Vienna for Dummies

It is a language composed in bedlam

2012-01-28T00:42:00.000+01:00

Cate is sort of on the mend but is still at home and of course this is an added strain on my home duties as it requires constant attention to her needs for water and lemon juice and coffee and such.

Last night she spent from 7:00 PM until 11:00 PM on a telephone call and I simply would not have thought this would have been possible – but clearly it is because she did it – barking like a seal every now and then - but muting the call when she did so as to not alarm the other participants.

I have just finished my second week with Frau Knickerbocker and I must say that up until a week or so ago I thought that separable verbs were the worst things the Germans had ever invented – but no – there are in fact more ghastly things.

Each – yes EACH German is Nominativ, Akkusative or Dativ and (depending on what they are) this will determine how you form the rest of the sentence you are about to construct.

Did I mention that you also have to know what the gender of the noun is? EVERY noun.

There are of course many other rules – too numerous to mention. Some so arcane and so baroque that they would make Machiavelli swoon.

It is astonishing to me that Germans can communicate at all.

I am eternally flabbergasted that Germans do not meet each other in the street and emit guttural grunts while flapping their arms uselessly in the air - attempting to convey the meaning of their words.

It is a language composed in bedlam by a committee of loons.

Sissi was disappointed with the snowfall

2012-01-26T15:31:00.000+01:00

Cate has been ill in bed for the last three days so I have been playing nurse. This is the consequences of not getting an annual Flu shot which we all should do in Vienna - and which I did.

Cate says it was not her fault because she travels so much – to which I say – Foofle!

She should get this at her work and she was not there when it took place but she can always go along to see Dr Mordor with me and I will make sure she does that next year because the last three days have not been a happy time for either of us.

I have done the best I can providing fresh orange juice and hot lemon juice and using a Bobcat to clean out the used tissues but it has not been a happy time.

She is however on the mend and is now wading through the 6 million emails that arrived during her time of incapacity.

You can tell when Cate is really unwell – she is too feeble to use her BlackBerry.

However – on the bright side – as she has been running a ferocious fever she has been generating enormous heat so the cats have been able to warm up nicely by lying on top of her - and she has been too weak to shrug them off.

I have shown a photo of the drizzly amount of snow we got last week. Sissi was most disappointed with the paucity of the fall.

I should mention that last week Merisi went to Vorarlberg and stayed near Damuls which calls itself the 'snowiest village on earth'.

In this area they measure their snowfalls in metres. This is where Cate and I should be and we may go there this year instead of Schladming which is our usual spot at the end of summer.

After two hours of German my brain goes mushy

2012-01-24T13:09:00.002+01:00

I would like to tell you that I have not blogged because I have spent every spare moment studying German - but of course this is not the case.

After two hours of German my brain goes a bit mushy and I have to repair to the TV to watch something less taxing - like cricket or golf or ski jumping – and in the latter case I am pleased to report that the Austrians are world champions.

But – and I have complained about this before – I am astonished by the UK advertisers fascination with animals. Almost every second advertisement has a person communicating in some way with an imaginary animal or creature.

And they interact with them quite normally. They discuss insurance and mobile phones. Now I always watch these with the sound muted so maybe they lose something - but to me they seem surreal.

They latest one has a man and a woman sitting at a counter discussing a mobile phone or something and there is the Yoda character from Star Wars who dives in and (I think) tells them about the best plan.

I mean – what would he know about mobile phones – wasn’t he suppose to be telepathic. I mean he can raise himself off his arse through his own thought processes – who would he call?

And the endless fascination with washing powders.

Oh Mummy something horrible happened at school today – Snotty Potter’s mummy washed his shirt with New Omo and he dazzled the shit out of all of us – it was so humiliating.

OMG! I knew this would happen if I kept washing with Grey Sludge – quick I will run to Tesco’s for New Omo while you get all your shirts out. No more humiliation for you young man!

Not to mention the never-ending morbid fascination they have for toilet bowls. I will spare you the details on that one.

But the people who drive me crazy are the ones who won’t stop still while they talk to you (not that I have any idea what they are saying because I am not listening) but you would think that they had been given plenty of notice that they have to do this commercial so would just stop still long enough to do it.

But no – the camera has to chase them down supermarket aisles and around counters and through turnstiles and out into car parks.

Or else they start walking toward the camera and won’t stop and the poor camera man has to backtrack through the supermarket or bank dodging people and prams and trolleys while they bang on about the wallop that they are selling which is no good to me even if I wanted it because it is in a different country.

I would fix them. I would say – take a break for coffee – and then I would glue their shoes to the floor.

See how far you can walk now!

We have had some snow after a fashion in Vienna but it has been a bit spasmodic and sludgy. I have now despondently written winter off and am preparing myself for spring.

Still – there is nothing wrong with spring. It’s an excellent time to learn German – and advertise washing powder and toilet cleaner.

Just you wait and see

2012-01-19T17:09:00.002+01:00

I have been a bit busy lately because I have started German lessons again (yes again) and I have been working hard.

I have decided that I am not happy with my combination of fractured German, sign language and charades so am going to make a mighty effort to get through the barrier of this monstrously difficult language.

I exhausted my previous teachers. One went to Brazil and another left to have a baby. My new teacher - Frau Knickerbocker - drew the short straw for this assignment and has brought cotton wool to put in her ears when I speak – so as to dull the noise.

She also has a club in case I attempt to work on separable verbs as this would be too much for a German speaker to stomach.

Frau Knickerbocker is an excellent teacher and if anyone can get me there – she can. I am having three lessons each week for the first few months of this latest bout of manic activity.

She is giving me lots of homework and I being most diligent in doing this and also doing extra study.

I just cannot imagine how anyone could have allowed a language to develop like this.

You would think that – having discovered that the grammar is complete nonsense – they would have changed it – but no – they continue to teach it year after year.

Makes no sense to me at all.

But I will learn it – just you wait and see.

The Sami have been doing it for millennia

2012-01-17T17:58:00.006+01:00

Cate makes friends with a Husky named Archie

A final word on the popping ‘bulbs’. Parts of our lounge room are about four metres high and at the very top of the ceiling there is a row of down lights.

Well so far since we have been here only two of these have popped. There is no way I can possibly get to them to change them.

Well there is – theoretically. I could move the dining room table under them - put four dining room chairs on top of the table – gaffer taping these together so that they do not move around – and then stand my tallest ladder on top of the chairs.

I would then have to stand on the very top of the ladder. I might consider doing this if I was insane.

The chances of that happening are less than zero – and when all the lights pop I am going to ring a man and ask him to bring a big ladder and do the job.

This will be expensive because the elevator is only two meters high and anything over this height has to be carried up the stairs.

Any workman who discovers this always arrives at the door out of breath and unhappy and automatically increases the price.

And here is the link to the Snow Hotel in Kirkenes.

Well the snow hotel was an interesting experience and is something you would do if you have more money than sense. Which we did before the experience – but no longer.

For the three of us together it cost €1,000 which is such an unspeakably large amount of money to spend the night in a refrigerator I am embarrassed to tell you about it.

I mean if you really want to know what the Snow Hotel is like just go and ask your local butcher if you can spend the night in his cool room.

Sure it will not have the same ambience and you will have to ignore the hanging dead animals but it will cost you a shitload less than €1,000. Just imagine that your are at a Republican Primary.

I don’t remember much about it anyway because I was plastered because I knew I would not be able to sleep unless I was. It is fecking cold in there.

