one of the two bright ones in that parallelogram just "left" of Orion...ehm, you do know Orion, right?).
So, please watch out for some shooting stars - It's such a waste if they happen and no one is there to watch and make a wish. And if you happen to have one to spare, wish upon one for me too, will you? What's that? What kind of wish? Ooh, can't tell you, can I? Just make it up as you go along...
Let me know how it went.

I'm not going out there...

Well, what are you still doing up and about?
Shouldn't you be in bed by now?
Oh, alright, I'll come and tuck you in.
Yes, okay, a bedtime story it is.
Just the one though.
Now, close your eyes and sleep tight!
Nightnight.

Memory effect.

You know how you're supposed to always let the battery of your mobile, cordless phone, mp3-player etc. run completely empty until recharging it? So that when you recharge it, you charge it fully? Because otherwise the memory capacity of it will wear down?
Well, mine is worn down good and proper.
As of today I appear to be at the point where I don't last the week any longer. Wednesday, 5pm (in the middle of my piano lesson) definitely is way too early for my battery to keel over and die on me. It used to last until Friday round noon, the way it's supposed to. Then I had a good few weeks where I made it through til Thursday noon, which gave me a couple of hours to catch up on sleep before heading out again. So now we're down to Wednesday. I only just made it home, closed the door behind me, changed into my pyjamas straight away (because once I'm on my bed, like now, I'll never manage to get up again) and burst into tears from pure exhaustion. Nothing else, really, nothing extraordinary happened.
I'm very simply beat. It's an actual job to lift my fingers to type. And I guess I should just turn off the lights and go to sleep, but you see, that's not the way it works. It's not only hours of sleep my body screams to catch up on but also hours of "time off". Because if I go to sleep too soon, the next thing my mind will register is "What? It's the start of another working day already??? This can't be right. I've only just come home from work!"
That just won't do.
All this just won't do.
But there's nothing really to cut back on. (And believe me, I looked hard.)
So, I am deeply grateful for small mercies - like the fact that I accompany the Third Years to the museum tomorrow instead of teaching... - and pray for the next two weeks to pass in a trance!

...how I wonder what you are.

I've really been meaning to post about today's events, but somehow for the last (quite a few) minutes I've found myself staring at this photo of the Pleiades. I just can't take my eyes off it. I find it oddly soothing.

Also, it makes me want to live in a place where I can see the stars properly and not just those thirtyodd ones that make it through the neverceasing glow of the city. Oh, and while we're at it, it also makes me want to live in a place where it doesn't constantly rain, so that I might actually get an unblocked view of said perfect night sky.

Anyway, there they are, the seven sisters. And as if I didn't have anything else to do, I spent the last hour reading up on star clusters and trying to figure out how to pronounce names like Alcyone, Celaeno, Taygeta and Merope. (Ooh, also, did I mention how I love it when I track down yet another of J.K.Rowling's name sources?! I guess if I knew my Greek mythology just a tad better, I wouldn't be quite so surprised.)

Wow, look at me - all studious on a Sunday night... Gee, all this reading about new stuff made me kinda tired, guess I better call it a day.
Rightyho: hands up: who's going to finish (sorry, start and finish) tomorrow's coursework for me?

Marking time. Or: Me and Godot = BFF!

I find I don't have much to say lately. I'm tired and moody and tired and headachey and tired and melancholic. Oh, and sometimes I'm tired. Well, actually I've been feeling this way all through November, so thank God this one is over at last! Bring on December, the month with the longest nights, shortest days and far too much nougat and gingerbread on the supermarket shelves... Things are bound to be brightening up in December, aren't they?

See, I'm doing it again! I hate this whing(e?)y-whin(e?)y me! And the worst thing about it all is that this bad-mood thing actually manages to drown out the good stuff that's been happening. Just as well then that the good stuff has been fairly thin on the ground, so not too much was wasted on me... See?? I'm doing it again! Jeez, I need therapy. Or sunlight. Or sleep. Or a holiday...

Ah, yes, holiday! That's the one! The good stuff.
I am going on holiday.
To London.
In February.
(Which is way too far away but right after my intermediates, plus the bonus of leaving the Rhineland over the Carnival weekend - which for most other (note how I didn't say "normal"? - wouldn't want to be kicked out permanently now, would I?!) people is the Valentine weekend by the way, but I'm not too keen on that one either.)
The flights were dead cheap. No, actually even cheaper than that. I'll definitely burn in CO2-hell for this, but, God, I can't wait!!! And I know that everyone says this kind of stuff all the time, but honestly: I can't wait!!!

Now all we need to find is a good, clean, central and cheap hotel. In London. Bahahahaaa...
See, that cheered me right up.

Hide in your shell.

Once again I have to borrow someone else's words.
They just do it so much better than me.
And I'm too tired for much else anyway.
So...
"What do you need - a second-hand movie star to tend you?"
(yep, time for another season of "Friends" it is...)

The light at the beginning of the tunnel.

Every evening after classes I cycle back to the train station, then walk down the length of the one platform to reach the tunnel that takes me back up to the other platform (architectural genius at work there).
Every evening without fail, at the exact moment when I reach the end of the platform and am just about to enter the tunnel, the streetlight right above me flickers and goes out.
This has been going on for weeks now. It doesn't matter which train I take, one hour later or earlier - the lamp is working, then, as soon as I pass by, it isn't.
I mean, it's not that I'm superstitious or anything... I'm just saying...
Go figure.
...
On a brighter note, for the last few nights in a row, as I was leaving the tunnel at my home train station (Das Bonner Loch - one of the most ugly, hostile, dirty, neon-lighted, noisy, homelessy, desolate places I can think of anywhere), there was a blackbird singing in a strong, clear, voice in the bare branches of the tree just outside. It made me turn around and (thereby) stop and annoy all the other commuters on their way home.
Incidentally, a blackbird's song was also the first sound I heard this morning waking up - well, after the alarm clock that is. It was right outside my window, tiding over that no man's land between night and dawn for me.
Profound symbolic readings featuring darkness and light and signs of desperation and hope are jostling and shoving and clamouring for my attention.
But I'll leave you to it.

Just a moment.

Life is but a string of moments.
So if you have a moment to spare, watch.

...dann halt ein Lied.

