2 05 2008

Ahh, the May bankholiday weekend – no doubt instilling Ferienpanik up and down the country, so good luck.

Jackson and I did brave the supermarket tonight, sometime before the Gin and Jag hour kicked in. We needed to stock up after being in Berlin this week and take the car to be washed after a kindly bird turboshat all over it. I do wonder about the oft heard quip that we’re creatures of habit though. Take the man getting his car washed in the queue in front of us; he was waiting his turn stupidly masticating away on some gum,  and his car was perfect. It was gleaming and shiny, reflecting the constant motion of his jaw and we could only wonder if there was a long slimy streak of goo down the other side of his car which we couldn’t see. It must be a bank holiday or Friday evening thing, you finish work and you have to get your car washed no matter what. 

Berlin continued to surprise with this visit, the cloudy, overcast weather we experienced just two weeks ago has been replaced by mellow, warm rays and pavement culture has well and truly kicked off. Where else can you get a coffee and a haircut at 9pm? I was tempted to get a wash and cut there and then, just for the novelty and because I find washing my hair a chore, but I realized I like hearing the stories of my current hairdresser, especially the tales of her ‘staffy’ dog who ate glass after her boyfriend smashed his shaving mirror because he couldn’t get his contact lens in. Ahh, staffies, the well loved breed of middle-England.


Flying in and out of Berlin was almost a first class experience this time too. We risked a different budget airline and stepping into the departure lounge on the way back was like entering a veritable, orange paradise; no more half hour queues to the check-in, only to have to turn exactly 180 degrees, step forward one pace and then join the security line in almost exactly the same spot. 


Here’s a snippet of an overheard conversation from a toilet cubicle (true story):

“Your poo is very NAUGHTY, not coming out. You’ll HAVE to do your poo, you’ve got a very NAUGHTY POO not coming out.”

Recipient no doubt scarred for life and at 30 will develop a bizarre fetish, leaving him in a soho dungeon lying under someone else’s buttocks. 


And on a lighter note, we spotted a pushchair with the brandname “Quinny” emblazoned on it today, possibly that’s up there with the “Lolita” bed. 




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