With much regret I am posting this, my last blog as Reluctant Housewife. You must have noticed that my entries have been getting ever less frequent... indeed I feel that the subject matter, i.e. new in Bavaria, has been exhausted and on top of that, I will shortly be starting the wonderful six-month training course that will launch me back into the world of employment.
I've thought long and hard about this, as I enjoy writing so much, but the need to prioritise has forced my hand.
I may come back one day in another form - who knows?
Hopefully, you have been inspired to visit Bovinia one day and see it all for yourself.
Thanks for reading x
Wednesday 15 June 2011
Friday 10 June 2011
I hate mornings
Dank, mountain mist swirling round the house. Mad cat mewing at patio door to be let in, but he's just crunched up a mouse and I could hear it, even with the window closed. Ugh. Expecting visitors for the weekend. They have chosen, most anti-socially, to arrive at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. It would have been earlier, but CG managed to dissuade them. However, as they are the kind of keen German people who love bread and getting up at the crack of dawn to squeeze organic apple juice, and all other kinds of fun activities, I wouldn't be at all surprised if they came at seven, pretending to be apologetic but wielding freshly-baked rolls and looking for the coffee machine. Woe betide them if they do, however.
I remember several years back, before Titus was born. Hedda was but a little snip of a thing. We drove, overnight, from northern Germany all the way to the middle of France to visit my father and his wife in their holiday residence. Who on earth had the idea to do this I'll never know, but we somehow, misguidedly, thought Hedda would sleep all night in the car, and we would thus have a peaceful journey. As it was, she slept the first thirty minutes, then stayed resolutely awake until we staggered (as much as a car can stagger) up to the iron gateway and rang my father's doorbell at 7.40 a.m. (Gaia, by the way, had slept the whole night.) It was a grey, misty morning and it took some time for my pa to arrive at the gate with his big rusty key chain, dressing gown flapping in the breeze. He was not happy. I think we'd said we would arrive later, but we just couldn't hold out any more. France is not full of welcoming bakeries serving hot pastries and steaming coffee from the crack of dawn. A scratchy breakfast on the terrace ensued, rain dripping off the wisteria into our croissants. I wished we'd stayed at home. It took a whole day for Pa to recover from the injustice of being cheated out of his lie-in.
Sad to say, I am exactly the same. In Germany, it's called being a Morgenmuffel. I only get out of bed when I have to, or when I choose to. You read in books of people who spring up in the morning, full of vim and vigour and anticipation for the day ahead. Not me. I am still ashamed to this day about one birthday of mine. Perhaps Gaia was five or six years old. Hedda in tow, she burst into my bedroom extremely early and yelled happy birthday at the top of her voice. I buried my head under the covers and said go away, quite gruffly if I remember correctly. I wouldn't come out until they'd gone. This event has been thrown back in my face many times since then. I'll add it to all the other 'why my mother's not perfect' examples that my children are totting up.
So all in all, you can see that it would benefit our visitors to arrive at the arranged time.
I remember several years back, before Titus was born. Hedda was but a little snip of a thing. We drove, overnight, from northern Germany all the way to the middle of France to visit my father and his wife in their holiday residence. Who on earth had the idea to do this I'll never know, but we somehow, misguidedly, thought Hedda would sleep all night in the car, and we would thus have a peaceful journey. As it was, she slept the first thirty minutes, then stayed resolutely awake until we staggered (as much as a car can stagger) up to the iron gateway and rang my father's doorbell at 7.40 a.m. (Gaia, by the way, had slept the whole night.) It was a grey, misty morning and it took some time for my pa to arrive at the gate with his big rusty key chain, dressing gown flapping in the breeze. He was not happy. I think we'd said we would arrive later, but we just couldn't hold out any more. France is not full of welcoming bakeries serving hot pastries and steaming coffee from the crack of dawn. A scratchy breakfast on the terrace ensued, rain dripping off the wisteria into our croissants. I wished we'd stayed at home. It took a whole day for Pa to recover from the injustice of being cheated out of his lie-in.
