Home of the muffin-top

I would say easyJet is a misnomer, given that we were delayed by six hours last Friday.  But how typical of me to start with a negative point.  Our weekend in sunny England was a delight.  Words cannot express how beautiful my sister looked, with a stunning back-up team of coral bridesmaids (plus a cream flower-girl), handsome groomsmen and Titus as Bavarian Boy.  The new husband scrubbed up well too. I won't gush further.  Suffice to say, watching two people making their wedding vows, who genuinely love each other and are so excited about their future together, would melt the heartstrings of the Tin Man.  That is, if he ever had any (wasn't that the original problem?  I forget).  And now they're off on their honeymoon, and let's hope the new ash cloud won't throw a spanner in the works.

Back in Bovinia it feels like mid-summer.  The NNs are there again, having disappeared off for a few days in quite a mysterious manner.  I admit that I enjoyed our garden more in their absence.  This morning, Herr NN was re-established in his customary place on the terrace, where he spends the morning overseeing activities in the street, particularly mine, it seems. In our absence a crowd of snails invaded our vegetable patch, so I'm going to have to resort to pellets.  I mean those you strew, not shoot.  Although shooting a snail can't be that difficult, actually.

There's always a slight feeling of anti-climax after a long-planned event, such as this wedding.  Just as well, then, that I got a letter from the Arbeitsamt this morning, 'inviting' me to an obligatory appointment in a couple of weeks.  Now I can look forward to that, plan my outfit, etc, etc.  It's a new man this time, I can see from the letter.  Here's hoping he will have a sense of humour and not be quite so long-winded.

I do miss England, but I've been away so long now that I can't help noticing things about it that I may not have done as a permanent resident.  For instance, it does not surprise me that the term 'muffin top' was coined there.  Nowhere else on my travels do I see so many examples of this sad development in female fashion and body size.  It is a phenomenon that has emerged over the last ten years or so, I think - feel free to correct me. Sadly I have to say that a dirndl, with gathered waist and billowing apron, is more flattering than too-tight hipster jeans.

On that note, I'll leave you.  My broccoli is boiling over.