New Year Snapshot

I took R&B to Germany on New Years Eve, to stay with our friends who live in Gelsenkirchen. The journey went well apart from NO TEA in the Thalys train bar, although the Belgian barman was very pleasant and polite and quite made me want to emigrate from Paris to Brussels. Then R made several trips to the ‘cabinet’ (he claims the facilities were poor) announced he had diarrhoea and fell asleep over the arm of the seat. R never sleeps during the day unless he is very ill. OH NO LE GASTRO, this special French variant of a tummy bug, endemic throughout France for every high day and holiday, I have rarely made a foreign trip without one, notably last Christmas when Le Gastro just as we hit the traffic jam on the M25 caused by the ferry strike, but we won’t go into that.

Made quick calculation: friends have one toilet – between 7. Have missed last train back to Paris so can’t go home – friends do not want to catch Le Gastro. Mummy does not want to spend 3 days cleaning up sick from outside the toilet because someone else was in the toilet. Mummy does not want to catch Le Gastro and have it on the train home. Ditto B.

B listened carefully to my woeful calculations, took note of my dramatic despairing body poses, patiently witnessed the shouts and accusations about French viruses, endured the stream of swear words. Then he said:

‘He can’t have a gastro. He will not have one. Nobody will have one. I have said a prayer that nobody else catches it and he will get better as soon as possible’.

B was right.

Jenny had twinkled up the flat with everything possible kitch and lovely, at least 17 tea lights, and we had a fondue for supper.

The children, buoyant with youthful verve, had no problem waiting up for New Year, while we adults lay stiffly on the sofa trying to keep our eyelids from falling shut. Luckily the German New Year is very reviving, as it is the only time that sensible Germans roam the streets with fistfuls of fireworks, breaking every Health and Safety law in the land.

A few minutes before midnight a few premature bangers exploded, and on the dot of midnight there was a sudden rousing riot of noise and light; rockets punched the sky from every direction every church bell rang like the clappers, from big growly bells and mourning moaning bells to rickety dinging bells. The entire sky was filled with whoops and whizzes and dizzy dashes of light, near and far, far and wide. We scrambled from north to south balcony and back again, trying to take it all in. Below us in the street, shadowy figures with access to an unending supply of serious heavy explosives kept up a constant stream of action, rockets collided with tall buildings and set off in new directions, smouldering remains clattered to the pavement in droves, fountains ejaculated, and green and red balls were tossed to the four winds, all in utter abandon. It went on for an hour. Welcome, welcome, 2009!

I was fed and allowed to talk non-stop for 2 days, a definition of heaven. I particularly enjoyed the town centres free of cars, rustling with shoppers talking in low voices. I bought a board game where you push a candle round the forest trying to catch gnomes hiding in the shadows. The children enjoyed absolutely everything and never slept before midnight or after 8am.

We visited Cologne Cathedral on the way back, they have a new stained glass window made up from little squares of over 4,900 colours. Chris said it was the optician’s window. I loved it. The journey back was fantastic, for a ridiculously low sum we were able to upgrade to Extra Comfort Class where trilingual hosts and hostesses satisfied our every whim – principally a miniature can of fizzy drink every ten minutes and 2 perfectly proportioned meals with seconds and extra bread all free. We didn’t realise that the meals were included and had ingested a large lunch of bretzel and sandwhiches, but we ate the further 2 meals anyway, with seconds. The seats were wide with electronically controlled semi-reclining position and the ‘cabinet’ facilities were judged far superior by R.

I took R&B to Germany on New Years Eve, to stay with our friends who live in Gelsenkirchen. The journey went well apart from NO TEA in the Thalys train bar, although the Belgian barman was very pleasant and polite and quite made me want to emigrate from Paris to Brussels. Then R made several trips to the ‘cabinet’ (he claims the facilities were poor) announced he had diarrhoea and fell asleep over the arm of the seat. R never sleeps during the day unless he is very ill. OH NO LE GASTRO, this special French variant of a tummy bug, endemic throughout France for every high day and holiday, I have rarely made a foreign trip without one, notably last Christmas when Le Gastro just as we hit the traffic jam on the M25 caused by the ferry strike, but we won’t go into that.

Made quick calculation: friends have one toilet – between 7. Have missed last train back to Paris so can’t go home – friends do not want to catch Le Gastro. Mummy does not want to spend 3 days cleaning up sick from outside the toilet because someone else was in the toilet. Mummy does not want to catch Le Gastro and have it on the train home. Ditto B.

B listened carefully to my woeful calculations, took note of my dramatic despairing body poses, patiently witnessed the shouts and accusations about French viruses, endured the stream of swear words. Then he said:

‘He can’t have a gastro. He will not have one. Nobody will have one. I have said a prayer that nobody else catches it and he will get better as soon as possible’.

B was right.

Jenny had twinkled up the flat with everything possible kitch and lovely, at least 17 tea lights, and we had a fondue for supper.

The children, buoyant with youthful verve, had no problem waiting up for New Year, while we adults lay stiffly on the sofa trying to keep our eyelids from falling shut. Luckily the German New Year is very reviving, as it is the only time that sensible Germans roam the streets with fistfuls of fireworks, breaking every Health and Safety law in the land.

A few minutes before midnight a few premature bangers exploded, and on the dot of midnight there was a sudden rousing riot of noise and light; rockets punched the sky from every direction every church bell rang like the clappers, from big growly bells and mourning moaning bells to rickety dinging bells. The entire sky was filled with whoops and whizzes and dizzy dashes of light, near and far, far and wide. We scrambled from north to south balcony and back again, trying to take it all in. Below us in the street, shadowy figures with access to an unending supply of serious heavy explosives kept up a constant stream of action, rockets collided with tall buildings and set off in new directions, smouldering remains clattered to the pavement in droves, fountains ejaculated, and green and red balls were tossed to the four winds, all in utter abandon. It went on for an hour. Welcome, welcome, 2009!

I was fed and allowed to talk non-stop for 2 days, a definition of heaven. I particularly enjoyed the town centres free of cars, rustling with shoppers talking in low voices. I bought a board game where you push a candle round the forest trying to catch gnomes hiding in the shadows. The children enjoyed absolutely everything and never slept before midnight or after 8am.

We visited Cologne Cathedral on the way back, they have a new stained glass window made up from over 11,000 little squares (see Goethe Institute for the best article on this window http://www.goethe.de/kue/arc/dos/dos/bug/en2577503.htm

Chris said it was the optician’s window. I loved it.

The journey back was fantastic, for a ridiculously low sum we were able to upgrade to Extra Comfort Class where trilingual hosts and hostesses satisfied our every whim – principally a miniature can of fizzy drink every ten minutes and 2 perfectly proportioned meals with seconds and extra bread all free. We didn’t realise that the meals were included and had ingested a large lunch of bretzel and sandwhiches, but we ate the further 2 meals anyway, with seconds. The seats were wide with electronically controlled semi-reclining position and the ‘cabinet’ facilities were judged by R as far superior to those of ordinary class.