Sad to say, I am exactly the same. In Germany, it's called being a Morgenmuffel. I only get out of bed when I have to, or when I choose to. You read in books of people who spring up in the morning, full of vim and vigour and anticipation for the day ahead. Not me. I am still ashamed to this day about one birthday of mine. Perhaps Gaia was five or six years old. Hedda in tow, she burst into my bedroom extremely early and yelled happy birthday at the top of her voice. I buried my head under the covers and said go away, quite gruffly if I remember correctly. I wouldn't come out until they'd gone. This event has been thrown back in my face many times since then. I'll add it to all the other 'why my mother's not perfect' examples that my children are totting up.
So all in all, you can see that it would benefit our visitors to arrive at the arranged time.
Tuesday 7 June 2011
An end in sight
An amazing, unique experience today. Went to my obligatory appointment at the Arbeitsamt (job centre), with many reservations, as up till now the meetings have been a trial to say the least. This time, though, I was allocated to a different man; still with terrible dress sense - I think that is part and parcel of working somewhere like that - but kind, with nice manners and a comprehensible accent. He admitted he was flummoxed as to why I hadn't found a job yet. I was forced to agree. I mean look at you, he said. I looked. Could only see the bruise on my sternum. (Should have worn a scarf.) You're young, you're clever, you're.... he faltered and the pregnant pause that followed told me all I needed to know. Now I am the last person to exploit my feminine wiles to get what I want out of somebody. In fact, I didn't even know I had any left. But a sweet smile was all it took to obtain the maximum benefits he had to offer me as an almost-long-term-unemployed-person. Don't get me wrong - all things are relative, and maximum benefits in this case actually mean a six-month training course and a gift voucher for free recruitment agency help. Yippee! At last, a valid excuse to be out of the house every day and not have time to do the cleaning. And I might get a proper German qualification at the end of it, or even a job. Oh thank you, thank you, I said. I know you don't do this for all your clients. No, he said. Only the really needy ones. Cheers, Mr Job Centre Man. I'll try not to take that the wrong way.
His little eyes twinkled as he handed me the all-important documents and showed me out of his drab, sparsely furnished office. As always when I leave that place, my heart lightened instantly and I hopped, skipped and jumped down the stairs, straight into H&M to check out the latest wares. If I'm going to be on a training course, I have to develop the right look. No more of this village dowdiness.
PS: CG, if you're reading this, I didn't buy a single item. Not even a frippery like a hair clip. Surprised? I was!
His little eyes twinkled as he handed me the all-important documents and showed me out of his drab, sparsely furnished office. As always when I leave that place, my heart lightened instantly and I hopped, skipped and jumped down the stairs, straight into H&M to check out the latest wares. If I'm going to be on a training course, I have to develop the right look. No more of this village dowdiness.
PS: CG, if you're reading this, I didn't buy a single item. Not even a frippery like a hair clip. Surprised? I was!
Monday 6 June 2011
Don't cancel your trip yet
Poor Bienenbüttel. Where?? I hear you ask. Bienenbüttel is a rural town, some 40 miles south of Hamburg. And we used to live there. I never thought I would read about it in a British newspaper, but today I did. Sadly, the reason for this sudden notoriety is the bad beansprout farmer who's currently copping the blame for the E.coli outbreak. If you want to read more, here's a link:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/8558899/German-farmer-denies-E.coli-link-to-farms-bean-sprouts.html
I know that if this epidemic develops I will be forced to eat my words - as long as I wash them first. I don't wish to disregard the fact that people have died; to date, 21 Germans and 1 Swede. But it is amusing to read the dire warnings in the press to travellers to Germany - avoid salad at all costs. (This shouldn't be too difficult, as in my experience, visitors to Germany aren't interested in sampling the salad. And most vegetables are cooked to a pulp, so no danger there.) No, it is the fear-mongering, the almost German paranoia being generated by normally non-sensationalist newspapers that I find interesting. And even worse, the worryingly anti-German comments to the articles; here's a good one:
Surely instead of 'visitors to Germany should avoid salads', it should be 'salad eaters should avoid Germany'?
