Hadden's Heroes send England home tae think again

Oh Flower of Scooootlaaaaand...
...die Buzze is voll, Murrayfield Stadium is almost completely sold out, there's only two empty seats in the house and they are in front of me. Suits me magnificently. What a fine day for rugby! It is freezing, the wind rattles in the gates and, actually, in our faces and the rain drizzles down ever so slightly and ever so incessantly.
I just wonder who let all those ... english people in here...disgusting!
When the teams enter we let the guys in white and red know they're not the All Blacks, don't get too comfortable, this will not be a walk in the park, we're gonna put up a hell of a fight. The battle of Bannochburn is shortly reinacted on the pitch for that purpose, battledrums, speers, torches and all.

After that, we let them sing their song about their queen. Then, a second of silence, before the 100 or so bagpipers give'em a taste of their lungs, the Higland Clan Battledrummerboys and girls screem along as 30 015 people (half of the spectators + 15 players on the pitch) stretch their vocal chords for the Flower of Scotland. With the last word the gun is fired and, BANG, here we go again.
(die Wumme)

It has to be said that as a Scotland supporter, the belief in your team and the willingness to scream your lungs out for them is often the one thing you can cling to, especially when these folks from south of the border are at Murrayfield.
But three minutes into the game, there is a defening uproar, as Scotland TAKE THE LEAD!!!!
And they were determined to not give it away too easily. By half time whistle, 40 minutes later, the score is an amazing

The break gives us time to gather our strenght and give our voices a little rest. Meaning singing "Flower of Scotland" kind of quietly this time, as you can see here:

During the second half, there's more strain to be put on the voicebox, so that after another 20 minutes or so, I finally get from shouting things like "Comeooooooooon!!!!!", "Gie'magoodoooooone!!!!" or "Downwi'em!!!!!" to a mere "Hsaaaaaaaaaaadf -rgh!!!!!". The Lady next to me kept on shouting "Stop'emstp'emstop'emstop'em", and the boy in the seat in front of her seemed to be kind of concerned about that. In return, he stuck his giant blue wave-finger-what-do-you-call-those-thingys in my face a couple of times.
Much of the game took place only half a yard away from both of the try lines, but none of the teams actually GOT to try. There were a few more penalties throughout the match though, so that at full time, Scotland had actually beaten England

FRAKING OUT GALORE!!!! (on both sides of the Tweed, I guess)
The English were gutted, having been sure of a victory, as can be seen in this picture:

HAHAAAA!!!IN YER FACE!!!
Now, let us put this in historic perspective;
The last time that Scotland beat England in a Rugby match was in 1999. The last time before THAT was in 1990. So, it doesn't happen all too often, to put it that way, that's why the whole city (and, thinking of it, probably the whole COUNTRY including every single island) went celebrating in the pubs. You actually had to queue to get into the Last Drop and the likes, so we went celebrating with chips from the chippie and Whisky from Tattie's Cupboard.
For the next match, I am determined to stock up on the three lines of "Flower of Scotland" I know by heart, ("Oh, Flower of Scotland, ...something something something something about fighting and King Edward, something, ...and sent them home, tae think again" Ende.) and as I am a teacher and you're not (at least most of you), I'll put it on the blog for you to learn, too.
Das wird dann aber auch abgefragt!
Hefte raus, Klassenarbeit!

Police called after pupils go on strike over uniform crackdown

GARETH ROSE

POLICE were called to a city high school after pupils staged a walkout in protest at a crackdown on uniform.

About 100 youngsters, aged from 11 to 14, wore casual clothes to Craigmount High School on Friday, flouting an instruction to adhere to school dress codes.

An undisclosed number refused to go back to class after the morning break after they were given a dressing down. Police were called as the demo threatened to get out of hand.

The stunt had been organised via e-mail the previous day, in response to a letter sent home by headteacher Dr John Campbell asking parents to make sure pupils obeyed the dress code.

Children at Craigmount, in Corstorphine, may wear a white or blue polo shirt, or the more formal white or black shirt with the school tie. They must, however, wear black trousers.

Dr Campbell is understood to have warned youngsters who failed to do so that a letter would be sent to their parents.

This prompted an angry stand-off between pupils and staff on Friday, just hours before the school broke up for the half-term holiday. Most of the children were coaxed back into class, but a minority did not return.

Education chiefs say their parents have been contacted and the pupils face possible disciplinary action on their return next week.

Dr Campbell attempted to capture the youngsters on film, so the protestors and their actions would be on record when the time came to dish out punishments - but his video camera did not work. However, the pupils were caught on CCTV and may face disciplinary action on their return next week.

One parent claimed the children had been spurred into action by the "heavy-handed" approach taken by Dr Campbell.

She said: "The new headmaster wants them all to wear school uniform at all times. The kids got together and decided they would have a day of protest and most of them wore jeans on Friday.