And for those of you who are worried about the snow hotel crashing in around you – forget about it. The Sami have been doing this for many thousands of years and have never lost a guest.

The worst that can happen is that you will you will need to go to the toilet and will stumble out into the snow and die. I am told that it is not a bad way to go.

For those Viennese who read the blog – we have discovered a marvellous new vegetarian restaurant in 1010. It is called Tian and the food is sensational – and very reasonably priced. It is non-smoking of course – otherwise we would not go there. It has been open about a month and is very popular. Do yourself a favour.

We have a few flakes

2012-01-15T20:28:00.003+01:00

Gwenyth is back in Sydney dealing with the problems of people who live in houses for which they are responsible.

You know – when drains get blocked they have to fix them. We don’t have that problem here. I only have to deal with lights blowing – but we have so many I get one every couple of days.

They are all ‘down’ lights and the globes are supposed to last 10,000 hours or years or something like that and I find that they do last quite a long time if you can get them past the first five seconds but an extraordinary number pop as soon as I put them in.

I have given you a picture of a down light so you know what I am talking about.

I climb up and take the old one out and put the new one in and then climb down and turn the light on to make sure it works and when it does I turn the lights off again as you can’t refit it while it is on as it gets too hot.

Fitting can be tricky because while there is surely – (indeed must be by now) – a better method – ours is the old ring of springy metal which you have to pinch together with needle-nosed pliers and insert inside the ring of the light fitting.

The inevitable result as you let go the ring is a ‘ping’ as the metal ring launches itself into space and hides somewhere in the room – usually under a piece of furniture – and it will do this as many times as it likes – it has the patience of Job.

It can – cunningly – do this with a high degree of stealth so sometimes you cannot ever hear it land and don’t even know where to start looking.

When I eventually get it fitted I climb down and turn the lights on – to find that the light I have just fitted is not actually working at all. Not quite 10,000 hours then.

Not that we do not have household responsibilities for the house we own in Australia – its just that our agent looks after this for us – for a considerable sum of money of course.

The current person is Milton and he sends us notes saying things like ‘the sliding door track for the laundry door needs replacing and the quote for this is $326.67 - can we go ahead?’

Look I once would have queried a cost like this but it is after all only the cost of a modest continental breakfast in Norway so now I would just say – sure Milton – and have it bronzed as well for a lasting job.

We burned the Christmas tree last week. It seems impossible but it grew when we were away and we had difficulty getting into the apartment when we got back.

It put up a hell of a struggle and it took us hours of hand to hand combat to chop it up into burn size chunks and get it into the fire. It took three of us to do it and it went spitting and fizzling and sizzling to meet its maker. The cats were not happy.

So we are back to normal in Am Heumarkt. The Snow Fairy teased us today with a few little half-baked flakes. But we have hopes – it is very cold at the moment and the air conditioning has clagged out.

This is always a good sign of impending frigid weather and possible snow. Let us hope.

Don’t go to Norway for New Year’s Eve dinner.

2012-01-12T18:56:00.002+01:00

Last day in Oslo

Did I mention our New Year’s Eve. I should before I have managed to expunge the memory entirely from my consciousness. It was a truly gruesome experience and we all agreed that it may not have been the worst meal we have ever had in out lives – but it was certainly in the top five.

It was not for want of trying. We had been anticipating this for weeks and had tried to book any one of the best restaurants in Bergen by email but of course there were no responses because – as we now know – Norway is nailed shut from before Christmas until the end of the first week of January.

But we had asked our hotel to find something for us and the young man at the counter told us on the morning we arrived – which was in fact New Year’s Eve - that we were in luck. We had been on the waiting list for the ‘best restaurant in Bergen’ but they now had a vacancy and we were in.

This was our lucky night. We would be celebrating the coming of 2012 with the glitterati of Bergen.

And where – we enquired - was this fine establishment to which we had so fortuitously gained entry?

Well – he said proudly – it is our finest dining establishment – the Radisson Blu.

A collective shudder ran down our spines but - we thought – perhaps indeed there may be fine dining to be had – this young man should know – he is – after all – the Concierge of one of the finest hotels in Bergen.

We were a bit worried about what to wear as we were short of fine dining gear but we dressed up as best we could and hoped that no one would notice us – and would forgive a few tourists amongst the gay crowd of dinner jacketed and cocktail gowned citizens quaffing champagne and snuffling canapés in the deep north.

We could have gone as miners straight from the coal face and not have been out of place – even with our lamps still burning.

The restaurant is called Ole Bull – named after a famous Norwegian violinist and composer.

It actually resembles a works cafeteria and we – assuming that we were in the wrong place – asked the man at reception where the real restaurant was.

He replied tersely that this was the only restaurant open and that it was a buffet and he indicated clearly that he did not want to work on New Year’s Eve and that we were welcome to fuck off.

We wish now that we had taken this indication as a warning of what was to come but with a look between us of ‘how bad could it be?’ we were taken to a table that had a nice view of four Russian labourers who were using eating utensils for the first time and a child who was trying to push beans into its ears – with some degree of success.

It was apparent that this was going to be a night to remember – and not for the right reasons.

I did a quick reconnaissance of the buffet and brought back the bad news. There was a desultory salad – three lacklustre vegetables – potatoes and one large lump of unidentifiable meat (when asked the server later described it as ‘old bull’). There were no cold meats or fish or anything else vaguely edible.

Resorting to wine we selected a bottle which turned out to be corked. The man was unconvinced until he took a mouthful and had to leave the room. The second bottle was also corked. The third bottle of a different type of wine was not corked but was barely drinkable.

It seems that many people knew what they were in for and had dressed accordingly in jeans and sweatshirts. These may have been the hotel guests. Some like us obviously though it was in fact a restaurant and that they were going to have a big night out.

It was funny to watch people who were dressed up arrive and see what awaited them. They all reached for the wine list first.

The highlight for us was watching a mature and very elegant couple in evening attire arrive for what they thought was going to be a great night out. The (only) waiter tried to sit them in the middle of the restaurant next to the child rubbing his dinner into his hair and another other one red-faced and grunting as it filled its nappy.

The look on their faces was wonderful to behold.

The lady looked like she has seen Newt Gingrich in his long johns – with the flap open.

After much pleading they were given a table next to the window where they sat in a catatonic state gulping wine.

The food was disgusting muck and cost €100 per head. Coffee came from an urn.

We were gone by 9:00

Don’t go to Norway for your New Year’s Eve dinner.

Apple wants me to have a good time

2012-01-10T14:45:00.002+01:00

We stayed in the Snow Hotel in Kirkenes which is just about at the end of the earth. It was quite a fascinating experience as it is entirely constructed of ice and snow and the beds are made of ice but with mats on top of them on which you sleep – in sleeping bags.

It is -4° in the hotel so one needs to keep very warm - or die.

If one does need to answer a call of nature during the night the toilets are quite a distance away along a path covered with snow. I did not need to undertake this perilous voyage.

As it usually does – my iPhone calendar had deleted all my travel details as soon as I left on our trip so I had no electronic record of flights and hotels or travel.

I do not appear to have iCloud working as well as I should.

In anticipation of this – as it has happened before - I had printed out hard copies of everything – so was well prepared.

When I got back to Vienna I discovered that my iCal had planned a big year/century for me.

A ‘new event’ had been created for every day for every year for as far ahead as I could see. Now there was no telling what the events were - I had to fill in the details – but Apple clearly want me to have a good time – forever.

