356 days

This week is all about getting back into a routine so boring to make work appear a welcome distraction. It's about treading the treadmill, not seeking excitement. My work ranges from quite interesting, when I research the "Pink Pound" (whatever that may be) or "LOHAS" lifestyles, to the downright tedious, as when I have to re-write whole chunks of last year's report on Consumer Electronics, because maybe it was too general, not market-focused enough, not snappy enough advice for the "client" on how to best get your money. But I don't hate it, at least I can work at home, I can jump on my bike when I have had enough, I can meet someone for lunch, do some balcony gardening, or just hoover the bedroom. I can cook an amazingly creative dinner, my upstairs neighbour may bring some spring rolls, or there might be another surprisingly stunning sunset outside my window to take a picture of. I am no-ones slave.

After a long hard Saturday of driving around Ammersee, a few walks, lunches, coffees, more walks, basking in sunshine, taking pictures...we went back to B.'s place and she made this pizza.

On Sunday, the sun was warm, and the woods were full of Leberblümchen (Hepatica, Germany's consolation for not having bluebells) and Anemones. My Mother walking Clocks went forward and spring started. (I consciously avoid saying "has sprung"). After a week of sightseeing, visiting galleries (Rothko in Kunsthalle, Daniel Bergmann and Jochen Klein in Pinakothek der Moderne), mountains, rivers and lakes with visiting friend D. from London, today it's back to work with a vengeance. Something that made me laugh in the Guardian D. brought. Many British bobbies are moving to Canada, admitting that their jobs in Calgary arent necessarily as exciting as the one back home, but children "always wave to me. In the UK, kids might wave, but not using all of their fingers". And so to work... An unknown beautiful wildflower Wonderful painting by Jochen Klein, the partner of Wolfgang Tilmans who died tragically young An installation in Pinakothek dM by Daniel Bergmann (Germa...

I am suffering from a general Web2 publication fatigue, what's the point etc. and will be having an extended break. going U ndergroud for a while.

ZWEI ODER DREI DINGE, die es zu „meiner Zeit“ noch nicht gab. Mobiltelefone Telefone waren für Kinder immer schon dazu da, Zeit zu vergeuden. Noch heute werden hochtechnologische Handy-Wunder oft dazu benutzt, eine fremde Nummer anzurufen und dann irgendeinen Scheiß zu erzählen. Heute geht es mit Lautsprecher, damit alle was davon haben. Eine Videofunktion auf dem Handy ist demnach „asking for trouble“ – siehe happy slapping etc. Rap und Hip-Hop Allerdings gab es schon damals Sänger wie Freddie Quinn, Vorläufer des Rap vielleicht, die so eine Art monotonen Sprechgesang in ihre Stücke einfließen ließen. Computerspiele Früher gab es "Mensch ärgere dich nicht“ und Monopoly, das spielte man zusammen, oder es wurde draußen Ochs am Berg oder Fangstl gespielt. Das ist vorbei. Wir Menschen über 50 schütteln nur noch die Köpfe über die autistischen Kriegsspiele der Generation Xbox. Ohne Playstation oder Wii für die jüngeren Jahrgänge geht nichts mehr. Mit zunehmendem Alter wird das Köpf...

Family: all those persons descended from a common ancestor; group of living things with common characteristics and a common source: die Manns, the Simpsons, die Simons ("Heimat"), die Kreitmeiers, nicht umsonst spricht man von "Familienbande"... An old English saying:Familiarity breeds contempt. "Family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape. Far from being the basis of the good society, the family, with its narrow privacy and its tawdry secrets, is the source of all our discontents."

Edith Sitwell is one of the funniest and acerbic writers I know. Her comment on AE Housman's theme of death and cricket in "A Shropshire Lad", goes Out I marched with bat and pad See the son of grief at cricket Trying to be glad.. "..."I do not think that Professor Housman has explained to us clearly enough how it is that cricket has saved men from dying. If he means us to understand that cricket, and cricket alone, has prevented men from committing suicide, then their continuation on this earth seems hardly worth while." for my friend, G.

A truly dull day, perfect for staying at home. It is a wonderful luxury to just laze around and take pictures of chocolate easter eggs, bake an apple crumble and biscuits with the leftover dough, and wait for dinner to be on the table. I just opened my last bottle of Südtirol wine, a Pinot Noir 2004 from Alois Lageder. Tastes good, never mind the nose and the finish. The only drop of acid in this delicious cup is my work, always lurking in the background. But at least I have got some! And this is what's playing: Dirty Three, Cinder (link top right of page). Slouching on the sofa I started watching - not really wanting to - Pasolini's "Gospel according to Matthew". The gospel usually just makes me think of the "Life of Brian", being a cynic and a non-believer. I find comments like "What a way to spend Easter" at the sight of a crucifix hilarious. So I didn't expect to be moved to tears by this film, the black and white slow dignity of it, ...

Ein Abend, an dem alles so leicht daneben war. Erst der Film von Doris Dörrie, "Kirschblüten - Hanami", der ganz vielversprechend und leise anfing und mich wirklich stark berührte. Die tiefe, wenn auch erstarrte Liebe des Ehepaares, die Kinder so kalt und abwehrend - ich dachte an Blanche Dubois in "A streetcar named desire": I have always relied on the kindness of strangers.. Leider verlief er sich dann in einem etwas pathetischen Japantourismus und wurde zu einer Art Mischung aus "Lost in Translation" mit einem Schuss "Winterreise". Man vermutet dass Elmar Wepper dachte - was der Bierbichler da macht, das kann ich auch - alternder Mann, verloren und verwirrt im Ausland, mit einem unschuldigen Mädchen als einer Art Schutzengel...na i woass ned.. Jedenfalls war es das Geld wert, Hannelore Elsner bayrisch reden zu hören. Anschließend im "Zerwirk" makrobiotisch gegessen - eine Erfahrung, die ich niemandem empfehlen möchte. Ein makrobio R...

I never thought it would be so labour intensive to colour Easter eggs. It took me the best part of two hours to colour about eight eggs. Two broke and I had to eat them - probably resulting in constipation. My hands are stained blue and the eggs are barely coloured. It cost €3.50 for two tiny packets of working-not-very-well dye. Next year, I shall go to my butcher's round the corner and buy them ready dyed, en masse. Ah, the charm of the home-made, how quickly it fades...