Nur der Tisch,
der ist von Ikea,
der sieht aber nicht nach Ikea aus...

Molière und ich.

Der November gibt sich auch weiterhin alle Mühe.
Gestern 90min. Kleinkrieg mit ver-/gestörtem Fünftklässler. Klassen, in denen zum Teil bis zu 14 Kinder fehlen. Ein Mädchen, das erst fehlt, dann wieder auftaucht und dann wieder fehlt, diesmal mit der Zusatzinfo "Verdacht auf you-know-what".
Dann stinkende, wankende, tuchfühlungbegeisterte, alkoholisierte Piraten, Bibos, Pharaonen, Bezaubernde Jeanies, Frösche und Hippies in den Zügen, die meinen an St. Martin Karneval feiern zu müssen (Und kein einziger als St. Martin verkleidet! ...Bin ich hier wirklich richtig im Rheinland??).

Heute Spaß auf dem Bonner Hauptbahnhof:
"Wichtiger Sicherheitshinweis: Aufgrund eines herrenlosen Gepäckstücks fordern wir alle Reisenden auf, das Bahnhofsgelände umgehend zu verlassen."
Allgemeines verwirrt-genervtes Rumstehen direkt vor dem Bahnhof (wie zweckmäßig) - keine Absperrungen, keine ordnenden Polizisten in Sicht. Irgendwann bewegt sich der Pulk wieder rein und alle folgen. Weiteres Rumstehen am Gleis, weil der Zug nu natürlich dicke Verspätung hat (Wieso? - Ja, wieso nicht?!).
Ein vereinzelter Mann vom Ordnungsamt murmelt in sein Funkgerät "Hier sind Hunderte von Leuten auf Gleis 1, da brauchen wir Verstärkung zum Räumen." Man hofft, dass der Zug vor den Räumtrupps ankommt und übersetzt mal wieder für ausländische potentielle Fahrgäste ins Englische, was denn eigentlich gerade Phase ist, denn offensichtlich ist die Evakuierungsdurchsage noch nicht ins Sänk-ju-for-träwellink-Handbuch aufgenommen worden.
Immerhin: die Frau, die die Durchsagen macht, ist auch nicht geräumt worden und sie schafft es unseren Zug anzukündigen. Man möchte Beifall spenden, hält sich dann aber doch zurück.

All das, um dann schließlich kurz vor knapp nach hektischem Geradel durch den Dämmerungsnieselregen in der Uni zu erfahren, dass die Veranstaltung heute ausfällt und mir aber niemand Bescheid gesagt hat (obwohl/weil ich letzte Woche gefehlt hatte und die anderen sehr wohl informiert waren).

Von den viel zu vielen ignoranten Menschen auf den viel zu engen Gehwegen ganz zu schweigen. Denen, die es nie in Betracht ziehen, sich dem Fluss der Masse auch nur einen Hauch anzupassen, voraus- und auf die anderen zu schauen, minimal auszuweichen, um andere nicht abzudrängen, ihren Schirm ein winziges Stück zu heben oder zu neigen, um den Gegenverkehr nicht zu behindern... Hat man diese Leute heute alle zum ersten Mal zur Feierabendzeit auf die Straße gelassen??? Ist ihnen dieser theoretisch sehr gut mögliche Anpassungs-und-Ausweich-Reigen gänzlich unbekannt oder halten sie sich schlicht für etwas Besseres?
Und bin nur ich das, die dieser Egozentrismus wahnsinnig macht?

Novembäääh!r.

What can I say?

It's dreary, drizzly, dismal, dragging-on, dark, dumb, dull, daunting November and I'm miserable and fed up with everything.

So there.
I told you we'd get to the point when I'd eat my words about liking autumn. Liking autumn - pah!

Looking forward to the Christmas holidays though. Although, better make that the middle of February (intermediates over, hols from uni).
Yeah, that'll be miles better.
Only...what?...14 weeks til then. Piece o' cake.

What??? You mean only 12 weeks until the exams???

Cue onset of new panic attack...

Was ist Pragmatismus?

Das ist Pragmatismus.

Beppo Straßenkehrer.

"Weißt du, Momo, es ist so:
Manchmal hat man eine sehr lange Straße vor sich. Man denkt, die ist so schrecklich lang; das kann man niemals schaffen, denkt man. Und man fängt an sich zu eilen. Und man eilt sich immer mehr. Jedes Mal, wenn man aufblickt, sieht man, dass es gar nicht weniger wird, was noch vor einem liegt. Und man strengt sich noch mehr an. Man kriegt es mit der Angst und zum Schluss ist man ganz außer Puste und kann nicht mehr. Und die Straße liegt immer noch vor einem.
So darf man es nicht machen.
Man darf nie an die ganze Straße auf einmal denken, verstehst du? Man muss nur an den nächsten Schritt denken, an den nächsten Atemzug, an den nächsten Besenstrich. Und immer wieder nur an den nächsten.
Dann macht es Freude. Das ist wichtig. Dann macht man seine Sache gut."

Michael Ende

Scary movies.

This blog post/article made me think about all the movies that, as a child, scared the living daylights out of me. And I definitely have to concur with the author that, oh yes, The NeverEnding Story and The Wizard of Oz are way up there on top of the list!

Think of the Wicked Witch of the West, her Flying Monkeys, the Swamps of Sadness, the Nothing and Gmork and I doubledare any child not to end up having nightmares. As for the truly scary, disturbing stuff, I somehow must have stumbled across this 1986 cartoon at far too young an age. I guess I thought since it was a cartoon it was children's material. Oh, how wrong! For years the words "When the wind blows" gave me the creeps and the picture of that elderly couple arm in arm in their garden is still firmly imprinted on my mind...

To do To da y.

• Catch the train to Cologne.
• Go to percussion class.
• Grab a practice room for two hours and pretend to be hard-working.
• Find something edible from the faculty cafeteria for lunch.
• Go to Aldi and search for bring-along-to-a-staff-party-buffet-apt food that doesn't need preparing (no time and no stop-by at home for that) ...hm, um... grapes???
• Convince that prof in the 4pm class that really, reeeaaaally I don't need to do an "orientation" teaching pratice, because I've been doing the damn job for 3 1/2 years now, and if I was in any way uncertain about whether teaching really is the thing for me, I probably would have noticed by now...
• Leave the 4pm class early without pissing the prof off...
• ...in order to go to a last minute rehearsal for that girl in whose singing exam tomorrow I have the questionable honour of filling in for her duet partner.
• Drop off my bike, meet two colleagues and go to the staff party.
• Have fun and not fall asleep.
  