What nice people they are.

Now if I could just work out how to keep my exciting events in my calendar I would be even happier.

As far north as you can go

2012-01-07T11:11:00.001+01:00

More magic yesterday when we visited the North Cape which is the northerly most point on the continent.

We took a bus trip through falling snow for about half an hour to the North Cape (71° 10’ 21”) where we were able to play in the falling snow and in massive snow drifts.

In the evening we had the Snow Safari which was actually a journey between two towns. This was more exciting and terrifying than I had imagined it would be and although I did manage to fall off a snowmobile it was not mine.

These things are beasts and it is easy to fly off the track – which Cate did – and got beached on a hillock.

In an attempt to rescue her I managed to overturn her machine and ended up upside down in the snow – but surprisingly the machine did not roll on top of me and crush me into oblivion. God loves me.

Contrary to my assertion that the snowmobiles would be governed as to speed – they were not - and our guide assured us that they easily do 120 kph if we wanted them to.

I am sure I got close to this on a couple of occasions when I panicked and attempted to brake but accelerated instead.

It was a maniacal experience punctuated by bouts of breathtaking beauty when we stopped in the semi-arctic wilderness to soak up the darkened landscape and look for the northern lights – which we did not see on this occasion.

Today we are Kirkenes and are just about to go on a Husky Safari. Cate will be driving – I will be a passenger. You can’t expect God to look after me two days running what with everything that is happening in the world.

We have seen the Northern Lights

2012-01-05T20:21:00.005+01:00

Northern Norway

Today we visited Tromso which is the most northerly something in the world. They did tell us what but I have forgotten. Everything up here is the northern most something.

Last night we stayed up late so that Gwenyth could beat me at Yahtzee and had to do this in the bar because that was the only place we could get a drink.

The only white wine we could get was the Hurtigruten house wine which was Portuguese and had a frisson of Avgas about it but was otherwise acceptable – and was half the price of the wine we normally drink.

The downside was that there was a two-piece band that played prehistoric music (quite well as it happens) but who dressed like they were out of the Rocky Horror musical and the woman looked like she had been hung out to dry in a wind tunnel before coming to work.

After this we went on deck where it was freezing and windy but miraculously after about half an hour – at about 11:30 PM – the Northern Lights appeared directly in front of us.

It was not a magical display but it was wonderful to see them at last. I put my flask full of Jameson to use and we stayed on deck for about an hour watching the lights flickering in the distant sky.

The days are very short now and there is almost no real daylight but there is enough light to see the ethereally beautiful scenery. It is impossible to describe and my limited internet access does not allow me to put any photos on Picasa but I will do this when I get back.

This morning after breakfast we had a nearly full moon which added its own magical light to the scenery.

Northern Lights (Wikipedia)

Snow and ice at last

2012-01-04T17:28:00.004+01:00

Ørnes

Trondheim was quite special – and had snow. Well – none fell but there was a bit lying around. There was also lots of ice on the footpaths and I of course managed to fall over – narrowly avoiding doing this on my camera.

Thinking ‘Huskies’, ‘broken ribs’ and ‘smashed cameras’ as my feet slipped from under me I grabbed my camera and flung it to the side. Fortunately it was tethered to me by a strap – and I nursed it as I fell – taking the hit on my thigh.

So we boarded the ‘Nordnorge’ which is the biggest and newest of the Hurtigruten fleet. There should have be about 50 of us but one of the other boats broke down so we have been joined by about 200 Germans – oh goody.

But for some reason we were upgraded and have cabins on an upper deck – and they are really quite nice.

It’s a bonzer boat but you can’t get an espresso coffee until the bar opens at 2:30 PM and until then you have to drink the brown sludge.

A decent bottle of wine costs €95.

You can tell the new passengers on board after each stop – they are the ones looking vacantly at the wine list and dribbling.

The scenery is just stunning – never seen anything like it.

It is getting colder and frostier as we move north. We moved into the arctic circle this morning – but we still have not seen snow falling from the sky - and may not while we are on the boat.

Tomorrow night we are going on a Snowmobile Safari for 2.5 hours into the wilderness. What an opportunity for complete mayhem. I will not be carrying a camera.

I won but Gwenyth was plastered

2012-01-01T22:51:00.005+01:00

Bergen was closed and it was raining hard all day so we were stuck indoors. So we napped and sort of shot the breeze.

On Sunday afternoon - New Year’s Day, there is not a lot happening in Bergen and it is raining so we went to Egon which is the only restaurant which is open and I had a pizza and it said it came with meat which it certainly did and I tried to prise most of this off.

Cate and Gwenyth had some other stuff and two bottles of French Chablis.

This was not too bad and was only €70 per bottle – a bargain by Norwegian standards.

I stuck to the coke because this was like 4:00 PM and the sun was not over the yardarm (even though it set at 3:27 PM). (It rises here at about 9:30 AM.)

We had a delightful lunch which I finished with pancakes and then adjourned to our room which is a deluxe double room overlooking the harbour and costs almost as much per night as a meal in a restaurant. This is now the benchmark.

Gwenyth had sent me to 7-11 to buy playing cards so that she could teach me German Whist. This is not a complicated card game but requires that you remember the cards that are played and that you picked up.

This is of course quite beyond me because at my age I can barely remember to put my underpants on in the morning so she beat me hollow. I won no games out of about 20.

My revenge was to challenge her to chess using my iPad. The advantage I had was that:

1: She had not played chess for a very long time.

2: The iPad chess game makes all the pieces seem like imploded sea creatures. It is impossible to distinguish a bishop from a pawn.

3: She was completely plastered.

Naturally I won – but not easily because I had been sucking Jameson at the time and deteriorated as time went on – but fortunately not as rapidly as Gwenyth.

Tomorrow early we go to Trondheim. Who knows? It may snow. Sorry Steph. No pics, too much rain.

Bergen is closed and wet

2012-01-01T12:23:00.001+01:00

Akershus Fortress Oslo

When we went to collect our railway tickets I finally found a money exchange place so was able to get an enormous number of Norwegian woggles. Well - enough to buy a couple of dinners anyway.

The prices of everything just leave us gasping. It’s just like when we first arrived in Vienna from Australia.

Restaurants in particular are horrendous – and the food is just not that good in the places we have been. But of course we have not yet – and will not be able – to visit a restaurant with any sort of reputation.

So we arrived in Bergen after a 7 hour train trip from Oslo. A most beautiful and spectacular train trip – reputed as one of the world’s best – through wonderful snow covered mountains and villages. Snow so deep it almost covered houses.

Unfortunately – and as usual – as we came down to the sea – the snow disappeared again and we still have not actually experienced snow falling on us this winter– or walked through snow – and me with all my woolly gear and Ugg boots and Ugg gloves and Boss winter coat and special lined pants.

Bergen is a lovely town and – like the rest of Norway – is closed - even more so than Oslo.

We had tried to book restaurants for New Year's Eve from Oslo but none had replied (now we know why) but when we arrived our hotel concierge said that he had managed to get us into the ‘best restaurant in Bergen.’

This turned out to be the Ole Bull in the Radisson Blu and it was the least impressive buffet any of us had ever seen.

It was rather like a works cafeteria – but with food that would have had the workers out on strike.

The first two bottles of wine with which we were presented were corked. There was no choice of a main meal – we were told it was in fact old bull. There was no fish. No fish in a Norwegian buffet?

Because it was in fact the only restaurant open in the hotel we were of course surrounded by families with small children.

