Hamburg - a whistlestop tour

Hamburg streets (the kids are running off 200m to the left)

Riverside apartment living (The kids are being held on to very tightly by their father and are wriggling and screaming 50m to the left)

More cool apartments (kids still going bananas as above)

The Police Station (the kids are running off and moaning about the sun 100m to the left)

Yesterday we went to Hamburg. I was humungously excited, especially as I'd got it confused with Dusseldorf, which is nowhere near it and probably nothing like it. The trouble is that I was aware they both had docks and I had initially known that Dusseldorf has some gorgeous Frank Gehry architecture at it's docks, and then over the mists of time (ok, the past month or two) somehow I started thinking they were in Hamburg.

Luckily for the rest of my family, I did some checking (which is highly unlike me) on the internet on Friday night and discovered my error, otherwise I would have had them trekking for hours round the docks in search of non-existant buildings.

Our plan had been that I would book a hotel room during last week and we would stay overnight. But with the general lethargy of being under the weather I just didn't get on to it, so we decided we would just chance it and get a room when we got there. But oh, what a horrible journey. Don't get me wrong we enjoyed flying along the Autobahn, scooting past endless flat fields, and seeing all the wind farms on the way, but Hamish had decided this did not fit with his plans for the weekend (I don't want to go to school, I want to go see baby animals) & did nothing but moan for the entire journey, and once we arrived in Hamburg, Orla decided it was her turn to have tantrums, scream and be generally horrible.

Stevie and I both felt worn out and even though our first stop was lunch in a thankfully empty cafe, we both thought it might be an idea just to finish up quickly and go home.

Hamburg was lovely. A nice mix of modern and old. Lovely waterways and attractive buildings. I spent a fair amount of my time fuming though as the kids kept running away and not coming back. Despite enjoying fuming through the city with it's Elle Decoration-like riverside view apartments, and the Habitat I had to speed round and hastily murmur "Oh I like that!", "Oh I need those", "Oh, looking at this sofa I do realise I miss the UK", I think we were glad to get back home. Stevie and I were both drained by the kids, and we've realised we 'may' need to re-evaluate our plans of visiting more German cities over the summer if this was a blueprint for how the kids would be. Stevie is currently lying in bed trying to work out how we can navigate the whole of Germany incorporating a trip to German Legoland just to keep the kids happy. He may be some time, I imagine it requires some serious inventiveness.

And today, in a return to normal programming, we will be visiting some baby animals. And having an easy life. Aah!

Timing is... everything

I've had a 'What am I doing here?' morning. Sometimes something will happen and I'll just suddenly find myself wondering why on earth I am bothering to put myself though this. Of course I know the answer, it's not the obvious question I'm asking myself.

This morning we arrived at Kita and had just gone to wait for the lift, when another little boy arrived with his grandmother. There were other parents and kids there too, but this little boy came up to Hamish and hit him. And I just couldn't think of what to say in German straight away, and then the moment passed and by the time I had formulated the words in my head it felt like it was too late.

The grandmother had already had a talk to the little boy, but I felt like there should have been an apology to Hamish at least. I wanted to say "Hold on a minute!", and I could have said "Woah! Ein Minuten bitte!" but all I could think of was 'I don't know the verb for 'to hold' and that got in the way of thinking of simpler alternatives. I felt so frustrated and angry with myself, and it left me feeling totally downhearted for the rest of the morning.

I hate not being able to express myself properly, and instead of saying what I want to say, constantly having to think of simpler ways of expressing myself. But to be honest I haven't really had any moments before this where I've really needed to say something and the timing has mattered. That seems to be the thing that has left me feeling most frustrated and wishing I was just back 'home' telling random people exactly what I thought of them.

Except I don't really do that. In fact after being sat in German class I spoke to Stevie and told him how I was feeling and he said "But did you tell Hamish just to hit him back?". Well, apart from the fact that I don't want my kids hitting other kids, it did cross my mind, but I thought to myself "Crap, I can't even say that because I bet one of these other parents speaks English and they'll know what I'm saying and then I'll seem like the bad mummy". So I stayed frustrated with my muteness.