Having a memory over for tea.

There's definitely a million other things I should be doing right now, and I will in a minute, but isn't it strange how in the biggest chaos you still find the time to do something completely unmeditated and strange?
I stumbled across a corny, old and almost forgotten French chanson on youtube and the memories came flooding back in giant rolling waves - the school exchange with a French school 15, 16 years ago, all those big emotions, the drama, the heartbreak... Ah, we had a fabulous time...
Somehow I got the idea into my head that by now - all postal addresses long out-of-date - the general networking hype should have made it quite possible that some of these French people are hanging around the internet as well. A friend supplied some of their second names and I spent some happy hours sieving through facebook and even one French facebooky-type site - and I actually managed to unearth two guys. ...And the most amazing part for me was that they actually wrote back!
You see, back then, my French was, ah well, let's say rudimentary (now it's not even that), as was their German, so looking back I've always wondered how we managed to communicate at all. (The answer being, of course, we didn't. ...Well, the non-verbal parts of communication seemed to do the job...) So it was something of a revelation to be able to write and chat fluently now, in English, thank God for that! For the first time we actually understood completely what the other one was saying - why, isn't that something!
Apart from that, the strangeness knows no boundaries. I am well aware that in a sense I might just as well have written to some total stranger and gone "Hey, I like your picture. Tell me what you did those last 15 years!" But in another sense it felt so very natural to hear them talk about their lives, quite familiar, in a way.
In any case it cheered me up big time and I could really use that!

It's calm under the waves.

All is fixed.

My flat, my laptop, my bike lights...

So, in keeping with the folklore that if things around you are clean and orderly, your mind can feel so too, I guess I expected to feel - I don't know, a bit more serene now.
Instead, there's this big wave of so many things (mainly uni/work/music/exam-related) breaking right over me and I'm being pulled under and spluttering and gasping for air. I should have anticipated its course and swum out to meet it further out in the ocean, should have got behind its eventual breaking point before it became too big. But I just wide-eyed watched it come closer and closer and building up higher.
So now it's up to me to tread water like mad and push upwards again to escape the swirls of angry salt water and sand and foam and come back up for air. You know that sensation, right, when you're still so disoriented you wonder which side is up? My own recommendation would always be to swim towards the sunlight glistening through the water, but that's pretty hard to do when the salt burns your eyes and squeezes them shut.

* * *
Thank God there's an appropriate soundtrack for every occasion.
* * *
...and now I better get some work done. Start with something easy, non-terrifying...ehm...

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

And if it is broke, fix it, dammit!!!

...and it is well and truly broken, believe me...

Guess what?! The painter guy didn't put down the new laminate after all. Turns out the sink is still slightly leaking, so he decided he better didn't touch anything lest my landlord decided to put the blame on him later (Good thinking, I grant him that.)...

Then the landlord and a plumber guy came into my flat while I was at uni today and I came home to this:

They had simply uninstalled the sink! What a simple but brilliant feat: If there is no sink, the sink cannot leak. (I bow my head in awe in the face of such masterminding.)

Meanwhile I rescheduled with the painter/laminate guy for tomorrow morning and got the plumber's number off my landlord so that he might come one of these days and put the sink back (and hopefully fix it too, why, wouldn't that be something!) once the laminate finally got laid (bahaha, that lucky bitch! ...ehm, sorry!).

I enjoyed about three minutes of triumph at having managed to organise this whole, god-forsaken circus. Then I realized...

...that that weird carpet underneath the old laminate (kept in place because Scrooge wouldn't cough up for a new floor...) is in fact still soaking wet! Well, maybe not as bad as last summer, but definitely damp. It dried off reasonably well back then. But it's the end of October now, so there's a fat chance that carpet will ever dry at all now and I somehow don't fancy living in a building site for much longer. So let the laminate people come - the worst that'll happen is they remove the old laminate, then disappear again to let the carpet dry some more. It's not as if this place can look any more chaotic...

Or can it???

tbc...

P.S. What's that? You're wondering why neither landlord nor plumber noticed the wet carpet this afternoon when they removed the sink? You think a plumber should recognize a leak when he sees one? Well, you'd think so, wouldn't you?!

Alles ist Sternenstaub.

Morgen früh kommt der Maler (wer sonst?), der mir - nur 3 kurze Monate nach dem Rohrleck-Land-unter-Zwischenfall - das Laminat im Küchendrittel meiner Wohnung neu legen soll. Zu diesem Zweck muss das Küchendrittel geräumt sein. Ähm, nur wohin räumt man den Inhalt einer Küche in einer Einzimmerwohnung? Das war so nicht vorgesehen.

Und darüber hinaus habe ich ein bisschen Angst, weil ich mich zu erinnern meine, dass vor meinem Einzug hier ja güst das Laminat (zurechtgesägt und) verlegt worden war und alles von der Bodenleiste bis zur letzten Heizkörperritze mit einer 5mm dicken Holzstaubschicht bedeckt war. Und das geht ja mal gar nicht!

Da müssten die Männer aber ne Menge Abdeckfolie mitbringen, wenn sie gedenken hier in der Wohnung auch nur ein einziges Brett durchzusägen! Oder wahlweise ein Umzugsunternehmen, einen Lagerraum und für mich einen Hotelgutschein und abschließend eine Putzfee. Denn ich geh morgen früh in die Uni und wehe, hier liegt bei meiner Heimkehr morgen Abend auch nur ein Staubkörnchen mehr als jetzt...

* * *

Aber vielleicht denke ich da auch zu klein:

Vista's a bitch.

Um, just very quickly: Can anyone remind me what I used to do to fill the hours before there was this interwebthingy here? No, not that. I mean obviously I must have done things like reading, playing/singing/writing/listening to music, eating, going out, doing stuff... But I still do all of that so there must be that bit of extra time that came out of thin air for the simple purpose of being filled with emailing, facebooking, blogging, youtubing, blogrolling, sucking you down into the world of dependency... you know... (Well, if you don't, good for you, just be very careful: You are reading a blog as we - well, I - speak!)

