Woke up with a dog in my face at about 5am. Made me laugh far too much. That's what comes of sharing a living room with a long-nosed beast that's as tall as a table.I'm in Berlin deciding if it might be a good idea to come and live here. And what happens? The day before yesterday, my friend and I stumble across a job that I could do with an arm chopped off. We laugh and I promise to apply for the hell of it.
Then I get an email from Dan Fox. He always makes me smile. He's a wordmonkey. The way he puts a sentence together always has a hint of Genuß - enjoyment/appreciation - and he's a funny, pleasing person.
He asked if I was a German speaker, as he'd heard about some work going. I yessed that up big time and he passed on my details, so last night I get an email that reveals it's not just a project, it's a job. In Berlin.
I've been speaking to the agency this morning and they're in the process of arranging an interview for me, or at least a chance to go and meet them. When I spoke to them this morning, it was more a question of when than if. Now I'm not so sure, but we'll see. Whatever will be will be. It's all candy. *
The colour of my fingers (grey) tells me that I need to get outside and get moving. Get on the bike. Bumble about. Find places to be. Get the blood moving.
I'm grateful for my dream of a few days ago. Me and Guy Atkins were the naked presenters at some big student show. In some way, his dignity was preserved a bit more than mine. Perhaps he didn't have to be fully naked. I've always said I'd love to do naked stage, but only if there's a point. This was entirely gratuitous. That's what bothered me. Not the nakedness itself. And the show was a pile of shit. Nobody wants that.
I don't feel anxious, but over the last few days I've also dreamt twice about walking around or swimming wearing a short t-shirt and no knickers. There's usually someone around that I'm trying to make a good impression with. In one, I was watching the circus, sitting on the bench and I had to keep remembering not to volunteer for anything, or I'd embarrass myself. There was vertigo in one of the half-naked dreams too... terrifying vertigo in order to get to my own home. What does all this mean?
I said goodbye to my life-threatening ladybike today. I got a graceless refund of a few Euros from the hire guy, but he was laughing again by the time he ran after me to get the key I'd forgotten to return. And a lady in a chemist sold me a tiny weeny tube of cream in an attempt to blast the persistent midge bite that's been there since July. Come on, Germany, sort out my face.
And I spent a sweet and surprising afternoon with my random stranger. Really quite other, really quite pleasing. We had coffee. That's all I'm saying.
And I had a Berliner for breakfast (not connected) and a still-warm croissant. Who could gripe about that?
My last day here today, for now at least. I fly tomorrow lunchtime. We have dog-walk and breakfast out planned, and we're going to sample the delights of proper German cooking tonight, so my sausage wish will be fulfilled. I will make it so.
I will say goodbye to the cafe terraces that it's really too cold to sit out on, but too tempting to resist, and to endless cups of coffee; to cruising through the city on an upright bike; to smiling at strangers (though of course, I will continue that back in England) and to this blissful friend and dog combo that I'm so grateful for.
It feels right to be leaving now. It won't be forever. I'm grateful to have discovered this city, which I visited as a teenager, but have almost no memory of. I'm sure I stayed in Spandau with a half-Swedish girl with three kidneys and a policeman father who replied to my halting question of 'where do you work?' with 'I don't work, I serve.' Cock.
Saying of the day, a Berlin phrase about big feet: Naechste Groeße Kindersarg - the next size up is a child's coffin. I nearly weed. Thank you, Sandra, for your way with words and your massive feet (same size as mine). Thank you for the new boots that just arrived, to make quite sure that last year's 'Frostbeulen experience' - frostbitten toes from walking the dog in a Berlin winter - is not repeated.
* I didn't get the interview, but I did get the message. Berlin, I'll be back!
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