Well I did until I got upstairs, and then in front of this grandmother I told Hamish's teacher that this boy had hit him and pointed at the culprit and asked if they could keep an eye on things as I wouldn't like to think that this might be another reason why Hamish is hating Kita. But even that didn't shake my gloom, and normally being really obvious like that would cancel out my earlier frustration and amuse me back into a normal state of happiness.

My German is annoying me at the moment. I know the more I do and the longer I stay on the course, the better my German will get and the better equipped I'll be to respond to people the way I want. But at the same time I am feeling like I don't have enough time to properly go over what I have learnt and as new stuff goes in, some of the old stuff is just leaking straight back out again. After this morning and thinking, 'I should be able to deal with a situation like that: I've been learning German for 14 weeks!' I can't help but think 'What is the point?'. But it could also be that we've just been doing endless grammar and I'm feeling my vocabulary isn't getting any better. Who knows. I'm booked on until April. So I have time to decide if I want to go further at that point or whether I want to have a break from it for a bit.

What your toddler may be doing now:

Following on from my last post, Mwa suggested I find a book to resolve my Hamish-hating-Kita problem. I cannot remember the last time I looked in a baby/child development book. The pages of my 'toddler' ones have barely been opened. I used to really love these books, especially after having Orla and you could see what she might be up to in the forthcoming months and think what a smart baby she was when she was doing things advanced for her age and curse her for not being able to do half the things she should be able to do for her age.

Before the move I got rid of all my baby ones and on checking just now I have found 3 'toddler' ones: What to Expect: the toddler years; The Best Friends Guide to toddlers; and god knows how, but 'The Contented Toddler Years' by Gina Ford. (I must have been having a really bad day with Orla when I bought that. In fact when I flick it to see where it wants most to open (cause it looks pretty much untouched) I see what was going on...'sleep problems'. Desperate times and all that.

So, back to my Hamish problem. According to 'What to Expect' my 30 month old toddler should be able to put on an article of clothing, identify 1 picture by naming, jump up, name 6 body parts, and identify 4 pictures by pointing. I think we have pretty much got those covered except perhaps the jumping part. Hamish is dreadful at jumping. Problem-wise, the best I can see that they have is 'Separation Anxiety at Preschool'. They suggest that the transition between home and school can be tough for a toddler and it can take some children up to a year to get used to it. Eek.They suggest that if your childs separation anxiety is 'unexplained' to read another passage at the back of the book. There's talk there of "unexplained bruises and other signs of abuse". This does not make for good pre-bedtime reading for someone like myself.

On to 'the Best Friends Guide'- I've always liked these books. They're humourous and make you feel ok about being generally crap at parenting. On this occasion it has precisely.. eh, no advice to give on my Hamish situation. Ah well, can't have everything.

Lastly, let's see what Gina has to say: "a firm goodbye, a kiss and a hug, follwed by a prompt departure is easiest for a child to deal with". She also says "Some children develop a fear of certain people and places... . Role playing can be an effective and fun way of helping them conquer these fears.... . Read him books that involve happy stories of a child visiting [Kita]". At least her approach is consistent. I will try a firm goodbye tomorrow and advise Hamish to keep a stiff upper lip even if his bottom one is wobbling. Wish me luck!

Eye spy something beginning with Aaaaaahhhh!!

check out that pupil dilation!

I had my proper eye clinic appointment this morning. I was meant to go when I arrived here as I had seen my own opthalmic surgeon the day before we moved here and he suspected that I might need some additional laser surgery. It has taken me 6 months to actually see a doctor. At first I went to find a GP and I got that crazy woman doctor that loved clowns. She seemed to be reluctant to refer me to anyone and as I didn't know the system here very well I just didn't really do anything about it. Eventually on my second or third time seeing her she told me that I could just go to any clinic and get it done, saying there was even one on the corner.

At that point I realised that she probably didn't know what she was talking about as the 'clinic' on the corner turned out to be more or less an opticians who also carried out laser vision correction surgery - not the same thing at all. The thought of letting some Saturday boy loose on my eyes doesn't really appeal.

Then I changed doctor (GP) and at the same time found myself a diabetes consultant. I asked my diabetes consultant for a name/recommendation and she gave me a card for a woman who she said was understanding (for those with phobias) and would be qualified to do my laser surgery. I made an appointment with her and then looked up her website. Isn't the internet a wonderful thing? I found out that this doctor practised cosmetic eye surgery and acupuncture. Yes, quite. I do have massive bags under my eyes that need seeing to, but once again, not quite what I was really after.

