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“Romance, Two Strokes and The Bard” (Disclaimer: May be detrimental to Maturity Levels) Heading into Stratford we kept passing holiday parks with romantic names such as ‘mountain view’. They may well had a lovely view of the mountain, but on that Sunday clouds swathed the landscape right up to the treetops. Needless to say, having a ‘view’ was not top of our priority list as we cruised for a place to stay. Andrew had the number of a youth hostel so we cruised the streets I ...
The weekend started with a burning tree. Usually when one sees a tree on fire it is a good indication that you should run and hide, lest a giant finger appear from the heavens and decide to smite you too. I mean, if a harmless tree can incur that sort of wrath, who knows what might be heading your way. We didn’t run. The intrigue of smoke combined with the Autobahn’s supplies of underground petrol was too good a spectacle to miss! Luckily the service station attendants were well trained at dealing ...
Yes, that’s right. Cycling. ‘Motorcycling’ but minus the motor part, which some would characterize as rather important... As I cycled, motorless, into work this morning I noticed three things. One, when I stop I put my left foot down. Stretched, on tippy toes, I keep the bicycle as upright as possible. Catching a glance of this in a shop window it looked quite ridiculous really. The habit of stretched-left-leg-right-foot-on-brake that I have picked up since riding the DR dies hard, ...
I love bushwalks. The feeling of being outdoors, under the trees, part of nature. The views from the top of each peak that make the climb so worth it. The sense of achievement after a long day’s walk. Stephen, however, sees things differently. For him the only difference between a cracker ride and a cracker bushwalk is the level of pain in his legs after the latter. In some respects I understand this viewpoint. Yes, riding a bike you do get very close to the contours of the land, particularly on ...
My sister bought a Tardis just before Christmas. Full size, complete with flashing blue light on top. She plans to place it outside the door to our house, so the illusion of smallness may be contradicted by the expanses behind. Mum secretly hopes it will work to revert the forces of entropy that always seem to infiltrate our bedrooms. She will go on hoping. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think Stephen and I need a Tardis. We seem to be followed around by a permanent vortex of watch-warpingness ...
Spain (bit belated, but getting there!) Spain starts in Germany with skinned knees and a bag of early morning pretzels for the road. I spent my last night in Freiburg at my friend Kira’s place and rose before 5am. This early hour coupled with the excitement of bus-tram-bus-plane-train that was to come were so overwhelming that the first thing I did was fall flat on my face in the middle of the street. Turns out that taking a tramping pack and backpack perhaps wasn’t the best move ...
Berlin After hopping off the train a stop late and lugging my 28kg of clothing/ computer/ souvineers through the stinking hot day to my hostel, I was about ready to do a little balck sambo and melt into a pile of ghee. But no. I was strong and soldiered on, training into the city to check out the Jewish museum. The architecture of this place is amazing, I can completely recommend it as a place of interest. And best of all, like most museums in Europe, they have a student ticket price ...
Potsdam This part of the tale involves a big-people sized playground, ginger-chocolate icecream, ‘The Brandenburger’ burger bar, a concentration camp and a Stasi prison. Given that the playgrounds and icrecream came first and the prisons second, you could say that upon moving to Berlin my innocence was shattered and I will never again return to those carefree days on the giant piratical climbing frame. But that might be taking things a bit too far. Let’s start with ...
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