See, the reason I ask is that...(trembling lower lip)... my laptop is dying on me! It's been acting up on occasion lately, refusing to start, pretending not to recognize its own battery, then suddenly being fine about it all again, feigning innocence. Yesterday, however, it gave off all the signs of a real nervous breakdown - it took me 13 attempts, one thanks-for-nothing windows-boot-up-repair-programme and a 14th attempt to persuade it to start at all - and those were some scary two hours, I can tell you! It was Friday afternoon and apart from all the usual see-above internet stuff I always do, I had planned on finishing that bloody ancient paper, with a weekend of unwinding in front of a good few BBC miniseries (or something, I'm not fuzzy when it comes to light entertainment) afterwards and in between. Fat chance on all counts.

Well, it decided to work eventually (staring at me with that accusing, you-don't-understand-me, blotchy-faced look - or am I just imagining that?), but what do I do now??? My brother-in-law promised to sedate it sometime next week, kill its evil Vista heart and transplant a good-ol', reliable XP one, but until then? I left it on all through last night, but I intend to leave the house at some stage today and don't feel comfortable doing so with electric equipment still running. (Is this what it's like to have a sick dog/elderly parent to mind??)

So, it's really just a question of overcoming my internet obsession and switching off this thing (or I might have nothing to eat next week, if I don't go shopping).

Go on, press the button, you can do it!

(whimpering slowly fades out...)

Work in Progress 2.

Well, it seems as if I won't be coming up with a more elaborate version anytime soon, so I might as well post the "Damsel in Distress" as she is. You know the deal (crappy sound quality etc.), also the melody is ever so slightly too deep for my voice, I'll have the composer keep that in mind next time round...

The universe has an attitude, mom!

After a night of dreams that were about as elusive as this one(I blame the mulled wine last night), I woke up with a strange, sinking feeling of uneasiness. Which was an awful waste especially today since I had been given an unexpected day off and could have slept in. I guess I have to blame the first week back at university. So here's what I worried about for a while round 6am, then again at 8am:

• Should I really sit my intermediate exams this winter as planned? For starters, I'm slightly (ha!) behind schedule with the requisite work - they want a rather complex portfolio thingy and have a required-reading list from here to the moon...
• Should I really do my practical intermediate exams this winter (piano, singing) as planned?
• Aren't I too bad for piano as major in the long run? No, really. Because, the standards for that are way up there in the clouds, all the examiners are pianists as well (and so quite ehm, observant...) and I've been noting for a while now that my progress is waaaaaay slow and maybe just a tad too time-consuming in view of the results...
• Shouldn't I maybe instead ask my singing teacher whether he thinks me at all capable to be majoring in singing instead? Which I am not at the moment, I've started classes far too recently for that, but in contrast to piano, singing would be more a question of talent (whether my voice is up to it) and of a good deal less practising. By comparison, I mean. But if I did that, I'd have to postpone my intermediates for sure in order to catch up, so I'm none the wiser timewise.
• Will I be able to fit in those pedagogic classes that I've been given at all at the same time?
• Oh, yes, there's school, too! Now that you mention it...
• Is the reason for the slight dizziness I feel thinking about all this a hint that maybe I am taking on too much? Or am I just being lazy and need to get my act together, get into an effective work mode?

"Make up your mind!"

Well, looks like the universe is giving out unasked-for advice. And it even cut in on my "Yes, but I don't know, you see..."

" You know everything."

What I sure do know now is that the universe doesn't like whiners.

So there.

Welcam tu mei worlt.

I thought you might be dying to know what fun it is to mark 80 English tests in three days. You see, the tricky part is to keep the balance between the boring-but-quick-to-mark multiple choice questions and fill-in-the-gaps-texts and the hilarious-but-tedious-to-correct free-writing exercises... Rule of thumb: Never (!) more than one free-writing exercise per test. You'll laugh heartily and then fall into a stupor, unable to decide where to put the red pen first...

So here goes:

What can I say? I love how he addressed his grandma by her full name, but then signs "in love"...hmmm. What's behind that, I wonder? And the sliiightly challenging "You are sad?" (Huh, are you? Are you???) - masterpiece of rhetoric.

Then there's the indecisive one. But once he got the hang of it, the answers just seemed to pour out of him: No, but yeah, but no, but yeah...

Ohh, drama! The imaginary new classmate Elizabeth is of the evil kind! I hate her already.

no i'm did'n either


And finally, a special treat before sending y'all off to bed: A colleague (P.E. teacher) was fuming over this "extra assignment" he gave to one of our all-time-favourite students after he'd been disruptive during P.E. class (the student, not the teacher. Although, come to think of it...). Ah, I just realized, it's in German, so why do I even bother explaining? Anyway, the colleague thought it was impertinent. Which it is, without a doubt, but hilarious too. Well played!

Big, big world.

I am currently rereading Bill Bryson's "A short history of nearly everything" and once again find it mind-boggling. It makes me wish I was just that little bit cleverer (or had paid just a tad more attention during science classes) to be able to wrap my mind around things like subatomic particles, spacetime or the Theory of Relativity. Because I have the slight suspicion that it's fascinating stuff, only my brain is merely scratching at the surface of what this universe is all about (with a blunt, crooked tea spoon). Well, at least thanks to Mr Bryson it's still fun to read about things you don't even begin to understand, so I can only recommend him to anyone who's ever looked out at a night sky and wondered...

Somehow I find it very comforting to know that others don't get "it" (you know, life, the universe and all the rest) either. Even if it's just a comic strip character.

Party time.

We rummaged around in old photos for my mum's up-coming birthday party and came across this, amongst others. I just love this picture. If I should ever be coerced to take part in the Rhineland Carnival again (but I'm saying my prayers), I will definitely dress up as...well, what is that costume, mum? A tin can for a hat and a dress over woollen trousers? Wild... Anyway, that'll be me next February. Looks like everyone was having a fantastic time. Ehm, well...

Another night. Another lullabye.