Or what about this:
Travellers to Germany should avoid Germany....................and the EU as a whole. And what a hole.
Nice!
Oh, and in case you were wondering about the serene giraffe surveying the savannah, she trapped her finger in the fridge door this morning. Great start, giraffe-lady.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/8558899/German-farmer-denies-E.coli-link-to-farms-bean-sprouts.html
I know that if this epidemic develops I will be forced to eat my words - as long as I wash them first. I don't wish to disregard the fact that people have died; to date, 21 Germans and 1 Swede. But it is amusing to read the dire warnings in the press to travellers to Germany - avoid salad at all costs. (This shouldn't be too difficult, as in my experience, visitors to Germany aren't interested in sampling the salad. And most vegetables are cooked to a pulp, so no danger there.) No, it is the fear-mongering, the almost German paranoia being generated by normally non-sensationalist newspapers that I find interesting. And even worse, the worryingly anti-German comments to the articles; here's a good one:
Surely instead of 'visitors to Germany should avoid salads', it should be 'salad eaters should avoid Germany'?
Or what about this:
Travellers to Germany should avoid Germany....................and the EU as a whole. And what a hole.
Nice!
Oh, and in case you were wondering about the serene giraffe surveying the savannah, she trapped her finger in the fridge door this morning. Great start, giraffe-lady.
Sunday 5 June 2011
Accidents happen
I dragged myself to the appointed meeting place yesterday morning, only to find that the crusty running club had loped off without me. I didn't wait around or bother feeling affronted (I was warned to be punctual) - I hopped back in the car and drove home. Before you could say 'sweatband' I had changed into some shorts and headed out for my own run, 15 km of pure torture in the burning sun. After a hearty brunch cooked by my husband, I was still wondering why I do this long-distance running lark. The only bit I enjoy is looking at my sports watch afterwards and seeing how many calories I've burned. And then I go and shovel them all back in again.
All in all, it's been a very accident-prone weekend. I have sustained several minor injuries. Not wishing to bore you with the details, let me share the best example: narrowly avoiding impaling myself on a bamboo cane in the greenhouse. I leaned down to my tomato plant to pull out a few weeds, forgetting in my haste to pluck the offenders that plant was only staying up with help of sharp stick. Now have nice bruise on sternum - never had one of those before. I mean the bruise. I am going to have to be careful from now on. I have always been clumsy, but seem to be reaching new heights recently.
As we are taught to deal with other afflictions, I shall take things a day at a time. Tomorrow, I will move slowly and deliberately. I will make no sudden movements. My body language will be modelled on a giraffe surveying the savannah. Apart from the bit where they stretch their neck out for the highest-growing leaves.
All in all, it's been a very accident-prone weekend. I have sustained several minor injuries. Not wishing to bore you with the details, let me share the best example: narrowly avoiding impaling myself on a bamboo cane in the greenhouse. I leaned down to my tomato plant to pull out a few weeds, forgetting in my haste to pluck the offenders that plant was only staying up with help of sharp stick. Now have nice bruise on sternum - never had one of those before. I mean the bruise. I am going to have to be careful from now on. I have always been clumsy, but seem to be reaching new heights recently.
As we are taught to deal with other afflictions, I shall take things a day at a time. Tomorrow, I will move slowly and deliberately. I will make no sudden movements. My body language will be modelled on a giraffe surveying the savannah. Apart from the bit where they stretch their neck out for the highest-growing leaves.
Friday 3 June 2011
For Hedda
It's been too long, it really has. A(nother) thunderstorm is blustering its way over the Alps towards Bovinia. We seem to get one a day at the moment. It keeps things interesting, though. And is infinitely preferable to perpetual rain.