We were kept amused by the sight of people dressed to kill for a night on the town arriving and beginning to understand what New Year’s Eve at the ‘best restaurant in town’ was like.

It was of course shriekingly expensive at more than €100 per person.

We were done by 9:00 and in bed by 10:00 but the fireworks over the harbour woke us up at midnight.

We are a bit stuck for our one day in Bergen. It is raining so we cannot do much walking about and as it is New Year’s Day all the museums are closed – along with ALL the restaurants and shops and coffee shops.

Tomorrow we fly early to Trondheim where we pick up our boat – the Nordnorge.

We have paid for this in advance and so that we do not need to rely on their alcohol (wine from €37 per bottle) I have with me 1.5 litres of Jameson.

Oslo is closed

2011-12-29T21:36:00.000+01:00

Oslo – is not cold at all. There is no sign of snow but – like Vienna – they say it will snow after we leave. Yeh!

We have a list of restaurants we would like to visit but they are all closed – all closed - until 3 January – so our plans for fine Norwegian dining have been thwarted. It is strange that all the good restaurants go on holidays at the same time – but there you have it.

And it is almost impossible to get into a good café in the middle of Oslo – they all have crowds of people waiting to get in. What is it with these people? Don’t they have jobs? I just cannot imagine what it would be like in the tourist season.

It is - as expected – excruciatingly expensive. I came with a bundle of Euros but no Norwegian woggles and have not been able to find a single place where I can exchange Euros for woggles. What? I hear you say. But these are everywhere in every city!

Well yes – everywhere but in Oslo. I have seen one in two days – and it was closed for renovations. And as for banks – I have seen two – and the one I entered was crowded and required me to take a ticket and wait – which I declined to do.

So for money I am reduced to the limited amount I can get from cash machines – and they are remarkably parsimonious.

Last night we went for dinner to the Grand Hotel café which was a wonderful experience and we just had to grit our teeth at the cost.

Tonight we were more circumspect and went locally to Ali Baba’s which was still scary but within reason.

Tomorrow is our last day in Oslo then we catch the train to Bergen.

Hello Texas

2011-12-25T23:24:00.004+01:00

Our Christmas Table

So this below is what the turkey legs looked like when they were deboned and stuffed. The sauce was made with limes, red onions, garlic, ginger and chicken stock.

We served these for dinner with Merisi together with my leek and potato soup which I had supplemented with bacon. The deboned legs were not terrific – but were adequate. I think in retrospect that we should have added some spices.

On Christmas day we added the spices and these were wonderful and we had these with caramelised onions.

In the morning we went to Stadtpark to feed the ducks with some cranberries with which Merisi had provided us when she came to dinner. I regret to say that they evinced no interest whatsoever. A hooded crow picked up two but spat them both out. The ducks came nowhere near us.

Stuffed Legs

We had some fabulous Austrian Sauvignon Blanc for lunch – which actually took place at 5:00 PM:

I coordinated this with Ernest Boston – as arranged. He advised:

‘I had a turkey sandwich with toasted bread and pepper jack cheese, and for dessert Butterfinger candy bars with milk. Cooper had turkey!’

So we have arranged the first coordinated Christmas lunch between Austria and Texas. I drank a special toast to Ernest Boston who I count as a special friend who I have not yet met.

It was not as good as it should have been

2011-12-22T18:22:00.004+01:00

It was not as good as it should have been due to a loss of focus at critical moments.

When you are about to serve the main course and realise that you have not started to cook the vegetables then you have a significant problem – so the vegetables were a bit – well – on the crunchy side.

And I did leave a few ingredients out of the main dish and did not discover these until later – but they were not really important so had no material bearing on the outcome.

This was due to the fact that I spent time chatting with the guests rather than being in the kitchen where I belonged – so have no one to blame but myself.

But Gwenyth’s Australian specialties were a hit – although due to the inadequacies of Austrian cream the presentation of the Pavlova was flawed.

Apparently Austrian cream - once whipped - needs help to stay that way. We were not aware of the need for the magic ingredient to make this happen so – much to Gwenyth’s horror - the Pavlova began to slop over the sides of the plate as soon as she had decorated it with cream and kiwi fruit.

But it tasted just fine and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

Today Rozalin took delivery of our gigantic Turkey and I collected it from her.

Gwenyth and I decided that – for many good reasons - we should debone it so we watched a video on You Tube and then sharpened our boning knife and set about it.

I can’t say we did it with as much grace and skill as the butcher on the video but it is a pretty damn fine result and we now have a complete turkey without bones – just the legs and breasts.

Miraculously – we both still have all our fingers and thumbs and there was no loss of blood.

It is not something I would want to do more than once every year.

They will be so drunk they will not care

2011-12-21T00:53:00.002+01:00

What a gorgeous day it was in Vienna today. So beautiful that I was compelled to take photos of ducks in Stadtpark – to add to my extensive collection.

While Cate slaved away at work Gwenyth and I walked through Stadtpark and up into the Wollzeile where our first stop was Berndorf to buy Oven Mitts.

Gwenyth had found mine wanting – in that they did not protect your hands from the heat. An important issue – not mitigated by the rooster motifs.

We accomplished this and then on to Kiehls in Tuchlauben to buy body lotions for Christmas presents. I am not a great fan of these products because I reckon that most of this stuff is just based on sorbolene which costs about €10 per litre with scents and junk added and the price multiplied by a factor of 50.

I have very dry skin and use Nivea which costs me about €6 for a large pot.

However – to show that I can also be gulled I must admit that I do use Kiehls Facial Fuel which is supposed to restore my face to its former glory – which of course it will not - and I bought a tube of this without looking at the price and when I got home discovered that it was €44.

Stiffen the lizards.

The major victory of the day was in the knife department.

I have two very good German knives and one fabulous meat knife - but this was hand made by Cate’s father many moons ago and cannot last much longer.

So I have been looking for a good knife block – a replacement meat knife, a bread knife and some utility knives. Lo and behold they had just what I wanted in Berndorf in a set. The perfect block with all the knives I was missing.

This and a Sacher Wurstel at Café Diglas and the morning was perfect.

Wednesday is dinner party day so will be rather more stressful.

I have decided that I will not make my soup early. I did a trial run of my leek and potato soup when Cate was away last week and it was just awful.

So I will make it in the afternoon. But I am not going to try to do the Asian vegetables with the honey lemon chicken – I am going with an Austrian variation.

And I am going to try to get everyone so drunk early that they just don’t care.

I have some fabulous Austrian red wine – the best there is. It knocked their socks off last year and it will do the same this year. And for dessert wines I have some of the best I have ever tasted. And Anzac biscuits - and lamingtons – and pavlova.

Now they have whole displays of it

2011-12-19T19:01:00.001+01:00

So today Gwenyth and I went to Simmering to complete the Christmas cooking shopping and were almost completely successful. We found everything we needed – with the help of Merisi who I contacted twice by telephone for help with the Austrian names of substances we needed.

We discovered – for example – that Austrians do not have self-raising flour. The flour has to fend for itself – just like Auslanders. You can assist it with baking powder and this comes in a tiny packet and is called – unsurprisingly - bakpulver.

The only thing we could not find was molasses or treacle and I was going to ask the same lady I had asked last week about kokos-flocken but she was not there. She was probably on stress leave after our previous interaction.

And would you believe it – today they had a whole gigantic display of kokos-flocken two metres high and two metres wide – and Gwenyth even found passionfruit – but she said they looked a bit weird.