Throughout all this I was having lots of appointments where I kept having problems with not having my passport with me, or my health insurance company wasn't being recognised as a proper health insurance company and of course the language barrier was a little troublesome. With my phobia I like to know exactly what is going to be happening to my eyes and I like to be able to ask to administer my own eye drops, and I generally like to explain that I am not mental, I just don't like people near my eyes and that I find it all quite difficult. So there was a bit of me that really wanted to delay the appointment until I could scream "Woah, what do you think you're doing to me???" in German.

So, I ended up going on the Toytown website and found a recommendation for a doctor at the eye clinic in the Red Cross hospital. So today was the day, and I managed to answer nearly all the questions in German despite being a nervous wreck. I assumed my German would go out the window when I felt so nervous, but I think I did ok. Luckily I recognised most of the equipment so I knew what tests were being done, and the words for 'vitrectomy' and 'retinopathy' seem practically identical.

The doctor when I eventually saw him spoke very good English (though when I made the appointment my number one concern was more that he was a specialist in the area that I needed him to be a specialist and not his language skills), and he had a really lovely manner and was very gentle around my eyes. The good news for me is that I got away today without needing to get anything done. The bad news is that I have a new problem at the back of my right eye where I have some liquid pooling that if it gets worse would require me to have a drug injected into my eye every 8 weeks. I go back in 3 months to see how the situation is, but as long as I take good care of my diabetes and watch my blood pressure then it should be no worse. I will be accepting donations of high strength valium and diazapam in the event that eye injections become necessary.

Thank god it's over for now. I am shattered with the stress of it all.

I'll keep you warm in December.

Cuddle in Hamish, it's going to be a cold winter

There are a lot of things to get used to in Germany for the avid consumer. God knows it's been tough for some of us to get our heads round the shops being closed on a Sunday - taking it one day at a time my friends. One day at a time.

Shopping is more my specialist subject than Stevie's, so why I listened to him saying that we should wait a while before buying the kids snow suits I simply cannot fathom. Oh, yeah, that was it: it was September.

So I left it till yesterday, last night to be precise to go and get them. I was a little anxious before we set off as a guy in my German class had said that he'd heard that once they sell out of things here, they don't instantly replenish the stock like they do in other shopping-friendly nations.

First stop was Karstadt Sports. We got Orla's snowflake outfit there as modelled in the photo above. But nothing in Hamish's size. Then we went to C&A (I'm sure one day it'll make a comeback in the UK, and you'll all go 'Yessica'-mad, and shed a little tear for the fact that you're now in the Yessica category. Best face it now. You are no longer welcome in 'Clockhouse'.). There was nothing there either in small gentlemans size.

After that we went to H&M - nothing, and then we started working our way along the length of the Ku'Damm. The thing about the Ku'Damm is you start off with H&M and Zara and then you get into your slightly more expensive Esprit and it's like, and then you end up like us in Timberland and The North Face. Neither of these had anything for children under 5, but if they had we would have bought whatever they had. We were in the dangerous mindset where desperation had set in, and we had realised that it did in fact seem to be true that stock replenishment is not really very popular. Even normally super-practical Stevie would have handed over a stack of money if there had just been something suitable to buy. I know this because I am now the proud owner of the most expensive gloves I have ever owned in my life.

While we were in The North Face I started to realise that our next stop was going to have to be Chanel or Louis Vuitton. The further you go along the Ku'Damm the more designer-y it gets. It was lucky that we ran out of time and the shops were shutting. I don't know if I could take Hamish to Kita if he was decked out like Posh Spice on a skiing holiday.

I ordered Hamish a more reasonably priced ski suit online when we got home. Sometimes I just don't know what I would do without the internet. E-commerce is a beautiful thing.

The snobbery of the Vorderhaus

Can you see my neighbour who is out on his balcony, wind, rain, snow, or shine making phone calls in his dressing gown?

