Hey hey I had the most brilliant birthday and I’ve got to tell you about it while it’s fresh now and before a single blip of it is lost in the dank recesses of my memory because it was all so wonderful and I don’t wanna forget any of it. No time for mincing words, come on come on come on, let’s GO! Continue reading
*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
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.
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…
A week ago today I went to the zoo with my fellow fresh Berliner Victoria. Dave, the stoned Ron to our skint Harry and Hermione, was supposed to join us at 1pm. However, he didn’t show, mostly for financial reasons. It is rather hard to make plans with Dave, as his phone barely works and when it does he rarely troubles to answer it. This is the case with pretty much everyone in this city, except me, Mr Everkeen, Mr Instanttextback. I get bored easily, okay?
Okay, okay. ‘Death or Glory’ is a bit self important, as far as titles go. It’s just a cool sounding phrase, alright? I’m sorry. An alternate title could be ‘Owt or Nowt’, which is a joke you either will or will not get, depending on whether you are from Northern England.
Surely not. Surely not. It’s too soon to say but… my god, it looks as though everything might actually… work out okay?! Continue reading
Last Friday, Michelle invited me along to a house party, near Schlesisches Tor. I met Victoria first for a couple of beers, sitting in her cavernous flat overlooking the river Spree. It’s a stunning place. The bedrooms alone are bigger than entire flats back home. It’s the kind of place that would cost you a grand a week in London, but here Victoria and her flatmate Klara pay around €300 a month each. I swear, you could work part time here and enjoy a decent quality of life. Continue reading
The sun rose on Monday morning, and gentle rays of sunlight drifted in through the curtains. The old schoolteacher who lives upstairs was practising the piano again, and the notes floated down to me like snowflakes. I lay sprawled in bed fully clothed, hanging, desperately dehydrated and unable to move, but I was happy. The weekend had been a heavy one. Mike Skinner, Kater Blau, Slaves, all brilliant. There was but one last gig to attend. Continue reading
It’s been a while. How the devil are you?
I’ve not written any new diary entries for a week or so, because I’ve been spending too long writing while steadily running out of money and neglecting to look for work. Don’t fret, though. I’ve been up to a lot, and I have some cracking stories for you. Continue reading
Holy FUCK I’ve been here a month. Continue reading