Packing, yay!

I just walked home from the bank with 980euros in my pocket. You know that feeling you get when you're carrying rather alot of money that everyone's watching you? Just like, everyone knows..? Yup. Not a walk I want to repeat.
The girl at the bank today asked if I've started packing. My answer was that I'd piled all the clothes I _want_ to be able to take on a chair, looked at it and went, "Heh. That's too many." ...Then left it. She looked up from her screen, laughed politely and said something along the lines of, "When are you leaving again? Tomorrow? Hmm, yes, better start that packing properly!" This is the bank clerk talking. I felt like I'd failed at a bit of life. Which wasn't a fun feeling to have with 980euros in my pocket.
I admit it freely though - I am not a good packer. I always overpack the wrong things. Like, too many clothes and then I forget my toothbrush, or my key. Or I remember my mp3 player and my book, but forget to write down my train times, or check if my phone's charged. When I went to my friend's Uni for three nights I managed a normal sized bag, but stuffed it so full that it exploded all over her room when I got there. And I ended up discovering I had one whole outfit too many, but I'd forgotten the mini sewing kit I was going to take with me so I could finish off her Christmas present. Needless to say, then, my sister is checking my packing-list to work out- wait. Wait just a minute. I was going to say that my sister (the sensible packing one) is checking my list and will be checking (and rechecking times infinity, probably) the suitcase, but I'm no longer sure I need to get her to do that. There's been all this "Be thrifty, no you may not take a party dress unless you can wear it during the day too!" thing, but she's just said she wants to take at least three towels...
I think I'm just gonna muddle on without. Worst comes to the worst, my hand luggage will be oversized and heavy, and I'll probably forget to take a towel at all and have to buy one. Nevermiiind. As long as I don't forget tickets, passport, or plane times (I will tattoo reminders on my hands if need be), and don't leave my suitcase anywhere (has nearly been done before), I reckon that even if I trip over my own feet when getting on the plane, the holiday will go fine. In the end, I'm with my girlfriends, and they'll be there to give me a boost (or a slap round the back of my head) if need be. I can always rely on them to bail me out of packing/organising-fail trouble.
... Right, girls?

The plans of a English-German girl.

So I've restarted one of my other blogs! It's been revamped as "The Diary of an Apple Waitress." Sounds a bit boring, huh? Maybe it's only me that gets kicks out of other people's oddnesses, but for those who are interested, take a look!

Other news, hmm. Well let's go for... Christmas! Yes, it's not December yet, and usually I don't start feeling Christmassy till at the earliest Decemeber the first, but I've been planning a Christmassy holiday, so it's hard for all that Christmassy planning not to rub off a bit of excitement on me (That's alot of Christmassys). Some of my girlfriends and I are going on our first ever group holiday to Berlin for week, to revel in the German weirdnesses (Man, have I been missing those), to soak in the Berlin sights, and to explore the Weihnachtsmarkte! (That's Christmas Markets to all you British folk.) I haven't been to Berlin for nearly two years, and I have missed it.

Some odd facts about that great city:
- You hardly ever see anyone with an mp3 player. When my sister and I were there last, we spotted only six in the whole week.
- It's populated mostly by people of a Turkish descent (Berlin is one of the biggest Turkish citys in the world), which means that a natural blonde is very, very rare. Which earns me alot of stares.
- It's dirty. In summer, you can run your finger along a centimeter of wall, and your finger will come away literally black. The shower water tends to end up a delightful grey colour. Think of London, then times by two.
- There's a currywurst (spicy sausages) stand on literally every second corner. They give you your currywurst slathered in paprika ketchup, with a white roll, and you can get a black coffee to go with it. Sooo yummy. And there's at least one bakery for every two streets, and at least one kebab shop for every block. Crepe stands are pretty popular too.
- When Germans have a sweet section in a proper supermarket, it's not just half a shelf unit. It's at least one full shelf unit (usually two), floor to ceiling, an aisle long, stacked with chocolates and sweets.
- In Germany (odd fact out, but it's weird), chocolate is primarily a summer thing, rather than a winter thing like in England.
- Berlin isn't half-hearted about its Wiehnachtsmarkte. They'll close off streets if they have to, lining them with dozens of small wooden huts, decorated with fake snow (if it isn't already snowing - sometimes even if it is) and strung with fairy lights. The markets smell of roasted and sugared nuts, which you can buy inn paper cones, caramalised grapes (rather than toffee apples) and mulled wine.
- German's have an awesome tradtional meet-up called Cafe und Kuchen which - instead of afternoon tea - is basically Coffee and Cakes. Germans will invite half a dozen friends over at about three or four o'clock, and they'll sit down for a good few hours of hobnobbing over a table groaning with cakes and pastries (you rememeber I said about all those bakeries..?) and will drink copious amounts of coffee through out. For me, a non-tea-drinker, this is an ultimate afternoon treat.