So we asked Merisi and she pointed out the bleeding obvious that Bobby’s would have stuff like molasses so we went there on the way home and were able to buy golden syrup and bicarbonate of soda.

Gwenyth has now started cooking and has already made Anzac biscuits. The first batches did not come out as planned because she had trouble fathoming the oven but she finally got the hang of it.

Incidentally – as one of my commenters has pointed out – I could not possibly get the Christmas tree out of the apartment intact. In fact our trees are always so big that it is impossible to get them out to take them to a ‘dead tree’ place unless I cut them up – and then it would take me 20 trips and make a colossal mess.

The tree is a monster

2011-12-18T16:12:00.003+01:00

Vienna today

Gwenyth has arrived and has unloaded all her supplies in the kitchen. She did not have much room for clothes but we have plenty of those for winter in Norway so she will be just fine.

Importantly – she has brought additional supplies of essentials such as Bushells Extra Strong Tea Bags.

Today is beautiful and sunny in Vienna but it is a balmy 5° with a minimum of 0° so I am not even wearing my big coat and woolliest scarves and gloves when we go out.

Molly arrives from Paris on Thursday so we will theoretically have a full house. We actually have five bedrooms but Cate and I use the upstairs ones for our studies so we really only have two guest bedrooms and as Molly was last to arrive she has the bathroom with the kitty litter in it.

It will be just like home as this is what she has in Paris with her cat Merlin.

Yesterday we bought our Christmas tree and as a special treat we took Gwenyth with us as soon as we picked her up from the airport and settled her in.

We bought it from the farmers from Niederösterreich who have the same spot just near us each year in Modenapark.

Gwenyth chose a 5 metre monster and we sealed the purchase with the farmers by having a glass of pear schnapps with them. The young farmer wheeled it home for us on a trolley and we then had to get it up four flights of stairs – and through our front door.

This was a task of herculean proportions and required every ounce of strength and ingenuity. After much panting, grunting, suffering, sweating and heaving we got the monster – somewhat the worse for wear – into the apartment.

Unsurprisingly – it did not fit so I chopped off the top metre and then we stood it upright - undid it’s net - and it sprang into its full glory and the rear of the lounge room disappeared from view.

It is by far the biggest tree we have ever had and is much too big for the apartment - but is quite gorgeous. Sissi loves it and has been exploring it extensively.

We have weighed up the pros and cons of putting decorations on the tree – because of the Sissi factor – and have opted just for lights.

It's only the crazies like us who love it

2011-12-16T14:06:00.001+01:00

None of that this year

Yesterday in the never ending quest for foodstuffs I went to Interspar at Simmering – which is not terrific but is a step up from my local Spar. I go there because it is easy to get to and easy to park and I needed to buy some bulky stuff so needed the car.

There to my amazement I discovered dessicated coconut. This was not easy because the dictionary in my iPhone says it is called Kokosraspel – but of course it is not and the shelf stacker – whose entire day I ruined by asking her a question – tried to send me first to the vegetable section (for coconuts) and then to the Asian section (for coconut milk).

She had no idea what I was talking about and I left her to do what she was doing – which was changing the prices on shelves. I think what she really wanted to be doing was tearing the heads off rabbits.

But I knew that Merisi was right and that there simply must be dessicated coconut in any decent sized supermarket in Vienna so I commenced a forensic examination of the shelves – commencing with the cake mixes – and there it was – it is called – Kokos Flocken. Why not?

(I have never found anything that is called what it is supposed to be called in accordance with my German dictionary).

Next door to it were Pine Nuts which I also needed.

I was then on a roll so went looking for the Austrian equivalent of Copha and found Ceres brand Kokosfett.

But I still could not find passionfruit. No sign of that anywhere. But Gwenyth is bringing some of that so there is no need for panic.

So I think we have everything we need for the Australian delicacies.

What we will not be having here is a white Christmas because so far there has been no sign of winter – let alone snow. Today it is a balmy 6° and is raining.

But I am sure we will be able to find some snow Norway – and I suppose it is good for the Viennese – most of whom hate snow with a passion.

It is only the crazies like us and Sissi who love it.

She brings a smile to his face

2011-12-13T17:28:00.002+01:00

Gwenyth and I are engaging in volumes of correspondence about her needs for the Christmas cooking. She is a woman of determination and single mindedness - and is a sailor which gives her a particular edge over most of humanity in that she is accustomed to engaging in death defying feats which would be considered insanity by most of us.

Anyway she has in mind that she will cook a number of Australian delicacies for Christmas. These will include Anzac Cookies, Lamingtons and of course – the previously discussed Pavlova - and I have been foraging for local ingredients to meet the precise needs of these traditional recipes - plus her particular recipe for Turkey stuffing. With not much success.

Well – as you can imagine – food as subtle and delicate as these Antipodean delights require the very best ingredients. Just as La Tour d’Argent requires the finest Ducks in the land – Australian native cooking requires genuine Australian ingredients to bring out the best flavours.

There are a few items that have caused us difficulties – and I must admit this is probably because of my lack of knowledge of local conditions.

Gwenyth needs clementines and up until she told me she needed clementines I had never heard the word before. So I asked Cate and she said she had never seen a clementine in Vienna and I conveyed this to Gwenyth who said OK we will use Limes.

Lo and Behold I went to Spar yesterday and there is a big basket of clementines! Starve the lizards!

She also needs Copha which I know does not exist here (It being uniquely Australian) and there is nothing like it in my shitty little Spar but Merisi tells me something like it is available and she has given me some brand names so that I can find it.

But Gwenyth tells me she is bringing Copha anyway because there is nothing quite like it.

And passionfruit? Surely they have it in Vienna but I cannot remember seeing it – ever. But Gwenyth has some in a can. She has a boatload of other stuff for us as well.

Each time Gwenyth comes she brings a black sports bag full of stuff for us. It is her intention to leave it with us. What usually happens is that she visits Robertino the shoe man in the Wollzeile. She says she does not have time to buy shoes in Sydney.

Once she bought seven pairs of shoes. He knows her. He loves her. As you can imagine – she brings a smile to his face.

The real list and the imaginary list

2011-12-12T18:38:00.004+01:00

Well I have not heard from Cate since she arrived in that far away hot place and that is either because she has been kidnapped and beheaded or because she has been too busy to call.

I am a glass half full person so am inclined to think the latter - and I am sure someone would have called me if she had been kidnapped. That would bugger up Christmas completely because Rozalin has ordered the turkey – and it is a big one.

In the meantime I am running the household and preparing for Christmas and this involves a number of things that require a great deal of focus - because I have been given a list of things to do.

There are actually two lists.

There is the real list – which includes cleaning the candle (I will come back to that) – and preparing the guest bedroom for Gwenyth – things which I was actually asked to do – and agree that I was asked to do.

Then there is the imaginary list which may include – for the sake of illustration – polishing the toaster. (I know I have used this before but it is a good example of things that can get on to an imaginary list).

So the conversation will go

Did you polish the toaster?

What?

I asked you to polish the toaster for Christmas – did you do that?

No you did not ask me to polish the toaster – and of course I did not polish the toaster - why would anyone who is not completely insane polish their fucking toaster for Christmas?

And there may be others even more obscure than this.

Needless to say these are real to Cate – bless her little cotton socks – so I am trying to anticipate her needs and will indeed give the toaster a quick rub before she gets back. It may not shine but it will gleam dully.