What an icy blast of air I felt when I opened the door on to the balcony to take this photo this morning. Finally it feels like winter is here. We got a little snow yesterday and the day before, but it didn't really feel that cold. So today is the day I will finally go and get a winter coat and I guess Kita will probably already be composing a letter to me saying that the kids need those thick snowsuits, 2 sets, one for outdoors, one for in.

The purpose of my chilly (rare) visit on to the balcony was that I finally discovered the secret of the 'Vorderhaus (front house) snobbery'. Eons ago when we first moved into this apartment our old upstairs neighbour indicated that being in the Vorderhaus was far better than being in the side or rear houses - these are the ones you can see in the photo. I wasn't really sure why, and assumed that it was because she lived in the Vorderhaus and maybe didn't like some of the people in the other houses.

A little while ago I went a wander round the back of the other side of the building to see where the rear (hinterhaus) came out on to the street. It doesn't. It's literally a concrete wall. Obviously there would have been other buildings attached before they got destroyed in the war, but the process of redeveloping the building from the ruined shell has left it as a big blank wall. I'm not sure whether the bank would have gone up before this building was properly re-built, but nonetheless it has sandwiched -in the rest of the building.

I started reading Ian McEwan's 'The Innocent' a couple of days ago. It's about a British guy who goes to Berlin as part of a British-American surveillance team. In it he meets a woman who he visits in the Hinterhaus. Suddenly, it all became clear! He says...

'The apartments at the rear of the old Berlin blocks were traditionally the cheapest and most cramped. They had once housed the servants whose masters lived in the grander quarters at the front facing the road. Those at the rear had windows facing on to the courtyard, or across a narrow space to the next building.'

Now I wonder whether the apartments in the Vorderhaus were much bigger than what we're in now. The Canadians below us have around 380 square metres, which seems big enough to warrant servants. There's is over two floors but if you were to have one complete floor of the Vorderhaus then that would probably amount to the same. I can't really imagine that there would be servants in anything smaller, but I could be wrong. A cleaner would certainly be nice for this place, and maybe a cook, and well, life would be a little easier with a nanny I guess, and maybe even a butler or maid.

Tell me something I don't know

Would you like an ice-cream?
No thanks, I'd better not.
Why is that then?
Oh, I have constipation.
The doctor said I shouldn't eat ice-cream.
Would you be allowed some vegetables?
Oh yes, that should be fine.

This is one of many 'two-people-having-a-casual-lunch' dialogues I got to act out today in German class. I also threw myself into the role of #1 woman suffering from diarrhea who can't eat cake, but can manage chocolate.

These situations made me laugh, not just because I couldn't help wondering if this might be typical lunch time chit-chat between friends and colleagues, or even patron and waiter, but because I have noticed that my class has a tendency to play out these dialogues in real life with strangers who happen to come out with random opening lines from previous dialogues we have practised to death. I'm sure the idea is that we could improvise with many other words of our own choosing, but when you've got constipation lodged in your mind it can be very difficult to stray from the script into something more original and perhaps more accurate.

The first time it happened we (as a class) were crossing the road at the end of a tea break and an unsuspecting stranger just happened to feed us the opening line from the #two hitchhikers meet and enjoy a roadside cigarette routine. Imagine their surprise when we all announced that yes, we all had a light, and enquired where they were off to. Luckily, the Korean's are all mad smokers so we didn't look like a complete bunch of crazies, but it was close.

I myself on being asked questions I can truely say I completely understand from start to finish, have been known to answer with unwarranted levels of enthusiasm, over really quite dull questions. Others have reported similar experiences where they have been asked the right questions by waiters. The trouble is when these moments occur we feel completely elated that we are hearing something and understanding it and even have an answer ready, and can respond without stumbling over our grammar and taking 2 minutes to answer. It's a wonderful feeling!

Be thankful for the NHS

Another weekend of visitors over, another week of German class, and another grim visit to the doctor. German class is still quite enjoyable though I wish I could learn more words and sentences with more practical application in my day to day life. Last week we learned how to rent an apartment, talk about our square meterage, and discuss house rules. All fair enough, but we've all been through this process already without being able to speak German. It's just a bit 'shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted'.