Ah yes, that wonderful, ridiculous city. And this time, I'm planning on joining my friends in doing the complete tourist thing. When we went before, it was mainly to see family, but this time I'm planning on learning and soaking up my German heritage as much as I can. This will include trips to the Holocaust Memorial and the Brandenburg Gate, another visit to Checkpoint Charlie, and of course all the markets. But also will include sampling the Berlin nightlife. Which, going by reports from friends, should be interesting... Roll on the 16th!
(That's alot of parentheses too.)

An average in-kitchen Saturday afternoon.

"It's not a question, it's a life!"
"And that is 45thousand. And _that_ is 45thousand. And THAT is please. If I throw myself off the chair, you know why.!
"It's shocking, I might cry. I'M NOT CRYING."
"I keep spilling my teeea!"
"Mum, it's going to be reeeally weird without chocolate bits in. I'm confused."
"Well that's because your stairs are slanted. How many years have I been telling you to unslant those stairs?! And NOTHING HAPPENS."
"Well, you need to keep trying."
"YOU'RE very trying. Heh heh."
"I just got chocolate in my tea!"
"We need like the Dyson hand dryers that go *kkkkrrrrcccchhhhh*"
"Try not to use the different, um, the thing... You have to leave it otherwise it goes, um nono, you have to go..."
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!"
"What do you mean you're not hot enough yet?"
"Well I'm only a centigrade not hot enough, but you know, the thought's there."

Pre-Birthday-Surprise-Party-Special.

I have the most beautiful friends.
So my birthday is coming up. Kinda an important one, actually. Milestone being marked, and all that. And yet, after the five-month planning, and four-day party and celebration of last year’s birthday, I sadly had precious little planning energy this year. A get together with all my girls was in order, yes! But half of us have started new jobs. A couple were on holiday, or staying in their Uni places. Complications, complications, complications. My sister and two of my girlfriends kept saying, “What are you going to do? What are you going to plan?” And I found myself saying, “Ohhh, I don’t know. Maybe someone else could plan it this year, I just can’t be bothered to get my head round people’s dates and all that,” with a sadly childish pout on my face. Did I think anyone else would step up to the mark and start making the plans? Course not! It’s a momentous task! If I had not the willpower to work at it, how could I expect someone else to?
July 16th, the earache started. Ow. The amount of messages and commands to get better very soon were gratifying. July 18th, my first ever doctors appointment, my first ear infection, and my very first antibiotics prescription. The hurrahs for drugs and getting-well-ness were pleasing. July 20th, I’m feeling slightly better, and no longer like my head’s going to implode with pain whenever I sit up, and the cheering on of my recovery continued. I felt so loved…
July 21st. A bad day for me. I was tired, grouchy, emotional. Still in some pain. My sister tided my room for me while I was in the shower. My mum kept telling me to just go back to bed to rest instead of moping round the house, pretending I could be helpful with something. The doorbell rings, and mum yells at me to answer it, and I trudge to the door. And there on the doorstep are my sister and three of my girlfriends, dressed to the nines, smiles on their faces and a big bunch of red roses held out in front of them.
Apparently, this had taken a month to plan. To get all my girls together in one place. My illness had meant that the dinner out that was also planned had to be postponed, but we went to my friend’s house where the other girls were waiting, had a picnic in the park on cushions, and spent the rest of the evening and night half-asleep in front of a good many films. A birthday celebration tailored to the unwell. It was beautiful. A pre-birthday surprise party that was full of special <3

Fifteen years in the making.

