Grateful: Day 20

A finch on a wall, close by.

Tiergarten Berlin – all dripping with yellows, oranges, greens and browns. So many trees. Leaves falling constantly, slow like snow, steady like tears. Calm and beautiful.

The wide smile thrown at me by the running pram-lady. Dirty teeth, brilliant eyes.

My new hair. I discovered Artcut – a hairdresser’s where they do your hair for a tenner as long as you don’t mind waiting. Like Supercuts, only Berlin cool and genuinely cheap.

As soon as the lady started to wash my hair, I heard myself telling her what a great job she’d done in my head. Confident and professional, attentive and skilled. She sorted out my hair without making me look like a shaved dog. She was fab.

And I went back to the other hairdresser’s. I wanted to go to a café nearby, but when I got there, the gropey haircut man was outside chatting to a friend. He gave me his big wide smile and I turned around and cycled off, but on the way, that felt wrong. I imagined telling him, very calmly but very clearly, how I felt about the experience of a few days before.

I had a knot in my stomach as I carried on away from his shop, but when I stopped and turned around, it lifted. When I got back there, he’d gone into another shop, where he was standing chatting with two male friends. I didn’t want to put myself in a position of saying it all to them, so I went back to the hairdresser’s shop itself.

I started to explain to the older man who was there when it happened, but he directed me towards a beautiful Turkish woman and indicated that I should speak to her.

I said it all simply, explained exactly what I meant (he put his hand here, he had his leg here, I felt this way, when I said something, he stopped etc.). I also said that I just wanted to let someone know that this happened and that I’d had it on my mind for the last few days.

She listened and her face was fascinating. In it I read all sorts of things. She said she was in shock, but there was a knowing there too. There was a moment when I doubted myself and I caught myself saying ‘maybe I misread the situation’ but then I repeated what had happened and how I’d felt. That’s all. That’s it. It’s said.

I thanked her for listening. As I left, she said ‘Es tut mir Leid’ – ‘I’m sorry’.

What benefit did it bring, me doing that? I’m not entirely sure, but there it is, done. I feel better, and clearer. And I don’t have that shoddy haircut any more. I like the idea of the bits of unpleasantness being cut away and swept up.

I had a go on a Viszla in the street, a green-eyed girl-dog with a pretty face. They are very keen on people, apparently, those dogs. Not so fussed with other dogs. They are my current favourites, tasty ginger creatures, playful and lean. They don’t have beards, it’s true, but they are such sweet-faced creatures, I can cope without.

A man laughed out loud when I smiled at him as he unlocked his bike. I passed him later, me cycling, him talking to someone. We met again at the lights. Maybe we’ll meet tomorrow, for coffee. Maybe not. It’s up to me.

Sandra continues to inspire me. Just when I thought there wasn’t room for any more clever, driven, creative women to admired, along comes another. Her hospitality is outstanding and there’s so much to talk about. She’s doing exciting projects for the love of it.

Yesterday, on the actual telly, we watched a film she’d done the dubbing and the German script for. It was excellent and I cried five times. She’s very talented, that Sandra. And I love her dog.