Tuesday, July 24, 2007

An open letter to the people of Darmstadt

Dear Darmstadtians
You have a rockin fossil collection. This fact alone should be enough to put a smile on your faces, but apparently not. You all look so sad. Please consider smiling.

with kind regards,
Helen

Coin Slot

Dear Ladies of Germany
Your pants are very tight, and invariably low cut. As a consequence, I can see your bum cracks. It disturbs me greatly. Please stop.

Dear Men of Germany
If you are over the age of 45, you are wearing your pants way too high. You are the quintessential "high-pant wearer". This amuses me no end. Don't stop.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Letters from Home

Each week, like clockwork, a letter from my Dad arrives in the post. It is like Christmas when I see that blue, red and white striped top of the air mail envelope. His letters are filled with the weather (of course), what's going on in Newcastle and the Bay, and what he's been up to that week.

I keep in touch with the rest of the family via email and skype, but there is something comforting about my growing collection of letters from home.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Back in the Pool

After a 4 month hiatus, resulting from sheer and utter laziness, you will all be pleased to know, I'm back in the pool. It hurt. Alot.

I shouldn't have been surprised when I discovered my swimming cap disintegrated due to lack of use - I'm SO pleased I dragged that little piece of latex to the other side of the world.

Managed to get through my statutory 1 km without drowning, but it took a good deal longer than usual. Did I mention that it hurt? Alot.

Hoping to be able to walk and move my arms tomorrow, but I'm not overly confident.

Also - had my first 'in town' bike adventure today (definitely not to be confused with a 'town bike' adventure) and managed to not get run over. I did, however, suffer the indignity of having to get off my bike and walk it up the last bit of the hill out of town (oh the shame, the shame). I've got to work on my hill climbing or I'll never win the Tour de France.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Ikea - it's like lego for grown-ups

I spent a day (and I mean the WHOLE day) at ikea last week, shopping for the various pieces of furniture we needed. I love the crazy swedish names of all the products, the way you must follow the proscribed route through the store, otherwise you will be forever lost, and doomed to live in the store for eternity. I love the little pencils and paper tape measures so thoughtfully provided so you can take notes and measure stuff to your hearts content as you wander idly through the store. I'm not so much in love with the screaming children who dash out at you when you least expect it, so that your kneee connects with their wee heads with a sickening thud mid stride.

The boxes were delivered on Monday and Richard has spent two grueling evenings on his hands and knees assembling my purchases. My contribution to the construction process was fetching beer at regular intervals and passing him the screwdriver with the precision of a surgical nurse, "Screwdriver, STAT!"

In honour of ikea, we will name our first child Malm.

That's a big chicken you've got there mister

One of my favourite stalls at the markets is the Egg Master (Ei Meister) - I am so going to buy all my eggs from him from now on. I suspect that he has a bit of fishing line attached to the rooster's leg and when he makes a sale he gives it a tug so that the rooster crows - pure marketing genius.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Faunal deaths

When I worked in the Northern Territory at a mine, each week there would be a report on activities at the mine, x tonnes of ore dug, y number of safety incidents and there would be a report of Faunal Deaths on the mining lease, and a brief, but grizzly discription of the manner of the demise of the poor animal - 1 kangaroo stuck in the mud after wandering into the shallows of the tailing dam.

I feel it is my duty to keep a record of the native German wildlife that cats have been dragging in recently. So here goes - 5 small rodents (not mice exactly, but close cousins I suspect) met an untimely end at the end of a cats paw. 4 have so far been recovered.

It is not as if they catch them to eat them, it is purely for entertainment purposes. So it seems that my cats have taken upon themselves to decimate the local population of these small bewhiskered creatures. Bad cats. I suppose it could be worse, in Melbourne their favourite game was to catch a bird (usually a pigeon), and bring it into the house, and then release it, so they could catch again, and again, and again, until it didn't move anymore. The result was usually feathers from the front door to the back door, and a dead bird hidden somewhere in the house - they weren't always easy to find either.