"All the kids got letters home to give their parents and this sparked a riot. They were all outside, rampaging along Craigs Road.

"Dr Campbell has just come in and laid down the law without any consultation with staff or pupils. I don't like the fact that the kids were rampaging about, but he has brought it on himself."

Another parent added: "My son said there had practically been a riot at the school. Some pupils seem determined to resist."

A council spokeswoman said: "A small number of pupils left early on Friday without permission. Appropriate action will be taken against them upon their return from the February break."

The council has denied reports that children were shouting and climbing fences and that some pupils were knocked down in the rush to leave the school.

A police spokeswoman said: "Community officers were called to the school. However, there were no signs of a disturbance."

Craigmount High School has had a school uniform since 1999, and pupils have had a say in the colours used.

Education chiefs believe uniforms improve behaviour and attainment, and have urged schools and pupils to improve take up to the point that almost all schools in the city now have at least a dress code and in many cases a full school uniform.

The pupils have been backed by the Scottish Parent Teacher Council (SPTC).

Judith Gillespie, development manager of the Scottish Parent Teacher Council, said: "There's no evidence to suggest that everyone wearing the same clothes to school makes a difference to attainment.

"Threatening to report the children back to their parents is an insult to their independence."

(THE SCOTSMAN EVENING NEWS, 14.02.2006) (ZITAT ENDE)

Tja, Leude, so sieht das aus, wo ich so unterrichte.
ROCK AND ROLL HIGHSCHOOL GALORE!!
Da bereut man es fast, freitags frei zu haben. Aber nur fast.

Wat man so alle in der Post kricht!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Lords and Ladies!
Schaut her!
Die Dame, die mich schon im zarten Alter von 16 auf ihrem tuerkis farbenen Roller (Motor-) durch die westbadische Landschaft geheizt hat,
die mir den Beinamen Tequila brachte (don't ask!),
mit der ich unzaehlige Schlachten gegen Horden von Orks, machteifernede Magier und wahnsinnige Passionen kaempfte (again, don't ask),
die ich einst verlor und wiederfand,
diese Dame also...
...traegt jetzt einen fetten Brilli an ihrem Ringfinger! (Zumindest idealerweise, wa, Christian?!)
WOW! HAMMER!
Liebste Jenny, Niniel, Sunrise;
Der Umtrunk, den wir haben werden, der wird sich aber gewaschen haben, das kannste glauben. Kommt mich doch ma besuchen, fuer Gelage ist das hier aber sowas von der richtige Ort.
Ansonsten warte ich gespannt auf die naechste Karte...
Ich wuensch euch alles Liebe und ich glaub, ich ruf gleich ma an.

Die Revue passiert

Oh, Man,
this last week flew by so quickly. I had just stopped minding having to put up with no more than 40 cm of mattress space, and now -WHAM!- I'm alone again. Well, not quite; telly's in the kitchen, the laptop is here and Katie Melua is singing something strange about blue shoes (?).
My nose is red, so are my eyes, I can't breathe properly and I have a V-shaped bit of inflamed skin just between my nostrils. I already used tons of tissues and, quite honestly, I will be running out of them this very evening but I don't see me walking up all the 200 yards to LIDL to get more of them in time like.
I feel miserable. And I've got a cold, too. But also I miss the sonoric voice of Jo ... telling me to switch off the TV and wash the dishes. Also he took my last package of tissues. Or did I take his...??? Dunno.
We did a lot of nice things during this past week, some of which are none of your bloody business, but some others of which I'd love to share with you.

Unfortunately, our little trip to the Highlands didn't happen due to certain circumstances, but I still managed to take the Man to Loch Lomond ("You take the high road and I take the low road and I'll be in Scotland afooooore ye..."eherm. Sorry.)
We found
a castle (with lavatory)
whisky coloured water
picnic benches
a rope attached to a tree
the snow covered Highlands in the distanceaaahwhataview
all kinds of fat water birds

Armed with our cameras the value of a small car as we were, we took tons of pictures. For most of them you'll have to harass Jo, but these are Matilda's words as to what Loch Lomond is like:

(If you click on the pic, you can actually see things.)

On our way we stopped in Glasgow to chase a hat (by the way: I found mine, baby, it was in my desk thingy the whole time!), the results of which can be seen on photos that Jo took, and we didn't actually meet Jamie that day, but this is what HE looks like:



We also went to Craigmillar Castle, but it was closed. And, oh, by the way, I am now an official Friend of Historic Scotland!!, which means that I have free admission to sites like Edinburgh Caslte, Craigmillar Castle, Urquahuahard Caslte on the shore of Loch Ness, a bunch of standing stones on some island or other and loads of other things, because I am a ... (Trommelwirbel, bitte) ... MEMBER!! I am currently waiting for the sticker and the badge.
One other major attraction was Asda at the Jewel, where you can buy things, and a couple of "Accessorize"s, "Next"s, "Topshop"s and the like, where you absolutely can't.

