Keep away from the chickens

The whole ‘bird flu - how scared should we be?’ debate rages on. I have met people who have stocked up on enough canned food to last them two months, while many others take the stuff and nonsense approach. However, the fact that people have actually been aprehended flying in to Germany from Turkey with live chickens in their luggage is definitely not a good thing. Of course we are now rightly wary of governments who create an atmosphere of perpetual fear of some perceived enemy or threat to keep people under control. But perhaps when there is something that we should be really worried about, our governments and media keep us in the dark to avoid the sort of panic that would see people locked in their homes with their rifles loaded, ready to shoot the postman if he comes too near without a mask on. A news item today stated that if the epidemic hits it’s most likely to affect the young and the healthy. So I’m alright then, thank goodness.

Normally my phone calls to utilities companies etc end shortly after I receive a negative response to the question ‘sprechen Sie Englisch?’ However I have just arranged a wireless network connection to my new flat, entirely in German. Lord knows what I’ve agreed to, probably that I’ll hand over my first born son or sign the contract in my own freshly spilled blood.

Just when you think that you can’t physically get any more clothes onto your body, you find that somehow you can. I can’t say that the thought ‘I wish I had a balaclava’ had ever crossed my mind before, but this week it no sooner crossed my mind than I was acting on it, scouring Kreuzberg for something woolly to protect chin and cheeks. Unsurprisingly, all the shops had sold out.

Saw another extremely bad mullet today, this time on a woman. Not the sort of thing that would pass muster in Hoxton at all.

Minus 10 and counting

The city has disappeared under a white overcoat of snow, icicles dangle from every set of traffic lights, and the temperature has dropped to minus 10.

In my wardrobe now, along with thermal underwear and leg-warmers, is a wonderful padded coat. Less of a coat, more of a coat shaped duvet. It even cushioned me when I fell over backwards on the sheet ice the other day.

The snow looks beautiful when it's covering the cobbled streets of Prenzlauerberg (somehow the streets appear older and more authentically pre-war in the snow, although there is no logic to this whatsoever). But then you have to walk for days as though you were negotiating an uneven ice rink in slippers, and when the thaw starts the city becomes one giant pool of dirty icy slush.My wintry mood has not been lifted by meeting not one but two people who got World Cup tickets by just applying for them. Not only this, but one of them got tickets for the first five England matches - always assuming they go through to the quarter finals, which of course is assuming a lot. And talking of the World Cup, nobody can quite believe that the opening ceremony has been moved to Munich. Will they move the final there too?

Saw Match Point which is really excellent, thank goodness for Woody Allen and for Dostoevsky.

Just say no

Berliners have a very lenient approach to child raising, which involves letting their children do exactly what they like no matter how destructive to themselves or those around them. My neighbour upstairs has a two year old that has several interesting toys which can all make a good deal of noise on a stripped wooden floor. His newest one appears to be a hammer, and prompted my first bleary-eyed 7 a.m. trip up the stairs to knock on the door and politely ask if the bang bang banging could perhaps stop. She looked surprised and said ‘ist mein Kind’ and shrugged, as though it would be entirely impossible for her to have any control over what the little fecker did. I am waiting until the next time I come in drunk at 4.30 a.m. at which point I’m going to put my music on very loud, and when she comes to the door I’ll say ‘ist mein Stereo’ and shrug my shoulders in a similar manner.

Here comes 2006

Despite the announcement of minus 10 on the ground below as the plane back started its descent, I felt happy to return to Berlin to celebrate the beginning of 2006. However, I'm unimpressed with the mean spirited people who decided that when New Year’s Day falls on a Sunday that’s the only holiday you get. It’s stingy in the extreme, and impractical as surely nobody can contribute anything of use to society without at least two days to recover from the excesses of NYE? Not least from the ordeal of having to run the gauntlet of deranged children throwing fireworks at you (AT you, mark you) while simultaneously trying to negotiate ice packed snow in unsuitable New Year’s Eve shoes. Still, it was a good night, and I can remember almost all of it.

One of my best Christmas presents is a small model of Jesus on the cross, with tiny but bright lights that flash in quick succession around his frame, lighting up each of his stigmata. I was slightly disappointed that there wasn’t one for the wound in his side, but it’s still fantastic. I made my brother buy it for me at one of the Christmas markets.

New Year Resolutions:
1. To stop fancying the priest
2. To spend more time perfecting the skill of outstaring babies and young children. In future they’ll be picking the wrong person when they turn those unblinking eyes on me.
3. Not to dance with anyone who smells of sick