As for the candle. Well we bought these two gigantic silver and glass candle box thingies with equally gigantic candles – but the candles don’t burn properly – (and I think I know why – they get too hot).

But anyway the candles overflow and splatter wax all over the inside of the boxes so Cate asked me to clean one box - which I did and I tried to fix the candle with some wax surgery and by building a dam around the top of the candle.

Well you can see how successful this was. When I lit it last night it went all Mount St. Helens on me and sprayed wax everywhere. It is a complete shambles and I am not going to light it again. Ever.

I am also washing all the cat’s rugs. The cats have about a dozen rugs which they sleep on all over the house and I wash these all the time but of course as soon as a cat sleeps on one it looks like it has not been washed - so I am anticipating an imaginary task.

I am pretty good at this and should be able to deal with all the other real and imaginary tasks before Cate gets back.

These are large lumpy men

2011-12-10T00:19:00.001+01:00

Well it has been a difficult process but I think I have settled on a fairly classic leek and potato soup for the entrée – but with some slight variations.

While Jamie Oliver can be a bit prattish he has some great ideas and his leek and potato soup with carrots and celery looks really good so I shall try this during the week while Cate is away to make sure it works.

Incidentally the place to where Cate is going is considered to be so dangerous that one of the US lawyers – who was supposed to go - has pulled out for fear of his own safety and Cate is being accompanied by members of the Ducky Pharma Global Security Team.

These are large lumpy men who used to work for the FBI or CIA and can kill people with one blow of their massive fists. Or so I am told – having never seen one. But I can imagine.

Cate is of course made of sterner stuff and has no fear. She is taking Vegemite and one smear of this will render an attacker helpless and incapable of further action for at least 24 hours.

The beauty of this (potato and leak soup) is that it is almost impossible to cock it up so whatever you produce will be edible and even if it is really strange you can say stuff like ‘this is my special version of leek and potato soup with Bavarian snap weed and it may not be to everyone’s taste’ and they will just go along with it.

For the main course I have decided on a hybrid-variation of Bill Granger’s Honey Lemon Chicken. But I am only starting with his recipe and then will use my own variations. We have had this before and the last time it was a howling success.

My problem is that I may not be able to replicate this under pressure. But Gwenyth will be here and she is as steady as a rock! And Pizzeria Grado is just next door in the event of a Goat Fuck of epic proportions.

The secret ingredients in many of my recipes are Tridosha spices. These are absolutely brilliant and complement any dish. They do not ship overseas so whenever Gwenyth visits us she carries a couple of kilos of this stuff for us. It is just magic.

So while Cate is battling the nests of writhing vipers in the nether reaches of her empire I shall be testing recipes – in the hope that she will return to sample my delights.

And no it is not Afghanistan.

The smell of burning cookbook filled the house

2011-12-08T22:34:00.003+01:00

For the dinner part I am not allowed to have what I had last year. Which is a bit tricky because I can’t really remember what I had last year - but I think it was probably my quite special Hungarian goulash soup – followed by my really special honey chicken with Australian bush spices and the Turkish potato dish that I make with olives.

I have never made a dessert in my life so probably bought some Viennese cakes and we would have had some nice cheeses - certainly some Grana Padano, Roquefort, Brie and hard Austrian mountain cheeses. They do these really well.

So I have been trying out some new recipes from Bill Granger who is an Australian chef of whom I am very fond. He does simple and exciting food and I have been experimenting - and indeed so has Cate.

Indeed she tried cooking one of his books. She did not intend to do this – in fact she rarely cooks - but she was trying out one of his recipes and she put his cookbook on the hotplate that was on and the saucepan on the hotplate that was off.

We managed to save most of the cookbook and with some diligence I managed to get most of the gunk off the hotplate.

Dinner turned out quite nicely although it took days for the apartment to lose the smell of burning cookbook.

A famous Antipodean dessert

2011-12-07T22:35:00.001+01:00

I have been having trouble getting motivated to blog because of my cold which turned into bronchitis - or something similar - so I went to the doctor.

He almost never examines me but while I was in his surgery I barked like a seal and flapped my flippers a few times and this motivated him to produce his stethoscope - brush the moths off it – and apply it to my chest.

He was sufficiently impressed by my wheeziness to write a rezept and I have been taking some drugs which are now making me better.

I said that Cate would not have to go away again this year unless there was a Goat Thing.

Well of course there has been one so it looks like she will be leaving this weekend and will be going away for a week to a very hot place far away.

In the meantime she has invited her Vienna team for dinner at our place - to be catered for by Chef Badger on 21 December.

I did this last year and I was quite happy with the menu and the outcome in terms of food and wine. Some other issues intruded on the evening but they were nothing to do with my department.

This year Gwenyth will be here – acclimatising for our trip to Norway – so we will be doing the dinner party together. She is planning on making a Pavlova which is a famous Antipodean dessert – which has probably not previously passed the lips of any of our expected guests.

I will be interested to see what they think of this amazing concoction. It will certainly be a challenge for Gwenyth and I to find all the appropriate ingredients.

Perhaps I can stave Lenny off for another year

2011-12-05T23:25:00.002+01:00

Helsinki December 2010

My son has Lenny found a new way to humiliate me – this time by long distance. A week or so ago when I was in Paris I received an invitation from him to play Chess online through Chess.com.

Cool – I thought – I haven’t played Chess for about 35 years – but I am sure I haven’t forgotten how – and what would he know about Chess. Well – certainly enough to beat me. I have escaped with one draw and the rest of the time he has crushed me.

I asked him where he learned to play Chess and he said that I had taught him – and I just cannot remember doing that because it was so long go.

There is an evolution in the father-son relationship when at one stage the father can beat the son at everything and finally the son can beat the father at everything. I had hoped it would take longer than this.

I remember the last time I played my son at tennis. He was about 13 years old and it was not a matter of me beating him - it was a matter of me trying to escape death from his serves.

I would try to anticipate where he would serve and at the moment the ball hit his racket I would hurl myself in the opposite direction as this yellow rocket fanged past me at about 200 kilometres per hour - taking chunks of the court with it.

Occasionally – if he faulted – I would get a chance at a second serve and then he would run me ragged - but would occasionally let me win a point.

He could not let me win at golf. Even if he had wanted to let me win I was simply too bad and even on his worst days he could still beat me by a wide margin.

But chess – even with my waning mental powers I still should be able to give him a run for his money – but I seem to have lost the basic skills.

I have – in the basement where else – a beautiful chess set – and some chess books – but it would take me years to find them. So I have written to Amazon - and a book and a basic chess set will arrive shortly. I will gird my loins to see if I can stave off Junior for another year or so before he can really beat me at everything.

Gosh they are people just like the rest of us!

2011-12-02T16:19:00.034+01:00

This is one of the best videos on the subject I have seen. It was produced by GetUp in Australia which does a lot of stuff with which I agree – and a few things with which I don’t.

This is particularly brilliant and wonderful - and I happen to be quite passionate about gay rights.

A vote for same-sex marriage will come before the Australian Parliament next year and this will finally give Australia the opportunity to recognise the fundamental human rights of gays and lesbians.

Gosh they are people just like the rest of us!

And Oh Please let’s stop this bullshit about the bible says that marriage is a union between a man and a woman.

The bible is a collection of ancient texts written by who knows who thousands of years ago and altered and amended and added to and subtracted from and altered and mistranslated and reinterpreted a million different ways and those who read and take notice of it take the bits out of it that they choose to and ignore the rest.