And tomorrow...
it's back to school, where I will blow me nose some more.
Goodnight.

That's a keeper

Conversation between Ian MillerHeadOfDepartment and Lorna Hughes, Lecturer in Recent German, shortly before the end of lunchbreak:

Lorna: "Oh, no. I've got this bunch of nutters now..."
Ian: "Which one? There's so many of those."

and a little later, talking about some behaviourly channlenged pupil with motivation issues and poor social skills:

Ian: "Oh, I want to take a pair of candles, shove them up her bloody nostrils and SET THEM ON FIRE!"

Dear Ian and Lorna, I will keep these words of yours in my heart for evermore.

This one goes out to...

...Ferdi and footie, as a healing charm from the land of druids and strong, strong liquor (Barrels of it. Of both of it.).
Slainte!

For Hobbes

who is in lovable psycho cat heaven, where there are nothing but cosy little spots above eye-level and plastic straws to play with all day...

Thursday morning, 10 am...

...and the guy with the hat strikes again.
I was entering school and once in the building turning right towards the concourse, when out of the janitors' wee box someone was shouting "Heeeey!!". "Not again", I thought and turned back to inquire as to the motivation of the shouter. When I faced the janitor he said "Oh, sorry, I thought you were a student." "Never mind", I said, "it happened before."
I don't know how, but apparently, my backside looks ten years younger then my face. Mh. Well...I guess in another twenty years, me and my toyboy will be drinking to that.
Cheers!

The Royal extra terrestrian alien freaks

On the corner of Nicholson Street and West Richmond Street, just a couple of metres from me hoos and opposite LIDL, there is a branch of the Royal Mail (not to be mixed up with the Royal Mile, which is something completely different, but try explaining that to an Aussie!). In this post office, two guys are working. It's always the same two guys, they must be there 24/7 and probably the two massive shelves of envelopes, thick brown tape, rubber bands (assorted) and childrens scissors really are some kind of fold down beds, so they never leave the place.
Everytime I have to post something, I encounter the two of them. I can't really tell them apart, they're actually quite the same. They look like some Indian underground chainsmoking baked potatoes in beige shirts (ALWAYS beige shirts!!) and knitted waistcoats. Everything about them just melts together, colourwise, like some huge pot of custard that has been left out in the sun.

So when I go there and say:
"I've got a letter here to Edinburgh." (Meaning: just sell me a 42p stamp and let me get on with my life.),
they will always say something like:
"Husssnuwidfasshnu".
"Beg pardon?!"
"Hasfdeehhussim!"
"Whaa? Oh, yes , to Edinburgh."
"Menehessefdrrrrr."
"You shut your trap about my mother!"
"Hassne messsfll brrps. ... S!"
"Oh, yes, the scale, here, I put it on it, don't brain fizzzz me, please."
"Abademsiddfl."
"Hm??"
"Haaaa-asufel*$^"
"Oh, yes, 42p, there you go, keep the change."

I am convinced that these two are some kind of alien brothers from planet Zorrk, sent to earth to spy on our ... postal system?? Really I don't know what the Spaceman Spiff they hope to achieve by sitting in a stuffy little post office all the time, but if I knew, they probably would have brain fried me anyway. Or I found out already and they just had the relevant part of my brain removed surgically in one of their ships orbiting Earth so I wouldn't tell the Earth Government about their plans. Well. I like my brain, so I won't investigate any further. Just so you know: if you never receive any letters from me, it's not because I don't write any; it's because they probably dyed them beige and ate them.

Breaking News - bulletin

Gotcha!

With the start of the Six Nations Cup, Murrayfield Stadium was sizzling again with a screaming crowd. Scotland enters this competition as an absolute underdog and yesterday, they warmly welcomed one of the best teams of Europe, France.
The Scots weren't expected to stand much of a chance against such a team, as up until the change of Manager a couple of monthes ago, they performed rather poorly recently, BUT: DAMMIT, THEY KICKED ASS!!!!!!
We (!) took the lead only a couple of minutes into the game and two minutes before the half time whistle, the score was Scooooootland: 20 - france: zilch! (vielzuvielscheissverein!)
The French (or Froggies as we lovingly call them) came on violently during the second half, but Scotland didn't give in to even the most ambitious attack. In the end, Scotland had scored 20 points, France 16. WHAT A GAME, MAN!!

My personal Man of the Match: Sean Lamont (right). What a dude! He can only be described with an astonished adoring: geil!

Zur Feier des Tages ging ich heute zu H&M und verprasste £ 54,94, hae-hae!

To the Misty Mountains!

