Life is a cabaret, with chocolate

On Oranienburgerstr, nestling amid the tacky tourist traps with their fake columns and plastic fountains pouring over polystyrene buddhas, there is a fine wig shop. I have purchased a black bob, which if I darken my eyebrows looks almost natural. It seems appropriate to have a Sally Bowles hairdo to switch to, and in a city like Berlin you never know when you might need a disguise. On the subject of hair, it’s gradually being born in on me that I’m going to have to go to a hairdresser, despite my deep mistrust of the breed. There is one near me but it’s called Naszi’s, which is not inspiring of confidence.

I seem to be on a private quest this week to find out just how much one person can eat in a given seven day period. I was helped in this by an encounter with my second ever chocolate fountain. They really are the most wondrous inventions.

Otherwise, spent a fun evening unblocking my bathroom sink with the aid of some specially imported Mr Muscle and a coathanger. Even though most of what I pulled out had clearly at one point been attached to my head, it could still happily have been used as a prop in any number of horror films.

I am very worried by the fact that I keep getting a banner advert for Tena Lady when I access my Yahoo e-mails. Could it be possible that I’ve been profiled?