Marriage has nothing to do with religion – it is a civil ceremony recognised by the state.

Let's leave religion out of it.

It made me forget my other problems

2011-12-01T16:49:00.001+01:00

Well I was working on my Aperture book last night and I think I finally mastered white balance. I did this using the video tutorials on the Apple website – given that I did not have a panda to work with – but Apple showed me how to do it with a wedding dress – which worked just as well.

So I tried it – using the Loupe Tool – and what a marvellous thing this is – on some of the very blue photos we took in Finland last year on the Rib Breaking Expedition.

Now I think the snow was in fact very blue but there were some other difficulties. The first was that when I fell off my dog sled I fell on to my Canon 400D and crushed it beyond all recognition. It was no longer a functioning camera.

Another was that Gwenyth had a camera that was made in 1982 and was – to be frank – not worth a pinch of pelican poo. On a good day – in broad daylight – in perfect conditions – it took bad and out of focus photos.

Our back up camera was my Sony Handycam which I did not know how to use – having barely ever used it before – and not expecting to have to use it – and not being in any condition to use it. So Cate used it – on the video setting – and I think made 92 one second video films of Lapland.

Our photos are certainly good enough for the MOMA but not good enough to be shown anywhere else.

But anyways – while I was pottering around with this – and dead pleased I was with mastering white balance - I thought I should clean out my Aperture Trash.

Now it is a cunning feature of Aperture that when you delete a photo it does not get completely deleted – it just goes into the Aperture trash bin.

This means that if you have made a mistake you can rescue it from there by telling Aperture to put it back.

Well I had 45,000 images in the trash and it had taken me a lot of time and effort to get them there – weeks in fact – because I had had to merge my almost identical iPhoto and Aperture libraries – each of about 35,000 images – and cull the duplicates – and take out the dead and get rid of the dross - and finally I was pretty sure I was ready.

It turned out to be not as easy as I had hoped it would be - and I am not sure why.

I was idly looking at the trash before emptying it and saw the ‘restore’ button and wondered – as you do – how it worked – so I highlighted a photo and clicked ‘restore’ – and nothing happened – so I clicked it again – and nothing happened – so I did what any rational person would do and just clicked it a few more times on the basis that if clicking doesn’t work the first few times you just keep clicking until it does.

Well it didn’t - so I eventually lost interest and then did what I wanted to do which was to empty the Aperture trash.

So I clicked that and nothing happened. But my little coloured wheelie thing appeared which meant that something was happening so I just went about my business.

A little while later I noticed that a window had popped up and it said ‘restoring photos’ – and the counter was up to 15,000 odd.

Holy Shit I thought – that is no good at all – if it restores all the photos from the trash bin I will have to delete them again – that will take weeks.

But I could not stop it.

There is no Ctrl+Alt+Del in Apple and the little coloured wheelie thing was stopping me from doing a force quit of Aperture.

By this time my ‘restoring photos’ counter was up to 97,000 and I realised that it was going to restore all of my photos for every time I had clicked the mouse button. EVERY time I had clicked the mouse button. Spare me!

I tried turning the iMac off and back on - but it just kept restoring.

So I sat there watching in great horror – like a white mouse trapped in a glass case with python as the counter reached more than 500,000.

Finally after fours hours the little coloured wheelie thing stopped spinning and I could force quit Aperture.

Fearfully I then opened it to see how many photos I had.

23,000. It was an Apple trick to make me forget about all my other silly problems. It worked.

Of course my trash bin is still full – and I am not looking forward to having to deal with that. But it is better than having to delete 477,000 photos.

Rib update

2011-11-30T12:37:00.002+01:00

Our Courtyard 15 November

You haven’t asked about my ribs for a while so I thought I would give you a status report – because it is nearly a year since I broke five of the little blighters in Lapland – by falling off a dog sled onto my Canon 400D camera.

Well they are much, much better – but not completely mended. I still get some pain and discomfort and they are uncomfortable at night when I roll over in bed – not that this is easy to do anyway when you have cats perched on top of you.

The reason I was reminded of my ribs was that on my last day in Paris I got a doozey of a cold - the worst part of which is a gasping, rasping, hacking, wheezing cough – which when performed in public makes people move away very quickly indeed.

This still gives my ribs a twinge – but had I had it last January would have finished me off completely. For the benefit of those who have never broken five ribs - I have described some of the ramifications here.

But I am sure it will be better soon. Molly got me some cold tablets in Paris and I am taking these assiduously. Not that I think cold tables do much, but I do like to avoid – as much as possible – the leakage that attends these types of events – and cold tables tend to mitigate these.

So there is not much one can do when one is in a complete fug so last night I turned to learning how to use Aperture which is the Apple equivalent of Photoshop.

Now I will never be any good as a photographer – have no pretensions or expectations to be - and in fact take all my photos on the automatic setting so as to avoid the fiddling.

Such adjustments as I do make I do with the Aperture software and I like playing around with special effects. You will have noticed that I like saturated colours.

But I have barely scratched the surface and have never even opened the book – which I bought a year ago – until recently – when I loaded the software and photo library – which one needs to do the lessons.

It was then that I discovered that part of the library - the ‘San Diego Zoo’ was missing. This is unfortunate because the first few lessons about white balance and exposure need the pandas and Saki monkeys and bears and other critters in the zoo.

Well – they would not give me a book and CD without a critical photo library would they? So it must be there somewhere. I will just have to find it.

Well I examined that CD within an inch of its life and I could not find the San Diego Zoo file. I did find and downloaded a lot of other photos that were not downloaded in the initial foray.

I also – somehow – managed to hide my main Aperture Library. Yes this was the library I just spent weeks building and culling from 35,000 images to 23,000 images and putting into projects, folders and albums.

This caused a temporary (but wild and heart thumping) panic until I discovered that I had moved it to another folder.

So I am never going to be much good at correcting the white balance on pandas – but we are through the zoo stage and I think I have everything else I need.

Perhaps it was supposed to be snow?

2011-11-28T22:26:00.000+01:00

La Tour Eiffel from the Pantheon

We covered quite a bit of ground during the recent visit and I saw some things I had never seen before - including the inside of the Pantheon and also the Musée national du Moyen Âge.

I am of course not the world’s most patient visitor to things like this - but I did my best.

It is hard not to notice that inside the Pantheon – which houses hordes of famous French dead people – that there are almost no dead women.

In fact the only one we could find was Madame Curie. Now I am no expert on French history but I am betting that there are a lot of women who should be there in place of some of the arch plonkers who have been entombed as Citizens of the Republic of days gone by. I mean most of them wrote a book or won a battle or became a senator. I am sure they all drank too much and caroused until dawn and fornicated abominably.

I mean Nicolas will probably end up there. Spare me!

Anyways – I did finally see and at last understand – Foucault’s Pendulum. But I am still not ready for the book.

Cate noticed – as I did last time – that there are more homeless people and beggars in Paris than in any other city we have visited in Europe. It must also – as I have mentioned previously – be the grubbiest city in Europe and have the most Graffiti artists per square metro. They should spend some tourist dollars on cleaners.

There is barely a millimeter of Montmartre which is not covered with graffiti and the whole place is a shambles. There is not much you can do about this – Vienna is not much better. It is not as though much of it is artistic. Most of it is just vandalism.

But we were glad to escape from our hotel and I have promised to do better in future. It is not really that difficult and I have promised Cate that next time I will stop taking my stupid pills at least two days before making the booking.