The one thing I regret about living in an place like Berlin is not being able to escape to the woods every once in a while. I mean, technically it's possible; I myself attempted to explore Tegeler Wald a couple of times, being bored of know-every-corner-of-it-Victoriapark or Same Old Trep everytime, but it takes about half a day to get there so that when you arrive you can almost be sure of the sun being gone.
So today, as the bright blue sky reminded me of Damien's words ("saer is a woode in Costorfiinoe. It's wreali bjutifulloe..."), I decided to take Mathilda on a little trip towards the western edge of town. There was the sweet scent of spring in the air, the birds were singing and the sun shone brightly on my face as I was sitting in the bus.
I got off at the zoo and had my ten minutes of exercise while walking up Costorphine Hill towards the woods. I entered the shadow of the trees and followed a well trodden path, past saturday doggie walkers and saturday kiddie walkers. After a couple of hundred metres I came around a bend in the path and saw before me the most phantastic view of the town. To my left there was the hill but to my right there was a steep slope and only a few trees, so that they gave way to overlook silverknowes and, in the distance, the castle, sitting majestically on its hill.
I continued and after a little while noticed a kind of tower or steeple on the hill to my left. The Indiana Jones part of me awoke, I left the main path and went exploring.
Uphill I found what was indeed a tower, sitting on the very summit of Costorphine Hill, surrounded by trees and illuminated by the golden sunlight.

Not far off there were the ruins of some building, but nothing much was left of it, so I cannae really tell what it once was, but this is what it lookes like:

I pondered in the sun for a while and had a closer look at both the tower and the ruined bit.
When I moved on I did't return to the main path but took one of the smaller ones, leading into the woods. I passed many a decaying bit of masonery on my way, the remainders of walls and steps of stone, leading nowhere.

The forest seemed enchanted, with green trees everywhere despite the time of year and myriads of Ivy leaves covering dead trees. The sun shone through the roof of the trees and made everything look so beautiful.

Now had I been an old toothless Scotswoman, I might be able to tell you the stories of the fayries living in these woods, scaring off anyone who wanders astray, keeping the outside world off their premises.
I am not a toothless ols Scotswoman, but I can assure you, the fayries are real!
When I was walking amidst the trees, I could hear them rustling in the undergrowth and whispering to each other, though I couldn't understand what they were saying. But I know for a fact that when they saw me walking all too confidently through their realm, they made the stones move, so that I fell flat on my sun warmed backside.
I took that as a warning and tried to find my way back to the main path. When I had climbed yet another summit, I could see the top of a hill in the distance, overgrown with trees and emerging from the mist like an island out of the see. For a split second I swear I could hear someone say "Avalon!".
I was amazed at the beauty of this place but well aware of its dangers. That and the fact that I was growing hungry made me climb downhill, until I could hear the noise of Queensferry Road not far off. I followed the sound, stepped out fom under the trees and Edinburgh had me back.

Tuesday morning, 8. am

and I was just arriving in school, after freezing my bum off in the bus beause it is just freeeeeeeezing, and walking down the corridor on the ground floor of the Modern Languages wing of the building when I heard someone behind me yell:
"Hey you!!!!! ... The guy with the hat on."
I thought "Well, who's the poor devil being told off first thing in the morning THIS time?" when I realized that there was actually no one around wearing a hat. No one exept me, that is.
I turned around and politely asked "Are you talking to me?", with a this-is-gonna-be-fun expression on my face.
The yeller insisted "Yes, you, the guy with the hat!"
I took off my beautiful Saint Andrews Cross fleece hat that has been doing a great job keeping my head from falling off shock frosted during the last days. (Apparently and for no good reason, the kids are not allowed to wear hats in school. I wasnae aware of that, but obviously that was the reason for this nutter to shout at me.)
I smiled him in the face and said "Well, I'm not a guy. I'm not even a student (and I'd very much appreciate not being shouted at, shithead)!" Obviously I didn't say that last bit, because I, as opposed to others present at that moment, am such a well behaved and good girl.
I startled him enough anyway by turning from the student "guy with the hat on" into a non student woman in the matter of just a split second.
HA! BUGGER! AWAY AN' FLING SHITE AT YERSEL!
When I told him who I was he apologized to me very formally, but didn't bother to tell me his dear name.
I met the guy later in the staircase where he apologized again, asked my permission to introduce himself and told me that he had apologized to MrMillerHeadOfDepartment, too, God knows why.
And you know what? He still didn't tell me his name, despite me allowing him to do so.
And I will keep on wearing my beloved hat IN the building as long as I please. Call me a riot...



la Piece de Persistence

Der Virus greift um sich...

...und es gibt keine Impfung;

meine Freundin und mit-Languageassistantin Constanze aus Erfudd hat ein neues Lieblingswort. Auf rhetorische, dumme oder sonstige Fragen, die der gebildete Nachwuchsakademiker mit einem charmanten "ja, selbstverstaendlich, Teuerste" beantwortet, antwortet sie seit neuestem mit einem fluchs dahingeschnalzten

"Stanni!"