Well, while I can't seem to be able to get any of the very many oh-so-funny youtube videos I'd like to show you to come up as a pretty little screen right here (Geez, honestly, what does it take? I tried every single button a gazillion times... Beats me. Must be my job rubbing off...) - I've been tempted to try if I can make any video at all appear round here.

Et voilà, mesdames et messieurs, I give you:

The Hands and the Voice! (Daa-da-da-daaaah!)

Yet another gem for the aficionados of olden-times sound "quality" (used in the loosest possible sense), this time, with the charming clicketyclack of my piano thrown in for good measure. Donations towards a new one will be much appreciated.

No, you don't actually have to listen to it (more than twice - actually, you mightn't have to listen to it at all, if the slowness of the progress-in-uploading beam is anything to go by), but a girl's gotta try this stuff out at some stage. And something tells me you don't want to see any of my 207 holiday videos...

I'd have liked to "show" you my latest hit, but I haven't managed to record an I'm-happy-with-it version of it yet. This was one of my first ever songs, so be nice. (Which translates as: Shower me with praise. Any criticism? Write it down, then throw it in the bin!)

Lullabye.

And so, without (too much) further ado, to bed. Too late once more, I know I'll be sorry in the morning, but I can't seem to find a decent rhythm these days, what with three really very early and four rather late mornings...

So, in the hope that Billy will lull me to sleep:

* * *

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhxeOaFe7hc&feature=related

* * *

...the water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart...

Jesus knows where your house lives.

No big news, but a day of totally aim- and mostly useless browsing brought forth some obvious new favourites of mine...

* * *

http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/2009/09/07/and-jesus-said-oh-snap/

* * *

Variations on the theme (5).

Unbefuckinglievable!!!

Really, I don't get these people. How do they do it? How can they look into the mirror without wanting to slap themselves in the face? (Actually, I hope they do. Every single time. Seeing as I can't be there to do it for them.)

Yeah, you've already guessed it: still no money for Mary. But it's much worse now because not only won't I be getting the second half of my August paycheck anytime soon, I also won't be seeing any September money either the way things are not moving right now. And on top of that I can't even hold out that little bit of hope for a quick miracle (i.e. someone in that bloody office doing their effing job for once!) any longer because I have just talked to the topmost bitch from hell and she's having a bad week.

...right...deep breaths...

See, since my last update about these fascinating goings-on, our school secretary has done everything to get someone from the School Board to please, please forward my contract (once more) to the Salaries Office - since I wasn't allowed to do it myself, it had to go the official way - and lo and behold, after just ten days she had received the reply that the person responsible had already sent that contract in mid-July but would fax it to the Office once again at once. Well, we only have their word for it, but they really seemed to have done it because they also recommended me getting in touch with the Salaries people myself again in order to kick their a...ehm, to speed up the process.

Which I did.

After many, many engaged tones and then many, many more unengaged tones this woman deigned to answer the phone. It was, however, not my very favourite contact person but someone else. When I enquired after my chances of seeing some of my money anytime in the near future her voice went all doleful and suffering and she told me how my contact person was off sick and so many other people from her department were too and how, no, the contract hadn't arrived yet, although no, scratch that, she just didn't know if it had arrived yet because they are just snowed under with work there and she just wasn't going to make any more promises because she just didn't know who was dealing with my data now and blablabla.

I interrupted her speech four times and asked her how she thought I was going to pay my next rent (or anything else for that matter), but she just went on whining and ignored my questions. No, I couldn't do anything to speed up things. No, she couldn't either. I might want to try calling again next Wednesday. By which time the September paychecks are well under way. Not mine though.

* * *

[...]

Oooooooh, yeah, I'm taking it all back!!! No, actually, I'm not, that woman is still an impossible, incapable, incompetent excuse for a civil servant (yes, I do know: the cliché of it!), but I tricked her! (fist punching air) I rang her again, got through on the fifth go and asked her - veeery nicely - if she could tell me who was responsible for me now and if she couldn't do so to give me her superior's number. Her boss answered her phone just now, fourth go, and she was absolutely lovely! Friendly, patient, great sense of humour, interested (I might just ask her to marry me..), went through all imaginable inboxes to dig up my contract, found it (!), and with just three mouse clicks sent all (!) of my money on the way. Should be there next week.

Just like that.

I'm so...so...grateful!!! (That's how they do it: treat you like shit for three months so that when eventually someone treats you with respect again, you can't believe your good luck. My, they're good at what they do.)

Although, now that I know how simple the whole thing was - open an email attachment with contract, click thrice for payment to be authorized, done! - I am even more furious at all those waaaaaaaah (insert expletives) clerks who didn't invest these three minutes during the last 6 weeks. Just because they could.

* * *

Right. Off to spend some money!

* * *

Variations bound to be continued in March = end of contract. Can't wait. Then again, now I have the superior's number, I feel really powerful. Sort of.

Product Placement.

Beim dm meines Vertrauens hat ja jeder noch so abwegige Klüngel sein eigenes, riesiges Regal. Dort breiten sich dann die 39 total verschiedenen Ausführungen des Produktes aus und werben um meine Kaufkraft. Alles ist an seinem Platz, fein säuberlich in seiner zugehörigen Kategorie: Haarpflege, Handcremes, Körperlotion, Deos, Kindernahrung, Öko-Essen... - Im Leben nicht würde sich da eine Handcreme ins Körperlotionsregal verirren, Gott bewahre! Und das ist ja auch ganz sinnvoll so, erleichtert es doch dem nur sporadischen dm-Besucher die Suche... Hat sich wer was bei gedacht.

Denkt man.

Bis man vor dem Regal zu stehen kommt, das - viel kleiner als alle anderen - etwas stiefmütterlich an die Seite gedrängt wurde.

Oberste Reihe: Kondome.

Mittlere Reihe: Ohrstöpsel.

Untere Reihe: Biovital/Doppelherz.

...

Ob man sich aus dem Regal einen Präsentkorb zusammenstellen lassen kann? Ich dachte da so an frisch gebackene Pärchen (obere und untere Reihe) und deren Nachbarn (mittlere Reihe).

Oder für den schmaleren Geldbeutel nur das Ohropax (wenn aufgrund der fehlenden Kondome dann irgendwann der Nachwuchs nächtens schreit...)? Extrem glücklich machen würden mich auch diverse Kombi-Angebots-Schilder am Regal à la "Buy one, get one free!"