On Friday I phoned my doctor's surgery speaking my very best German and told them I needed a prescription. I'd spoken to the doctor about it before and he had told me that he wasn't sure what it might be called over here, so I did him a favour and Googled it for him, before making the call on Friday. "No problem" they said. "Just come in and pick up your prescripton and make an appointment to have it administered". So I cycled there in the cold and rain this morning with my passport and every other piece of documentation that they would be likely to ask for.

Admittedly, it struck me as odd that you could just ask the receptionist for medication and they would just make you up a prescription with no questions asked, but sure enough I got there and they gave me the prescription. The paper literally brushed my fingertips before she whipped it back off me saying she maybe better just check with the doctor. Grr... She came back and tore it up in front of me and told me that they couldn't give me it and I'd need to go and see another doctor and get the prescription from them.

Already running wildly late for German class, I considered giving up but then realised I'd just have to go through this palava again another day and miss even more German. So off I went to find this other doctor. Did I mention it was raining ? Or that my bum was so wet from the saddle that I looked like I'd wet myself? Eventually found the doctor I needed, though strangely not the one they had recommended who should have been in the same building. Once again I showed my passport, insurance card, European Health card, etc, etc, filled out forms and got myself the prescription printed out. Then they told me I could come for my appointment on the 19th? Did I mention that I needed it this week? My vocabulary does not yet extend far enough to allow me to express feelings of panic, but obviously my facial expressions transcend language barriers. I now have a prescription and can take it with me tomorrow morning, and still have an appointment for the 19th - though for what I really have no clue.

I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to that appointment as I don't even know if this doctor will speak any English. Still, as my German is coming on leaps and bounds I will be able to ask her whether she keeps a sledge in her loft and tell her she is not allowed to mount an aerial on the roof. And if all else fails, I guess I can muster up a smile.

How to make friends & interrogate people.

My new friend: the fish counter lady in Edeka.

I've had some pretty torturous conversations with some Germans since I've been here. And I mean the kind of conversations that are such hard work mentally that you feel like you need a little sit down afterwards. These for me, tend to take place with people who speak not a single word of English which means I can't rely on slipping the odd English word into an otherwise difficult sentence and allowing my brain not to implode as it carries out a ruthless search for any word that might be a close approximation to the word that I am really wanting to use but don't actually know.

But since starting my course I now feel like the German that I do speak has been validated by someone and marked as correct so I have oodles more confidence in my questions and responses. Before, it felt I think like there was a possibility that I might just be guessing the words and spitting them out through my random word generating mouth.

At Kita yesterday, I was stopped and asked "Bist du die Mama aus Schottland?". Having just spent about 7 hours going over this enthralling question with my classmates, even I was surprised at just how enthusiastically I answered her. "Ja! Das bin ich!", I pretty much shouted. She would have thought it was like I had been waiting all my life for someone to ask me that. But such it seems is the way for those who FINALLY really KNOW that they are understanding things properly and being understood. It's such a pleasure that you want to use all your words at once. With literally anyone.

And so this takes us nicely back to the beginning: my new friend. Over the past few weeks, maybe months, I've had some really hellish conversations with the woman who works behind the fish counter in Edeka. I don't know what I really want to say, she doesn't know what I am trying to say, and usually it ends up with me acting out the components of the meal I am trying to make. She was the person I first spoke to about stock cubes (might want to make a cup of strong coffee right about now, my stock cube conversations are not exactly enthralling). The fact that this woman, it turned out, didn't speak English didn't put me off continuing with trying to explain what I was after - it's like once you've started you've got to keep going, you know? And then you start bringing in hand actions and miming.

Anyway, this woman always seemed to be my first port of call when I needed to ask someone whether parsley might really be called Peterslie, or if there is a reason why 8 out of 10 onions I buy are bad in the middle. I'm quite bad at not recognising people again who I don't really know, so I think each time I just assumed it was a different person until I realised I was trapped in another difficult questioning session with the same woman again.

So this woman has grown to know me and quite possibly dread me. She has taught me practically week in and week out how to ask her to take the skin off my salmon, and other little handy phrases. So, yesterday, I was chatting to Orla while we were picking up some pork, and I heard someone call "Oh hello!" in my direction. I looked to my right and here was the fish counter lady. She asked how I was getting on (as on a previous day I had told her I would be a marvel of fish-related chat in 5 weeks now that I had started my German course). She made the mistake of asking me what i had been learning, and all of a sudden she was the victim of a barrage of questions relating to her personal life. "Are you married? Do you have children? What age are you? Are you from Berlin? What's your address? Can you spell that? Slowly?"