...was hab ich getan...???

Project Healthy Living

First major setback

After a good week of sticking to my new I-will-get-rid-of-this-bodde-lifestyle, comprising covering long distances on foot and eating plenty of veggies and unsweetend cornflakes, monday night saw me contently watching "Megastructures" on Channel Four and munching away on a decent serving of shortbread, washed down by two cups of sugared tea. ... ... DAAAAAAAAAAAHAAM-YOUUUUU, McVitties, I'll see you in HELL!!

Und dann war da noch...

In Kreuberg geh'n die Uhren anders... Besonders wenn der echte Haino seine Zeiger im Spiel hat.

Did you know that...

...cups, especially when filled with a liquid (like, let's say, hot tea) work so much better when you hold them upright.
Of course, it took a math teacher to tell me that.

The wee lesson of ... doitsch

The following expression, describing the general feeling of the minute just before the next lesson and coined by Mr Ian Miller, Head of Department who "doesn't speak German" apart from phrases like "Ach, du schoener Morgenstern",... jedenfalls this expression needs introducing into german Sprachgebrauch:

Ich bin bocklos.

Go ahead, spread the word!

This one goes out to...

...the one I love:

Wie waer's damit?

Hail Caledonia!

Folgendes wollt ich nur noch mal klar gestell haben:


Capice?

Nocturama

On the last day of the week I took to the road, I'd been staring out of the window most of the morning until, despite the prospect of the weather, I had summoned enough courage to leave the house.
On my way I passed the local tune dealer, who goes by the Name of Megastore - Virgin Megastore. I entered and I let love in and money out.
Then I took the small roads out of town, went down to the water of Leith walkway, took a little walk to the edge of town and went across the track till I came to where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom.

The path was empty, men and beast hiding from the rain that was pouring down heavily by now. I had left my house without my coat and soon my cloths clung to me like a shroud. So I walked through the rain and I walked through the mud till I came to a place called Newhaven. There was no such thing as a harbour in it and neither was it new; it was small and it was mean and it was cold. Long forgotten factory buildings stretched into the sky like giant teeth. There was no-one around - the streets and shops deserted, the only sound the rain drumming on corrugated sheet roofs.
I finally sheltered in a little fallen down chapel that people must have forgotten long ago.

The rain was clawing at its walls and a vicious wind blew hard and fast, I could hardly see anything outside.
After a while I heard footseps on the path and saw a shape in the rain approaching the chapel. When he got closer I could see it was an old man, walking bended and very slowly. He was soaked to the skin. When he entered the old chapel he looked me in the eye. It felt very strange. Like he had known he'd find me there. I was desperate to break the silence, so when I could no longer take his stare, I asked: "Where are alle the people?" He didn't take his gaze off me when he said: "You must have heard about the curse of Newhaven..." "The curse...?" was all I could utter.
To my relief, he was turning around now and staring into the wind and rain he said: "This city is an ogre, squatting by the river. It gives life but it takes it away..." Softly he spoke these words to me, with brand new eyes, open wide and then, like waking from a dream, he added: "Nobody lives here now."
I stood next to him in the doorway of the old forgotten chapel, trying to pierce the veil of rain with my eyes, and I watched the world as it fell past.
I turned to the old man but he was gone. I looked around in the chapel, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was no other way out than the door in which I was standing. He could not possibly have left without me seeing him. He had vanished into thin air. I heard his voice echoing in my ear..."...nobody lives here now ... nobody lives here now..."
I was terrified. I ran out into the rain, I ran and ran, I stumbled over roots and stones, I could hardly see the path, the rain was in my eyes, blinding me, and still I kept running until finally I saw the outlines of houses and a big white ship I knew lay in the harbour of Leith. The rain seemed to have lessened suddenly and back on the streets of Leith I saw a great big smiling sun. It seemed a good day and an evil day and all was bright and new.
I was horrified and confused, jostling through the crowd of people carrying on regardless of me, listening to their tiny plastic phones.
I took a bus home, closed and locked the door behind me and went into the kitchen for some hot cocoa and some medication and spent the rest of the day shivering in bed.
A couple of days later, a friend and I took the path again, this time in bright sunshine and coming from the other direction. I wanted to show my friend the chapel, but as much as we looked and as far as we went, there was none.
So, the big question of all this mystery is:
what did I buy at Virgin?

Auslaendisch fuer Anfaenger

Presento el gateau:

This one goes out to...

...all my australophile friends.
With love.

Death awaits you...everywhere!

Boy, was I glad it was behind the fence. I was all alone and really don't know what I would have done if it had sneaked up and jumped on me.