...Ah, so viele Möglichkeiten, so wenig Zeit!

Zu schade, dass dm keine Kategorien-Bezeichnungen über den Regalen hängen hat. Ich zermartere mir seit Tagen den Kopf, was da dann stünde. Hiermit sei der Bezeichnungswettbewerb ausgeschrieben! Und wo wir schon dabei sind: Ist das ein humoriger Moment meines lokalen Marktleiters gewesen oder ist diese Produktmélange dm-deutschlandweit - oder gar per Drogeriekettenproduktanordnungsgesetz vorgeschrieben?

Into the pensieve.

It's been a weird weekend. I was back home at my parents' and somehow every little thing, person, activity and instance seemed to be shouting at me to remember, to look back into my childhood.

There was the annual big jumble sale stretching all over our neighbourhood right outside our front door, and, naturally, I bumped into people I once used to know left, right and centre. And even without those people, those rows and rows of stalls packed with stuff that makes up other people's pasts to me always give off a whiff of melancholy - all those discarded children's clothes, skates, books, abandoned dolls and teddy bears, those countless, inevitably short-lived "hip" toys, record players, first-generation mobile phones, one-hit-wonder CDs, ski suits, schoolbags, unspeakably ugly raffle prizes... - you can assemble whole lives just by looking at the displays.

Then that same evening the people from our street, 16 houses in all, were celebrating the 30th anniversary of their being neighbours (think beer tent and barbecue) and I think I can safely say that's been the strangest social event I have attended in a long, long time. One of the neighbours had prepared a slide show featuring the highlights of three decades which, after a few pictures of the houses being built, seemed to be one long string of weddings, birthdays, silver weddings, neighbourhood outings and more birthdays. Which was nice (in a sliiightly boring way), but at the same time I couldn't help but look around me and, by way of a quick head-count, realize how quite a few of those appearing in the happy pictures are no longer around to see them...

And of course there is only so much small talk you can think of with people who have "known" you all your life, but whom you haven't spoken to in 11 years, and even then it was mostly a "Hello there!" called across the street.

Thankfully some others of the "kids generation" were at the party as well, and it was actually great fun to catch up with those I had last spoken to when we still knocked at each other's doors to ask "Will ... come out and play?" If I was to paint just one picture of my childhood it would probably be of us dozen or so children playing dodgeball and hide and seek in the street on a summer evening.

* * *

Apart from all that, a lot of piano playing and singing for me lately. Amongst others, this one. If anyone happens to know of a playback version of that...? My mother loves it and there's her 60th birthday party looming in a few weeks' time. Not quite sure I can master both the singing and accompaniment until then...

* * *

Is there a danger bonus for teachers?

Two colleagues of mine were on early playground duty on Friday morning - you know, the duty I'm on two days a week, shouting at the kids to please not get themselves run over when not crossing at the traffic lights? That's the one.

Well, the two women were standing at the school gate as usual, talking, one facing the playground, one facing the street/bus stop, when out of the blue two Fourth Year boys (the big baby, I-refuse-to-use-what-little-brain-I-might-have type) came charging towards them, in the middle of one of their non-stop scuffle-tussles. They either didn't see the two teachers or were unable to stop, either way, they banged with full force into the first teacher who in turn bumped her head so hard against the other one that the second woman was knocked to the ground.

She broke her left wrist which resulted in a complicated operation featuring nails and steel plates. She also broke a lumbar vertebra (Lendenwirbel - that's what the dictionary tells me it is). Now, apparently there are two ways of breaking a vertebra: the fracture pointing towards the outside, or towards the inside.

The inside being where the spinal marrow is.

The spinal marrow being quite useful when it comes to walking and moving in general.

The second kind of fracture being not good at all.

Of course it's the second kind of fracture she got.

So now she's strapped to a hospital bed in a special corset for at least eight weeks and not allowed to move an inch, because any wrong movement might (and very probably would) lead to paralysis/paraplegia (Querschnittslähmung - God, I'm learning so many freaky new words today). They decided against an operation for the time being.

A colleague was on the phone to her yesterday and quoted her saying "Oh, what a nuisance. Here I am lying around, good for nothing, when there's so much to do! Some of my kids' work placement is still not sorted!"

Well, you got to worry about something, I guess.

Mit meinen heißen Tränen...

Mein (!) Lesesaal in der Albertina. Der Tisch rechts vorne war unserer...seufz.

Die heiligen Hallen...

Der Lesesaal in Köln, der niemals meiner sein wird...

Blick nach oben in Leipzig...

...und in Köln. Need I say more???
* * *

...weine ich der Albertina in Leipzig hinterher!

Ich meine, wir alle wussten, dass es eine seltene Ehre ist, in solch einer Bibliothek ein- und (in sehr regelmäßigen Abständen zum Kaffeetrinken) ausgehen zu dürfen. Aber ach! Wenn einem der krasse Unterschied so dermaßen deutlich unter die Nase und in die Wunde gerieben wird! Sehr, sehr schmerzhaft. Vielleicht muss ich mein Studium in Köln doch abbrechen... Mir tun die Augen von gestern immernoch weh!

Es ist gut.

* * *
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wp07mwpYdxs
* * *

Variations on the theme (4).

Oh, the fun just never stops, does it?

I guess I have neglected keeping you posted (haha) on the job/contract/money front since that glorious day before my holidays. Well, you are better off not knowing anyway. Just think engaged phone lines, angry emails, a helpful secretary, more engaged phone lines, some more no-follow-through emails, then eventually a condescending "under reserve" pay check for July and much, much later still - hooray - a new contract!

Now, just when I thought that those people had finally worked it out that I am - in fact always have been - still working for them, it turns out that, well, they haven't, have they? Why else would they send me a pay check for August that only covers the first sixteen (still summer holidays) days? None of it makes sense. Especially when you keep in mind that they were first declining, then promising, then showing an incredible reluctance to pay me for those holidays in the first place.

Well, private investigator me has solved the riddle. By the looks of it, the one office has still not told the other office that I have a new contract. Easy mistake to make, must be so much of a hassle to shove a piece of paper back into the house-mail - so much to do, so little time! I mean, they only had, what, 3 weeks to do that?

