The country with the ugliest language in the world.

I have been so busy! Which is why no blogging for a while, and certainly not as much blogging as there used to be, like last year when I posted every day because of my lack of a life. Oh! Maybe my creativity got sucked out along with the endo! Maybe the endo was the secret of my powers… what have I done?!

Anyway…. We spent the last few weeks helping others fulfil their dreams, truly, I am the Jimmy Saville of the 21st Century, except with a lot more hair. A couple of weeks ago we flew to Germany to attend a kind of big weekend long party for Glenn’s parents, lots of drinking and an awful lot of sausage eating (of actual sausages, dipped in curry sauce, with chips, smothered in mayonnaise, and some vegetables, drowning in cheese sauce, it is a miracle that Germans live as long as the rest of us but it certainly explains Glenn’s eating habits) and even more beer drinking. Three days where I said goodbye to healthy arteries and hello to being hung over whenever it was day light.

We left Dusseldorf airport in a people carrier, six of us and luggage, six people not used to spending that much time together, about to embark on a 45 minute drive to the small town of Menden, or so we thought. We left the autobahn and took the road to Koln, someone in the back mentioned we might be going in the wrong direction, someone else told that someone to “SHUT UP!”, and so we drove for an hour and ended up in Menden, except it was the wrong Menden and so we drove an hour back to Dusseldorf, and then an hour towards the right Menden, through 5pm Friday evening traffic, making a 45 minute journey last three whole hours. Nice.

At the first party that evening someone claiming to be psychic pulled me to one side, gripped my hand tightly, looked deep into my eyes and said, “I can’t see children in your future, but I can see a lot of dogs”. So that was weird.

This is making it sound like the entire weekend was dreadful, it really wasn’t, we had a wonderful time and I got to see where Glenn spent some of his childhood, which was lovely. He has such fond memories of that place and now I do to.

But I’m never speaking to a psychic ever again, what in the world I was thinking I don’t know, the only coherent thoughts I can remember are “where’s the Jack FUCKING DOGS?! Daniels?”.