The family that's closeted in my heart.
I close my eyes and your images appear on my eyelids;
Photos at the top of the stairs.
I haven't seen you in so long, but I can now...
The family that's tied tight to my heart.
Blonde looking after three brown heads:
two sons, one daughter; two who I've loved,
one who I've left, one who I never knew at all.
The family that's pulling at my heart.
You've been through your joys and celebrations,
your pains and battles,
But fifteen years in the making,
this storm beats them all.
The family that hurts my heart.
I close my eyes and your troubles grow in my chest;
crumbs trodden into the carpet.
With a shrug I could push them away,
with a careless smile I could laugh them away,
But your family is too close to my heart.

Butterfly lost.

A delicate, translucent thing.
It's easier this way.
The reality causes sickness;
a hurt that makes me sob.
She's trapped.
Between the fingers of her lovers.
Against the window;
one, two, three, on and on.
A desperate fluttering against the pane.
Damage done to soft, soft wings.
It hurts but it alleviates.
In that tiny body is a burden;
fear, worry, fear.
And this is my terror:
I cannot cup my hands around her.
Stop her. Carry her to safety.
Small, fragile and broken.
A delicate, translucent thing.
It's easier this way.

The Mad Hatter's Tea Party!

The Caterpillar came with bubbles instead of a pipe, and spent the afternoon drinking red nectar from a teacup. The White Rabbit was at one point spotted up a tree, and ended up marrying the Queen of Hearts. The Dormouse didn't fall asleep once, and was the children's favourite during our stroll through town to our Tea Party area. The Queen of Hearts left felt hearts almost everywhere she went, and beheaded everyone at least twice. The March Hare was shockingly late, and transformed before our eyes from normality to apparent insanity. Alice finally caught the White Rabbit, and even remembered the prizes for the Caucus Race.
The Mad Hatter danced with wild abandon across the grass, scattered invitations left and right, and was wished a Happy Birthday by three complete strangers. Silly people. Did they not know it was my Un-Birthday..?

Kudos to you, my old friend, whose idea it was to celebrate an Un-Birthday in such a way. I can still feel the cold touch of my teacup handle and the jolt of each and every *Clink!*. I can still see the colour and variety of the costumes and the laughter on every face. I can still hear the cries of "Taaaaaart!" and the terrible puns that circulated. I can still taste the strawberry jam and the pink icing on the cupcakes.

Here is an offering: Snapshot images of parts of a Mad Hatter bedecked in black and grey and blue, and covered in buttons and ribbons and lace.

Fob watch - an early Birthday present - and waistcoat.



Hat! An awkward angle, but there it is.



An old pair of black heels, especially decorated.



Finally, here she is. Dancing in bare feet on sun-dry grass, the Queen of Heart's fan in one hand.



For once in my life, I had a real excuse to go completely mad. I loved every minute of it.

"... Auntie's wooden leg, Auntie's wooden leg! Dee da, dee da, Auntie's wooden leg..."

Un-Birthday.

Four days. Four whole days! Fourteen pages in my journal are dedicated to this time. The celebration of my Un-Birthday gathered together the most important people in my life, and spun such a colourful, insanely beautiful celebration my eyes dance with the very thought.
A Mad Hatter's Tea Party. Dinner at Maxwells with my girls. Bad tv until one in the afternoon. A picnic in the park that brought together nearly everyone who was special to me. An all-nighter (!!) in which three films were watched and brownies made. A sunrise watched, cuddled on a stone in a park with cardies pulled tight round thin pjs. Coffee drank whilst sat on the kerb at 5:30am. A very early morning trip to the playground. An afternoon supporting a new piercing. Impromptu naps mid-afternoon. Fish and Chips in the garden, and poems and laughter and tears exchanged.
The best birthday (sorry, Un-Birthday) celebration with my darlings I have ever had. And yet my real birth-date awaits me, with promises of a family day still waiting.
My life is good.