The best part of it: Do you know how I found out? As of this morning, my phantom contact person is no longer a phantom! She actually did answer her phone after just one hour of trying to get through! I must have caught her unawares. I sincerely hope she'll get over the shock soon.

Now the tricky bit remaining is that me sending her a duplicate of my contract to hurry things along is just not on. Instead, I had to ring my school secretary so that she can get back to that Sisyphus effort of trying to get someone from that other office on the phone (aah, groundhog day!) in order to get them to forward that same contract to the first office (far too much getting for my liking).

Easy-peasy. At this rate, I'll have my money in time to buy the bailiffs a round of drinks...

* * *

Meanwhile, my phone line is playing up. I can go online, I can ring my landline from my mobile, but I can't ring anyone myself. Go figure. To increase my chances of ever writing that bloody paper (you know, the one that was due in March), it would have been far more helpful for the internet access to go dead. Then again, oh, the withdrawal symptoms...

Totally unrelated.

Aww, ever so sorry, but by the looks of it I got that final absurdity wrong yesterday - I entirely blame the low oxygen levels in our tiny, crammed, overheated staffroom. So, in fact, the non-fire-proof firedoors are not going to be locked after all. The sensor alarm thing, however, I did not imagine. I think this means that now we will be able to escape through the new emergency doors and the alarm will go off at the same time so that our caretaker will know that we are escaping. Good for him. That, and he'll know of every single instance one of our very funny students will touch the handle in order to well...be funny.

That's so much better then. Colleagues spent the morning fantasizing about ways to move their teacher's desk in between their students and the new doors.

Can't wait.

* * *

On a completely different note, I decided that as of today it's autumn in my world. When I cycled to school this morning the air was cool and crisp and smelt of yesterday's rain and the first fallen leaves and those early, golden sunrays were hitting the tops of my favourite acacia... Yeah, sorry, I'm getting over it already. But anyone who knows how much I despise summer heat to collide with teaching (or any kind of work fullstop) can guess just how much better I love autumn. I'm a big fan of temperate climate and autumn is the only time that that coincides with no hayfever. So there. Love it. And I'm bound to be back in a couple of days to whinge about all that rain and the dark mornings...

Neverending fun!

Any non-teachers out there, never again dare to imply that teachers got it easy. I invite you to visualize the effort it takes not to scream out loud/bang your head against the wall/keel over unconscious during endless staff meetings with agendas that bring tears to your eyes:

Today's for example included:

• the building of lanterns for the St. Martin procession (That's still on Nov. 11, right? Or did they change that?)
• the organisation of the school Christmas (!) party (Outside it was 30°, for Santa's sake! Why, are the gingerbread and stollen in the stores already?)
• the election of staff representatives for some conference or other
• some other election I couldn't bring myself to follow
• oh, the swine flu, of course (Aren't you as pleased as I am that no, the cleaning crew are not asked/obliged to disinfect door handles at the end of the school day - evidentially the no.1 place of infection? But don't you worry, the city council has provided - I'd write new, but for the most part there weren't any in the first place - soap dispensers for all classrooms! WTF...)
• the discussion about whether or not it is ethical/practical to put students on breaktime toilet duty with or without a reward system (Ooh, that'll keep for another day's post, you so don't want to have missed that!)
• the motion brought forward to replace the normal handles on all classroom doors by door knobs that only open from the inside on account of higher security in case of someone running amok (Yeah, that'll really scare them off, if they have to knock politely and wait for the student nearest to the door to open up for them before they start shooting...)
• the reconstruction measures that are imposed on us to meet some obscure new fire safety requirements. Now, apparently what they're doing is knock through all the walls joining two classrooms and insert fire doors with glass panes. No, I don't know why either. I mean, apart from making any teaching next to impossible with students sticking their greasy noses against the windows and making faces at the nextdoor class, as well as providing even more background noise than there already is - my, those lucky ones with their emergency door towards the music room... - I guess they had in mind just that: additional emergency exits in case one staircase is already blocked. Now, I think you're with me that emergency doors should remain unlocked at all times? Yeah? And can you picture my students not messing about with such a door non-stop? No? Well, me neither. But hark! There's more. Today we learned that those new fire doors actually are not going to be fire-proof after all. Instead they're going to be sound-proof. (Hear, hear! So, you're going to be able to see the fire catch on to your room, but at least won't hear the nextdoor people's screaming. Neat. Much less disruptive.) Also, they are going to be locked. The emergency doors - locked. But just when you thought that, as utterly futile as all these undertakings might appear, at least there's still a slim chance of some teaching/learning taking place at some point in the future, here's the catch: The door handles are going to be equipped with a sensor alarm, which means that as soon as someone tries to push them down, a beeping noise will be set off both in the classroom and the caretaker's office which won't stop until the caretaker has come to the classroom and deactivated it. Oh, the fun will just never stop! I swear I am not kidding you...

In the schoolyard.

The other day I passed that boy with the brain tumor in the schoolyard. Well, I walk past him and 450 other kids every day, but that one day he noticed me and made eye contact. "Hey, Ms B., how you doin'?" he called out to me. - "Alright. You?" - "Want a piece of chewin' gum?" And he held a packet out to me. I took one, managed a "Why, thank you!" and he was gone.

It was so totally unexpected. I know it's silly to read too much into such a short episode, but it felt like a peace-offering. Needless to say, the next day he was back to "normal", ignoring me. I would have been surprised by anything else. Street cred at stake and all...

Thanks for the gum, mate!

* * *

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFwDEqLQ0bA

Silent days.

You know something's seriously wrong in your life when your voice sounds all hoarse and scratchy while you're leaving a message on someone's voicemail at 8pm and you realize that's because you haven't spoken to a single soul since the afternoon before.

In my defense, I have to say that a) I had both an upset stomach and a nasty headache since Wednesday night and b) I had tried to fix some going out for Friday but it hadn't worked out.

So, I spent my time from Thursday night till this morning mostly on/in my bed (which also serves as sofa/computer desk/dinner table on these occasions), mostly online doing nothing of consequence, reading a couple of pages, sleeping, checking my mail, postponing all outings, playing a few chords on the guitar, sleeping some more, trying if my stomach would be okay with a bowl of porridge, playing a song on the piano, browsing some more, wallowing, dissecting the fine line between loneliness and self-pity and rewatching Billy Connolly dvds to take my mind off things. Never mind what things exactly, by that time I couldn't have told you myself. Nor can I now. What a waste of time!