Und by the way

gibt es im schoenen Edinburgh einen Stadtteil, der sich "Bloedekampflesben" uebersetzt, wie mir gestern beim Lesen von "Fleshmarket Close" auffiel.
Und natuerlich muss der naechste Satz lauten:
Da wohn' ich.

Emmmm ... EIN GEDICHT!! ...

...doch aufgepasst, es reimt sich nicht.


white blue blue blue blue blue white
blue white blue blue blue white blue
blue blue white blue white blue blue
blue blue blue white blue blue blue
blue blue white blue white blue blue
blue white blue blue blue white blue
white blue blue blue blue blue white


Ich taufe dieses Gedicht auf den Namen
"Achtung, unbeschrankter Bahnuebergang!".
Warum? Weil ich es kann.

Ha!

Here goes it, the big z.d.w.a.g. - photograph-kunundrum-butchery-battle!


Homerrrr's on our side!!


We are one pair of bad ass dangerous li'l bitches! with antennae.


before the tequila


after the tequila


sudden snow shower


Scheiss im Kreis


And don't forget to turn the other cheek, Goergens, there's a lot more where that came from!!!!! I've got a camera here and I'm not afraid to use it!

Breaking News - bulletin

Hello adulthood, I hate you

No Immatrikulationsbescheinigung in the world will ever get me a student's ridacard again.
In the eyes of Lothian Buses (your locally owned buses) I am now officially old - too old to possibly be a student any longer.
Nice one.

Every day life dialogues

Sabrina: "TV is bad!!"
Pav : "Says Sabrina with the Homer Simpson slippers."


Apart from that, the little ginger head with the spiky hair from second year pointed out to me today:

"There is a BAAD word written on that cardboard box...: poo!"

Breaking News

The Computer at school doesn't open my blog anymore because it contains too many bad words. ... Fuck, Alder!

Nightmare on Dark Street

So there I was, full of joy and merry to disembark the Easyjet cattle transport that had brought me to Newcastle late after I had spent one and a half hours sitting next to a close to hysterical woman and her boyfriend the age of her father. I was dead tired even before I started and everybody who has ever taken an Easyjet flight will join my manic laughter at the thought of sleeeping in the plane.
Anyway, had I known that this was just the start of one hell of a trip, I would have given in and booked a hotel right then and there.

I picked up my car. A Ford Fiesta. ... TOO SMALL, DAMMIT!! I felt like squeezing into a shoebox, started the 12 PS engine and tuckert off.

The road was really creepy, as between Newcastle and Edinburgh, you pass about two cities in an otherwise deserted stretch of country. There was practically no one on the road, it was late, I was tired and melancholic, it was dark, it was cold, it was raining, it was foggy and I just wanted to get the hell home. On the way I stopped in a town to change the CD, as I just didn't dare even thinking about stopping next to the unlit and lonely road.

I finally made it to more civilized regions, the first time I felt really good was when I passed the summit after which I could see the orange see of illuminated Edinburgh beneath me.

Eventually I reached the city bypass, took the right direction (heyhey!) and already saw me sitting in Lady Rachel's living room, sipping a cup of tee and then going to bed. I knew I had to take the next exit, so when the nice white line on my left hand side turned dotted, I pulled over.

Big fucking mistake.

There was a horrible bang, the car slowed down suddenly and the hub cap came flying over my head and crashed onto the street, where it was to be run over several times until this present moment.

Pandemomnium!!!

I stopped the car and got out.
The tire had retired. It was a goner! What I had mistaken for my exit was in fact the entrance to an emergency layby, which was seperated from the motorway by a kerb.
Which was completely unilluminated and in the dark not to be seen.
Which I had hit.
With the left front tire.
At 70 miles an hour.
Not good.


dramatisation

First thing I tried to call the Hertz people.
Which I couldn't with my german mobile.
I then went over to the emergency phone in order to call a towing truck. Which didn't work. (I didn't know that emergency phones can say "sorry, your call can not be copleted as dialled...", but apparently they can.)

I also tried to stop someone, but no-one did. Either they didn't see me or they are all a bunch of fucking cunts! Either way, I felt as low as a snake's belly in a pit.
I was cold, I was tired, I was all alone right next to a freaking motorway just ten minutes before home. I just needed someone to help me, pleeeease!

So I called Paraguay Woman, who got me out of this mess by calling the Hertz people for me who then sent someone to help me. A chubby little man with the worst accent I had ever heard. He was mumbling, too and also my towning-truck-man-slang kind of seems to need working on. At least the friendly little man changed the tire and also I had managed to call the police in the meanwhile. The Hertz guy had told me to and so I did. Whatever!

The two police officers arrived just after the chubby one had finished the tire changing. They just made sure that everything was fine and I could drive off.

