Maybe it’s the dark Italian coffee my flatmate has just brought me, or maybe it’s the remnants of last night’s snow outside my window, dusting the streets and trees and cars under clear blue skies. Maybe it’s the red wine hangover ebbing away, or maybe it’s the afterglow of an evening spent in the best company. Continue reading
berlin
The Berlin Diaries – The Mystical Pool of Neukölln
*It’s a dark, blustery evening. You lie in bed, but you cannot sleep. The only thing that will do, you decide, is a bedtime story from your favourite grandfather. You creep downstairs, your teddy grasped tight in your little palm. You enter my office timidly, and find me an old man, reclined in a rich leather armchair by a roaring fire, spectacles perched on the end of my nose. I am quietly perusing a large, ornate copy of Charles Darwin’s Origin of Species. I glance up with a start as you close the door behind you.*
Oh, hello my sweet grandchild! Didn’t hear you come in. It’s that time already, is it? Time for another story, ey? Well, you scamp, come hither and rest your arse upon my knee, and I will thrill you with tales of my youth in Berlin. Today’s story is set way back in 2017, on the 2nd of January. Continue reading
The Berlin Diaries – New Year’s Eve
After three weeks at home in Leeds for the Christmas holidays, I flew back to Berlin on the 31st of December at 4.45pm. My lovely grandad gave me a lift to the airport, and thanks to 17 years in the military his punctuality is such that it goes way past being sensible and gets rather ridiculous. Four hours early, then, I checked in and sat drinking Guinness and reading until my flight – the last flight out of the airport that day, as everyone who wasn’t a moron had already got their flights out of the way, not saved them for last thing on New Year’s Eve.
An Assortment of Photographs Representative of My Time and Travels in That Most Magnificent of Cities, Berlin
Hello you.
I know, I know, it’s a sad time here at World Hangover. ‘Tis true, The Berlin Diaries are, for now, over. Dry your tears, sweet reader, and keep your chin up, for there remain many bright days ahead. In the mean time, I have decided I will be writing regular articles on world famous adventurers whom I admire, which should hopefully be of interest to all three people who read this blog (Hi Mum!), but to be honest I just mostly want to write anything because I love writing. Continue reading
The Berlin Diaries – Homecoming
I’m in a wonderful mood this morning. I fly home to England tomorrow for the Christmas holidays. I’m finally returning home, and I never expected I’d be doing it on my own terms. I didn’t fail, I didn’t crash and burn like so many others I’ve met along the way here; the French guys I met back at the hostel who spunked all their money in one month; the homesick kids who come in their droves and fly back after a couple of weeks when they miss sleep and sense; the poor buggers who are overwhelmed and turfed out by the ever unspooling red tape. Moving to Berlin is an upstream salmon odyssey, battling against the current with hungry bears pawing the shallows. It’s a mad dash for safety under sniper fire, friends being picked off seemingly at random. You’re only ever one U Bahn fine or job interview rejection away from complete failure and a disgraced Ryanair home. But despite everything, somehow, I made it, and it feels so good. Continue reading
The Berlin Diaries – Gonzo
At their request, the names of the people in this story have been changed. Fair do’s, really. I mean, you can definitely figure out who is who if you read even one other article from my time in Berlin, but whatever. Actually, I think I’ll change my name too, for this one. So, yeah, the guy in this story isn’t me. It’s, er, Raoul. Continue reading
The Berlin Diaries – Liquidrom and The Spring Loaded Dildos
Now that is a good title. Sounds like a band name, right?!
Okay, play this while you read the opening paragraph for ambiance:
Hello! And welcome to another funky edition of…
The Berlin Diaries – Kev, The Furious Poet
Editor’s Note:
Dear Reader,
It seems our sole writer and contributor, Dan, wrote the first four paragraphs of this diary entry after a very long day, and was a little frustrated at the time. If you wish to skip straight to the main narrative, which is considerably more jolly, scroll down past the opening 373 words of pure bile. Don’t feel bad. He’ll never know.
***** Continue reading
The Berlin Diaries – Thanksgiving
I’m English, which means I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving and don’t really know what it’s about. Hang on. Let’s educate ourselves. Right, you wait here, and I’m going to trek to the mystical land of Wikipedia in search of answers. If I’m not back in three paragraphs, assume I’ve failed my quest, give me an honorary funeral (Viking style, please), and move on with your life. Promise me, if I fail, you will try to learn to love again. Promise me you will find another blog filled with stupid drunken travelling stories. You promise? Okay. Here goes.
The Berlin Diaries – NIGHTTIME ACTIVITY REPORT
Good day everyone, today’s diary entry comes in the form of a militarised report, for absolutely no reason at all other than I thought it would be a bit different, and this is my site and my word is LAW.