So, for future reference

• Get out more.
• If you have a day to yourself, fill it with useful/satisfying/uplifting things. Do not, I repeat not spend it online browsing through other people's lives. Bad for your eyes, bad for your back, bad for your sanity.
• Never give in to self-pity if you already have a full-blown headache.
• Get out more.

Which I will. I'm meeting some friends both tonight and tomorrow. Woohoo! Well done, me! (What a gripping life you do lead...) And as warm-up exercise why not consider a stroll down to the shops? I hear that's what normal people do...

Average day?

What I learned at school today:

• that one of my pupils was rushed into Emergency last night with we-don't-know-what. She was the one I sent home last Thursday because her symptoms were slightly (swine-)flu-ish and I didn't want to be the idiot responsible for an outbreak of that at our school. However, instead of seeing her doctor that day she went to the outdoor swimming pool. The next day she had an ear infection. She told me all this herself yesterday, at school, in her bubbly, loud, excited usual way. She seemed totally fine. I just can't figure out what happened between then and last night.
• that another girl from that class was taken home by her mother because she had cut herself all across her left arm, over and over. Again, this is a friendly, polite girl. Quiet. Well, alright, point taken.
• that a third pupil from the same class hadn't come home last night and that his parents and child psychologist were trying to track him down, so far without success.

...And those were the ones that didn't even show up!

I sometimes have to do a quick reality check whether it's a school or a (raaather special) hospital I work in... On a much happier note, I also learned something else. I happened to meet our caretaker in the office this morning and enquired after his son (one of my new pupils in Third Year) whom I had first-aided the day before. The boy was lying on the ground after breaktime, bent double and crying because he had been stung by a wasp earlier and someone had kicked him hard right where the sting was. He couldn't get up or walk properly so we picked him up and helped him inside where he got a thermal pack and a few soothing words from me (the all-purpose-medication for anything that doesn't bleed too much) before I rushed off to round up my class who meanwhile had happily run wild.

Anyway, I asked his dad how the boy was doing and the answer was "Well, not too great. But you know what, he really enjoys his English classes now. He used to hate the subject, but now he's really pleased to have you as a teacher." Of course, I had to play it down immediately and replied something stupid like "Well, I guess he's quite comfortable with having a teacher who is even more chaotic than himself..." - But, well, you know, it did feel really good to hear something like that.

Perfect days.

Hm, tricky.

Obviously a new favourite site of mine: foundmagazine.com

When in doubt...

* * *
Go gather by the humming sea
Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell,
And to its lips thy story tell,
And they thy comforters will be,
Rewording in melodious guile
Thy fretful words a little while,
Till they shall singing fade in ruth
And die a pearly brotherhood;
For words alone are certain good:
Sing then, for this is also sooth.
* * *

From: W.B. Yeats: The Song of the Happy Shepherd

Oh, wie schön ist Wuppertal!

RE7 Richtung Rheine
Ein Mann (Mitte 30, sehr korpulent, ebenso ungepflegt) kommt auf ein älteres Ehepaar zu, spricht für das ganze Abteil gut hörbar:
- Tschuldigung, ist hier noch frei?
- Ja.
- (Der Mann setzt sich.) Fahren Sie auch bis Hagen Hauptbahnhof?
- Nein.
- Ich fahre bis Hohenlimburg.
- ...
- Bis wohin müssen Sie denn fahren?
- Bis Wuppertal.
- Ach so. Ich fahre bis Hohenlimburg.
- ...
- Is warm heute, ne?
- Ja.
- Wirklich sehr, sehr warm heute.
- ...
- Sie wolln sich auch nich’ so unterhalten, ne?
- Nein.
Der Mann steht auf und geht. In der anderen Waggonhälfte:
- Ha’m Sie Lust sich zu unterhalten?
...

Hach ja, der Auftakt zu einem ereignisreichen Nachmittag. Wenige Minuten später kommt die Durchsage:
„Aufgrund eines Böschungsbrandes verzögert sich unsere Weiterfahrt Richtung Wuppertal auf unbestimmte Zeit.“
(Mist, und ich denk mir noch: Mensch, sei clever, nimm nen frühen Zug – abends soll’s ja Unwetter geben, da sind dann wieder die Gleise unterspült und alles... Jaha, im Gegenteil!)
Irgendwann hieß es dann, dass das mit den Löscharbeiten wohl noch dauere und unser Zug hier ende, bzw. nun wieder zurück nach Köln führe. „Ich empfehle Ihnen auszusteigen und mit der Schwebebahn nach Wuppertal Hauptbahnhof zu fahren und von dort zu sehen, wie Sie weiterkommen.“
Die Bevölkerung von Wuppertal-Vohwinkel war sichtlich beeindruckt, 400 schwitzende, schwer bepackte Menschen durch die Straßen ziehen zu sehen. Schön auch die Gewissheit, dass egal, wie warm es gerade draußen in der Sonne ist, es drinnen in der Bahn gleich dank großzügig aufgeheiztem Metall und 400 schweißtriefenden Leuten mindestens noch 10 Grad heißer sein wird. Aber immerhin sind wir alle gemeinsam über die Wupper gegangen, äh gefahren. Spontane Solidaritätszusammenschlüsse, biginning off bjutifull frendschipp...
Am Wuppertaler Bahnhof bekamen wir dann auch noch den RE7 Richtung Rheine, also den, der eine Stunde (plus 10 Minuten Verspätung) später fuhr. Den, der also die gleiche Strecke gekommen war, die doch angeblich so lange gesperrt sein sollte.
Wie? Ihr meint, da hätten wir ja gleich in Wuppertal-Vohwinkel bleiben und in Ruhe nen leckeren Eiskaffee trinken können, um dann eine Stunde später entspannt in den Folgezug einzusteigen??? Aber dann wäre ich doch nicht mit der Schwebebahn gefahren! Und ich hätte den Hasen und den Igel nicht kennen gelernt! Und den blinden Maulwurf! Und ich hätte nie herausgefunden, wie weich so ein großes, rotes Plüschsofa ist!