I may have inadvertantly given the impression of being a none-too-subtle identity thief, or the new-in-town local nutjob, but she didn't seem to mind, and for me it was just lovely to get it all out to a real person, not a Spaniard playing the part of Herr Schmidt. The thing was though that I was so busy asking the questions and feeling all good about it that I didn't pay a blind bit of notice to her answers. At the end of it all she told me that she would like to learn a bit of English from me and I could learn some German from her. She seems nice, and looks about the same age as me. I dream of days where me and Fish Counter Lady are sitting having a latte discussing whether she enjoys playing tennis and going to the cinema with friends, or if she might prefer eating pizza and reading comics.

Stevie of course just thinks I am going mental and need a trip home.

God bless the Canadians

There's none of your fancy anti-bacterial hand sanitising hand gel at frequent stop-off points here. They make you lick your fingers once you've touched a penguin.

So, we're half way through our first week in the new flat. I thought I liked it, but now as of tonight, I love it. I have met quite a few of my neighbours over the past few days, and they are all pretty friendly. One is taking me to the market tomorrow morning at 8:15 (she expects that I will be up anyway with the kids. I didn't tell her that they keep me so occupied with their incessant demands that I generally can't get out before 10:30.). I may have to go in my pyjamas...

We have been invited to meet a selection of neighbours for tea and coffee on Sunday which I am really looking forward to. I plan on quizzing them on all sorts of topics, and it'll be a relief to have a conversation with someone who speaks good english rather than attempting to have conversations with my poor German. We had thought that there were quite a few British people in the building (or 'the house' as they call it). There is an element of snobbery here too that I have picked up, There is the 'Vorderhaus' which is the front building and then there are side houses which you access via the main front door. Ours, the Vorderhaus, has double security, an extra set of locked doors, and that seems to be what sets us a little peg above our scabby side-house neighbours.

My neighbour upstairs that is taking me to the market talked about the others in the house as though everyone is a Diplomat. Whether they are or not I am not sure yet. But I guess we'll find out on Sunday. Our landlord is the German Ambassador for (well I won't tell you, or you'll Google him and then find his German address and all of a sudden I'll have all 15 of you on my doorstep looking for some Bratwurst and Robinson's Finest Apple & Blackcurrant).

Anyway, I just headed out to get some milk and I met my downstairs neighbours. They are Canadian and they were really nice. I could get to like them a lot and already I am sad that they are leaving in September. They were really friendly and gave me lots of top tips on where to locate things locally, and when I commented on their fine Kettle Chips (SALT & VINEGAR!!!!!) they gave me one of their bags as a housewarming gift. Then they went on to give me their details for their hidden broadband network, and I swear, my happiness levels hit the roof. So I sped throught the streets to get the milk while chanting their network name and password to myself until I got home and here I am! Lovely, lovely, internet access.

So as for the apartment itself, well it's great though Stevie has complained that it is "too big". I don't believe that it could ever be too big: I just haven't bought enough stuff yet. Stevie has always wanted to live life as a minimalist, and now that he has this feeling of empty space, he doesn't like it. Maybe he has gradually become a clutter-lover over the years of me quietly, furtively furnishing houses piece by piece with things he 'might not notice if I don't say anything'.

Anyway, the removal men decided they would finish on Tuesday without doing any unpacking. They were German and spoke no English and hadn't been told that they were meant to unpack the boxes taking everything out on to the floor. So they came back the next day and it was really hectic. It would have been easier if I had just done it myself, box by box, but as I would have had to get rid of the boxes myself this way then we just got on with it. Orla and Hamish were really excited about seeing their toys, and I caught Hamish trailing round behind one of the men holding his Wonderpets book aloft asking him to read it. It would have been much easier to do the unpacking without the kids, but Stevie sensibly chose to go to work leaving it to me.