But enough about the weather. (I told you I was beginning to talk about it too much.) Hedda and I just got back from an inline skating trip round the local lake (the site of last week's limnetic frolic, for those who are interested). As you may be realising about life here, it appears mundane but actually there's always something going on. We rounded a corner, shakily over the gravel, and came across a large band of drummers. They were all smoking and larking around prior to starting their practice - I have no idea what for, but how considerate of them to take themselves off to the riverside where they won't disturb people unnecessarily. The fact that I can hear from them from here underscores this point. I'm pretty sure we'll see them soon at some village fest, dressed up to the nines in their Lederhosen.
I promised Hedda I would mention her a lot in this blog. I am well aware that I talk about Titus - he is an endless source of amusing material, without even meaning to be most of the time. Hedda is an understated delight and the reason I don't write much about her is that she is much better behaved than her brother and far less cheeky. (She wasn't the one who softly intoned the words 'poo stinks' over and over again during lunch today. ) She went on a boat trip this morning with her class. Apparently the highlight was a naked lady bathing - I wonder if she was expecting a boatful of schoolchildren to round the corner as she took the waters. Bet she didn't care - these naked swimmers are all the same. Hides like rhinos or they've given up worrying. I'd be thinking about the leeches, but we all know I'm not only a prude, but paranoid about water creatures of any kind.
Hedda likes reading my blog and has reminded me several times this week that I haven't written since Monday. I was busy applying for a job - needless to say, I didn't get it. And next Monday, I am venturing into the world of online English teaching. Apparently, there's a growing need for English teachers who are prepared to give lessons on Skype, and I have found a website that caters to Japanese people. Someone - as yet unknown - has signed up for a trial lesson with me at 8.30 a.m. They get 15 minutes free, while they decide whether I am interesting and intelligible enough. Have no fear - I shall be doing exactly the same about them! If they like me, they sign up for paying lessons, which will give me even more excuse to ignore the housework.
Tomorrow morning I'm off to do another sadistic run with the crusty running club I've found. It nearly finished me last week. They are all at least fifteen years older than me, but far, far fitter. Needs must - only four months till the marathon...
But enough about the weather. (I told you I was beginning to talk about it too much.) Hedda and I just got back from an inline skating trip round the local lake (the site of last week's limnetic frolic, for those who are interested). As you may be realising about life here, it appears mundane but actually there's always something going on. We rounded a corner, shakily over the gravel, and came across a large band of drummers. They were all smoking and larking around prior to starting their practice - I have no idea what for, but how considerate of them to take themselves off to the riverside where they won't disturb people unnecessarily. The fact that I can hear from them from here underscores this point. I'm pretty sure we'll see them soon at some village fest, dressed up to the nines in their Lederhosen.
I promised Hedda I would mention her a lot in this blog. I am well aware that I talk about Titus - he is an endless source of amusing material, without even meaning to be most of the time. Hedda is an understated delight and the reason I don't write much about her is that she is much better behaved than her brother and far less cheeky. (She wasn't the one who softly intoned the words 'poo stinks' over and over again during lunch today. ) She went on a boat trip this morning with her class. Apparently the highlight was a naked lady bathing - I wonder if she was expecting a boatful of schoolchildren to round the corner as she took the waters. Bet she didn't care - these naked swimmers are all the same. Hides like rhinos or they've given up worrying. I'd be thinking about the leeches, but we all know I'm not only a prude, but paranoid about water creatures of any kind.
Hedda likes reading my blog and has reminded me several times this week that I haven't written since Monday. I was busy applying for a job - needless to say, I didn't get it. And next Monday, I am venturing into the world of online English teaching. Apparently, there's a growing need for English teachers who are prepared to give lessons on Skype, and I have found a website that caters to Japanese people. Someone - as yet unknown - has signed up for a trial lesson with me at 8.30 a.m. They get 15 minutes free, while they decide whether I am interesting and intelligible enough. Have no fear - I shall be doing exactly the same about them! If they like me, they sign up for paying lessons, which will give me even more excuse to ignore the housework.
Tomorrow morning I'm off to do another sadistic run with the crusty running club I've found. It nearly finished me last week. They are all at least fifteen years older than me, but far, far fitter. Needs must - only four months till the marathon...
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