After the shock had ebbed down, it dawned on me: it was just a silly flat tire. I had the spare tire. I had the tools. I could have changed that thing myself.
...OH NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! PANDEMONIUM STRIKES AGAIN!!! I'M A WOMAN DRIVER!!!! I WILL HAVE TO BUY A REAR-VIEW-MIRROR-DIDDL-MOUSE AND SOME STUFFED ANIMALS TO COMPLETELY COVER MY DASH BOARD!!! AAARHGGG!

In my defense:
My spirits were more then low. The help I needed was more of the mental and moral kind. Had I not been alone, things might have been different.
Also a real woman driver probably doesn't know what a dashboard is. (It's the thing in front of you, Ladies, the one covered in cute little stuffed things that will turn into cute little ballistic missiles once you have a crash which sooner or later you are very likely to!)
Sorry, I needed that for my ego.

Eventually, I drove off, direction of Brunswick Street, to meet my Lady saviour. Ten minutes later I turned a corner into her street, when I saw something bright and colourful in my rear view mirror. It was blue to be precise. And flashing. And it had "POLICE" written on it. They obviously wanted me to stop.
I had to think of Charly the Unicorn, yelling "I'm right here, whaddouyou want??"

There was a nice officer, almost apologizing for stopping me, asking me whether I would mind stepping out of the car for a second. Of course I didn't. Again: whatever!
He told me that there seemed to be something wrong with my car and I told him that I had recently had a minor accident. "When was that?" he asked and I looked him in the eye and said "I left the scene ten minutes ago." I also told him that there had been two collegues of him, which one of the other police men checked. He then took my details, asked me whether I had drunk anything that night and then was very impressed by my driving licence. ("Wow, that looks formal!" - "Yes, we Germans are very serious about our driving licences.")

Two minutes later I finally reached my destination, more dead then alive, tried to completely get over my shock and an hour or so later finally went to bed.
It was half three by then, and I had to get up at about ten, because, of course, no flat tire in the world can stop us from watching Gilmore Girls on saturday mornings.

The poor little car!!
It's not his fault he is that small, he got abused, hurt and, during the night, shat on twice by birds.

The lesson learned can only be:
Next time a bigger car again, everything else is bad luck!

Question of the day:

How many boards
would the Mongols hoard
if the Mongol hordes got bored?

Just wonderin'...

Berlin - a Christmas Fairytale

Someone up there must have dropped a huge bag of icing sugar or flour or Magnesia or cocaine or something. I like to think that it was Saint Peter or a tleast his stupid intern, but the local Newspaper (Der Tagesspiegel) tells me that it was indeed Tiefdruckgebiet Holger! The city looks like one of those lovely gingerbread houses decorated with Gummibärchen and lollipops and what have you, the sort of things WE never had because my mother just couldn't be bothered, but let's not talk about that.

Till deep in the night you can hear the screams of people racing down the hill in Viktoriapark on their sleds and I have to think back to Christmas 1984, when I got a Toboggan, a luvely nice red Toboggan for my birthday, which I loved a lot and which took me on extremely short rides, as we used to live in the valley of the Rhine, respectively extremely long and bold, sometimes almost fatal rides, or so it seemed to me, when I was staying with my granny, who lived on the top of a mountain in the Alpes.

Anyway, that was my Toboggan, my first ever ride (apart from my little blue bike, but that was used when I got it), and I sure wish it was with me now, because I want to go down the Viktoriapark hill screaming and yelling in the middle of the night, too! But there's no sled to be found here, as Jo broke his last year. Darn it. We haven't had that much snow in years and somehow I will get my hands on some go-down-the-snowy-hill-extremely-fast device in order to use it! In some way or other I will!
If you see a girl late at night, going up a hill with a black rubbish-bag in her hand... GO BUY HER A TOBOGGAN!!

Zelebration!!

Having one's birthday at christmas time sucks big time, that's why I again celebrated a couple of days before my actual birthday, as has become the custom, and whoever yells "But that's unlucky" kricht von mir persoenlich direkt inne Fress...!
Anyway, last saturday saw this year's birthday party deluxe. First we had Pancakes Alsaciennes at my place and then we hit the road to the Centraal, next to the Pear Tree, not as hip but with a wider range of beers to choose from. And in order to quote one of Lady Rachel's students: I entirely recommend this experience! We even got a table after only about half an hour of standing arounf at the bar, juhuu!! and in the course of the evening nicked the little shiny party hats off the neighbouring table, where a christmas celebration had taken place and had loads of fun with them. I had my first tequila in ages, in fact I believe the first since I left school and as I happened to have a south american Lady at my side, we did it properly, Herrschaften! Binge drinking in style!
Doch sehen Sie selbst:

In India, the Tiger doesn't go into the tank but comes in a bottle.

The Dave and the I

Ladies with hats (very upper class...we'll go to the horse race next month.)

