Welcommen to Germanland! I would put it in German, but all I can do so far is some Germanish (A mish mash of English and German designed primarily to annoy my German girlfriend hee hee). We're here in Germany for Easter and boy is it a different experience. It's Good Friday and everything is, umm, how shall I put this? - closed. Not a single shop is open; all the temples to consurmarism are closed and the streets are silent. Hardly any cars - and those that are about are travelling to see family; there's lots of walkers and cyclists. Damn, it's peaceful. Too peaceful perhaps? No doubt there are ravening hordes lurking over the nearby hills, waiting for just the right moment to shatter the peace and ravage their way across the city centre in an orgy of unfulfilled consumer lust and despair, but for now peace has the upper hand. The problem with peace, and quiet roads, is the sudden and inescapable thought in the head of said Girlfriend, that we should in fact be cycling around in the sunshine. Now I have nothing against a good cycle but the thought of breathing in fumes and dodging cars is never one I willingly embrace, but, being a typical bloke - and a typical English bloke at that - when faced with Teutonic stubborness atop a nice pair of prominent breasts, I of course give in and agree. My life is now in the hands of maniac drivers and devout Turkish cab drivers who are suffering immense guilt at being (a) Turkish and (b) Cab drivers (the latter being the worse sin). Deep breath, hurl myself into the road and.... nothing. No cars, no maniac cab drivers, no nothing. Not only that but there are cycle paths! Real cycle paths! With real cycles on them! And they're not next to the road!!!! (ok, that's enough exclaimation marks now, it's a sign of a deranged mind or a tortured British one. Not that I have anything against a bit of mild torture, I am, after all, going out with a blonde German woman...nuff said) So, I can cycle here in safety which means...OH NO!!!! EXERCISE!!!
We regret to announce that shortly following a bout of exercise, the author was declared beyond all hope.
So now I'm suffering, but, to leave this missive on a philisophical note, isn't all life suffering? Or maybe it's just me?
(hee hee, the Teutonic goddess I live with is now complaining about my writing style. Oh goody, beatings for me tonight! X)
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