So the place is a mess but I am slowly working my way through the various piles that are many and varied in all the rooms. We have spoken to our Relocation Service Provider (Heidi) about the fact that we have no hot water at all in the en-suite and only get a centimetre of hot water in the kitchen sink before it runs cold. Heidi, I have noticed can't be bothered to really help us or suffers from a strong strain of such negativity that were she to be psychometrically tested, there's no chance she'd be a match for this job.

I told her about the water in the kitchen and she told me that it might be just a 5 litre tank. I doubt whether we are getting 3 litres, and if that is the case then it's not even enough to wash the dishes, so how is that acceptable? Then she told us that there would be no chance of getting a parking permit because we still have the rental car, and that the local council would want us to wait and pay for parking for the next 8 weeks until our normal car gets delivered. I thought that was a load of rubbish, and Stevie ended up phoning work and asking them how they felt about paying for parking as we are ineligble for a permit, and all of a sudden, today we have a permit. Next on the list was the Kindergeld. It's like your child benefit, or family allowance if you like. Stevie will be paying German tax, but according to Heidi we would not be eligible for this as we are only here for 2 years on a temporary contract. Well, today we met some Americans in the swing park who have been here 3 weeks and are over doing fellowships. They won't be paying German tax - but yet they are entitled to both reduced Kita (nursery) fees and KinderGeld.

Finally, Heidi was round this morning and we had a disturbing chat about the tv. Part of the package is that we get a basic Sky package allowing us some British channels. I don't know, maybe in amongst me harping on about Robinson's juice, I may have mentioned, how much I am missing tv, and BBC World News is just not rocking my world that much. Anyway, she asked whether we were able to receive BBC World News through the tv. I said yes, but not even with a signal that you could describe as acceptable to watch or listen to. We then got on to the subject of when we might be getting the tv sorted out. To which she looked a bit surprised, so I explained that this was part of the deal (hey, that was the bit that had me sold on this whole idea). So she tells me that this is not possible, that we can't get this in Berlin. What? What rubbish more like. I reminded her that there are satellites which beam CBeebies all around the globe for people like me. So the next argument was that we would not be allowed a satellite dish on this building. I think we could get one behind the balcony at the front without it being seen by anyone. And if not, my new Canadian friends told me of a company that'll do you cable with British channels, plus phone and broadband. Sadly I have forgotten the name of this vital company as I was busy trying to remember the more important broadband login details.

So I am getting a bit fed up with Heidi. The tv was the thing that made me realise she just wants to do as little as possible for us. I'll wait and see what happens at the beginning of next week, and then maybe we'll nudge Rolls-Royce into making a 'MAKE IT HAPPEN!' phone call.

I've added a quick 'Let's touch the penguins' photo for you.

An offer you can refuse quite easily

Stevie, in case you haven't already realised, was raised by wolves and in his early 20's was discovered in a sunny glade by his 'parents' while out enjoying a picnic. There are many reasons why I believe this to be fact, and the more years I spend with him, the more convinced I am. While I don't want to publicly embarrass him I shall briefly list just a few key examples that have had me wondering...

1. S: "Where does leather come from?", F: "Where do you think leather comes from?", S: "I don't know? Monkey hands?".
2. Doing one of these word puzzles with a picture question in the centre: S: "What is this big rat thing?" F: "A badger"

Actually, there are many more examples but I think these two cover it pretty accurately. I love him to bits but I wonder how someone can get to 35 without ever having seen a badger, even on TV. He explains it by saying that as a child he wasn't interested in TV and didn't read much and really only wanted to play football. But it always seems odd to me that you can avoid just learning things by osmosis.

Apart from an all-encompassing lack of general knowledge, Stevie also seems to have a bit of a blank when it comes to etiquette or the general way that people do things. I find it harder to think of examples as our conversations on why people just do it that way tend to end up with me being very frustrated and arguing "that's just the way it is!". Sometimes the fact that he questions convention is a good thing, but mostly it's just odd.

So following the great bike robbery at the weekend Stevie has embraced the internet and has started looking on eBay for a new bike. I think he was looking for his actual bike, but then he found that there was a wealth of choice and exciting new bikes that he hadn't previously considered. I loaned him my username and password and let him bid away on whatever took his fancy. Except that's not what he's been doing. The Stevie way to eBay is to find what you're after and then contact the seller and offer them £100 less than their starting price.

Maybe I've been doing it all wrong.