Ladies Fra and Siets: get moving but don't get up

Hackfressen competition - I win.

Goergens...!

...so still? Wohl die Hosen gestrichen voll, wa?! Wohl Schiss? Jahaa. Zurecht, Junge.

Today's Lesson for Life:

The guy who invented the water flush toilet was called:

Thomas Crapper.

What a wonderful and useful thing he invented, unimaginable what our lives would look like without it. And what kind of appreciation does he get? He gets shite named after him.
I mean the Edisons or the Bells are probably immensely proud of their ancestors. But, let's face it, the Crappers are pooped. (I only say pooped because some excrement of a superviser cencored my little innocent f*****d. Das prangere ich an! But we all know what they really are!)
Zurueck ins Funkhaus und gute Nacht.

Breaking News

Brian Lee Harvey, formerly of East 17 (the short guy with the stupid hats) is currently convalescing after a car accident.
... He run HIMSELF over.
I didn't even know that was physically possible (how can you be IN and UNDER your car at the same time???) but when it comes to stupid things, Brian Harvey can do it.
It's actually not even funny, because he really nearly died, braking his legs and hip and all sort of things.
...Ok, it IS funny...in a way...

The BIIIPB goes on!

Nimm das, Scherge!!!

Frau Fleck: 2
Goergens: 0

Hehe.

My baby is back!

After almost two weeks of absence due to a fixing vacation, the tv finally came back today. Whoever he stayed with, they even cleaned his screen!! And now he's safely back in the kitchen, next to the play sation (who was so lonely without him).



Ten minutes later, that's me. I already forgot how to read and my weekend will mean some serious upcatching on Neighbours and Eastenders!

Run, Santa, Run (zu deutsch: Santa Rennt)

German Santa dancing the Eminem



Now we know what's under the Kilt...



Some folks I don't know



Ist es ein Vogel? Ist es ein Flugzeug? Nein! Es ist Weihnachts-man!



OK, guys, this is a first:
Who'd have thought that one day, I'd put on a Santa dress and run two laps around West Princes Street Gardens? Many of you, I gather, but who'd have only begun to think that I'd even pay TEN QUID for it??? Exactly.

It was a strange sight, hundreds of people dressed as Santa Clause (and who ALL had payed ten pound to be allowed to do so), santa-bagpipers and all, but it made for some good pictures (you know, santa-bagpipers and all). We even got to keep the Santa dresses! Isn't that just grant? Aaaand we got a medal. Aaaaand our ten bucks will help fulfill wishes for terminally ill children, get them to Lapland (where, as we all know, Santa lives (???) in an Igloo (???)), have snowball fights and feed Reindeers (or was it ON Reindeers??).
HOHOHO for charity (ein Hoch auf die Charitee)!

GOERGENS...!!!

I declare the Big International Intercontinental Indiefresse Picture Battle (BIIIPB) officially started!

TAKE THOU THAT!!!

Today's Lesson for Life:

If you're at the bus stop and you feel like dancing and singing with nothing better to do and Elvis in your ear: dance, baby!

Neues Visarecht in Grossbritannien

Kevin hat ein Reiseverbot ... Einreiseverbot! Striktes! Scheckes!

Friendly Pilotes...

... und ich zitiere woertlich:

"Einen schoenen guten Tag, meine wunderschoenen Damen und Herren auf Ihrem Flug nach Edingburg."
...
"Ziehen Sie die Schwimmweste ueber den Kopf und achten Sie dabei natuerlich auf Ihre Frisur."
...
"... wir hoffen Sie haben eine gute Weiterreise; wie haben Sie sehr gerne. (Pause) ... nach Edingburg geflogen. Merry Christmas."

Da sach noch einer was ueber Servicewueste und sowas.

By the way

Meine Schwester hatte uebrigens auch Geburtstag vor kurzem.

Welcome to Britain...

...where people turn on their shower without actually being in it in order to heat up the bathroom, where empty batteries are thrown in the bin and heaters cannot be turned down in public buildings, which leaves you with the one and only possibility to open the windows wide if you don't want to suffocate and stop caring about the heater working on full power.
It only makes sense that it is in a place like this that you have a heater - installation company called... und jetz ratet mal...

"Global Warming"

Frage des Tages

Lebt eigentlich ollen Plappert noch? Ich habe ein Geschunk fur ihm und muss ihn ausserdem des weiteren uberdies noch wissen lassen, dass die Glasgows dachten, ich nennte ihn Fluffy (in echtigkeit sachte ich naturlich Plappi) und wir folgerichtig beschlussen, ihn furderhin offiziellst desgleichen zu betiteln.

Ich glaub, ich muss jetz erstmal was essen, ich fuehl mich unterzuckert.

Oink

Drawing a pig on this frickin' little pad on this frickin' little laptop is frickin' difficult...