On reflection I think the feathery effect on the wall in the stairwells was supposed to be snow. I still have no explanation for the crazy blood splatters in the elevator.

Weasels seized my brain

2011-11-25T22:57:00.001+01:00

La Tour Eiffel at Sunset

You will not be surprised to learn that Cate does not like the hotel. Anything about it in fact – including the location. She may not – in fact – accept that it is a hotel – in the true sense of the word.

On a scale of 10 this is a 4.5 and - my lowest score since Prague in 2009 – which I really never thought I could beat. That was really special – the one with the door that you could lick while you were sitting on the toilet – if you had a mind to lick toilet doors.

That was also the one that was next to the church with the belfry and you could not only hear the bells you could almost touch them as they were just across a narrow street – and at the same level as us - and we had no sooner asked the question ‘I wonder if they still ring those?’ than our question was answered.

But they stopped at midnight at which time we were able to stop gritting our teeth and our ears and ungrip our fingers from the frayed arms of the lounge chairs that once belonged to communist apparatchiks - and even the rats became more relaxed and stopped crashing around in the walls and bleeding from the ears.

Other than that – and perhaps Stockholm – which was not really my fault – this has not been my finest hour.

But it is entirely due to faulty planning and research and a last minute panic. There were indeed mitigating factors but I will not affect to apportion blame but will take the whole burden upon myself.

But it is indeed a stupid hotel. I mean it has shag pile carpet on the walls in the restaurant and the stair wells and the elevator looks like the movie set for a scene for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre - and it is in a part of Paris where you simply would not go after dark without armed guards or unless you were training for a tour of duty in Afghanistan and even then you would not do it without 12 navy SEALS in tow.

When I got the taxi there from our first hotel my driver had never heard of it and was amazed that it existed. When I said it was 4 stars he laughed out loud and said `why would you put a 4 start hotel here?’

Why indeed?

Well we had dinner here tonight. It was adequate. We saw no beautiful people although the nightclub fired up at about 9:30 and the singer was excellent. She looked liked she was Algerian.

She clearly had the hots for me because I was wearing my Eric Bompard cashmere top – and was looking for a more mature (if not fossilised) man - but Cate kept her at bay with a mild death glance.

The Ice Cube Bar is somewhere you go by booking in advance and paying €38. For this you get to go into a freezing room and have four shots of Grey Goose Vodka.

They have these places all over Moscow. They call them Metro station entrances. The vodka is not Grey Goose but the results are much the same. The greatest hazard in the Moscow metro in winter is circumnavigating the comatose Russians and the empty vodka bottles.

In Vienna the biggest displays are for chocolate. In Moscow they are for vodka. In any given supermarket – 50% will be devoted to vodka.

Given what I have learned over the last few years – and the mistakes I have made – I am astonished that I have fucked this up so badly. With the benefit of hindsight there was almost nothing right with my decision in terms of location, quality, style, presentation, ambience etc.

I mean it is a complete Goat Fuck. It is just stupid. This is the last hotel in the world we should be at. Weasels obviously seized my brain just before I made this decision. There is no other explanation.

It does have some potential

2011-11-24T16:58:00.003+01:00

Bedroom with outdoor cupboard on right

Well we did find a few ducks yesterday on the canal near Jaures Metro station. This is near where Molly’s friend Andy lives. They were not the best looking ducks I have ever seen and they did not put on much of a show for us so I have not put a photo on the blog.

Today I moved into the KUBE hotel. This was entirely as expected. I arrived at midday and completed all the formalities including filling in forms and producing passports and credit cards and was told to come back at check-in in time – which was 3.00 PM.

So I wandered around the area which is very cosmopolitan. I am quite familiar with it because I always walk around here when I stay with Molly. It is very African and Arabic and full of strange sights. It is still the 18th Arrondissement – but the opposite side to where Molly lives.

At 3.00 PM there was no one on reception but after a while a new man appeared who could not believe that I had already checked in – and for a long time could find no evidence of my having done so – so we did the passport – credit card thing again and then he took me to my room where we did the finger recognition reader on the door thing. The fingerprint thing is the only way you can get into your room. You can imagine how much confidence I have in this working properly.

The room is certainly funky – do they still use that word? It is certainly also the most impractical hotel room I have ever been in and seems to have been stripped clean of lights and power points.

I am using my Mac on a tiny desk in a darkened corner. The nearest light is three metres away. There is no power point within three metres but I have taken the glass top off the entertainment console – which contains a sound system and DVD player – and am using the power point in there.

There is no chair for the desk but there is a little wobbly glass topped stool and if I take a wide stance I can balance precariously on that – but need to take regular breaks because it is not built for comfort.

There is no cupboard in the room but there is a coat rack with some glass beaded hangers. The upside of this is that we will be close to our coats and can keep an eye on them during the evening.

Business Centre

The bed – at first glance – seems to be large and comfortable.

And – importantly – we seem to be at the extremity of the hotel and well away from where I think the noise is made in The Ice Kube at night. I have no interest in this unless I am the one making the noise.

Despite its potential shortcomings I like it a lot.

Here we are again

2011-11-22T22:21:00.003+01:00

Photograph by Jean Baptiste Peillet

Well here we are again in the City of Light. It never ceases to fill me with wonder as there is nothing quite like it.

I spent some time on the airplane coming from Vienna trying to remember the French word for ‘what’. Just could not think of it. But amazingly – when we got into the taxi – it started coming back – as it always does – and I was chatting away with the taxi driver for an hour on the way in to Paris. He flattered me by telling me that my French was very good.

It is not – it is very bad. But I can get by and that is all I need to do.

I always forget that the French – like the Viennese – are world class smokers and you simply cannot escape the smoke anywhere outside hotels or cafés or the Metro – or indeed – anywhere in the street.

However, unlike the barbarians in Vienna – all bars, restaurants and cafés are entirely and blissfully free of smoke. I would never have believed the French could do this – it is indeed a miracle – but for which I am most grateful.

Molly and I were to go ducking today but we were a bit short of time because her landlady is selling Molly’s apartment and Molly has to be there when prospective buyers come through – and this happened today.

She needs to do this just to see to the wellbeing of her cat Merlin who is by far her most precious possession. This whole business is a bit traumatic and causing some havoc in Molly’s life but she is doing the best she can.

So today we had lunch at the refurbished Sancerre in Montmartre. This always used to do the best Onion Soup but closed down for renovations. It has reopened – and I am pleased to say that the Soupe à l'oignon is as good as it ever was.

They have kept the same waiters and the same rats – for the sake of continuity – so things are much the same as they always were.

Molly lives in the centre of Montmartre – just off the main street of Rue des Abbesses – and her local bar – or one of them – is the Grand Hotel de Clermont – which is not really a very grand hotel and I think has only four guest rooms - with a shared bathroom.

I once thought I might stay there but Molly did a reconnaissance and suggested that it would not be appropriate for a person of my breeding and with my particular standards of personal hygiene.

It is most famous for once providing long term accommodation for Edith Piaf. It now accommodates as its regular drinking patrons a strange collection of characters – some of whom I have met on my regular visits.

Just down the hill from Montmartre is the Place Pigalle where there is the Moulin Rouge and some of the most unattractive places in Paris. It was always thus and during the war the American servicemen called it ‘Pig Alley’.

It does however have one of the best Japanese restaurants in Paris and it is one of Molly’s favourites. We ate there tonight and I had my usual - and delicious tempura prawns and miso soup.

The worst part about going there is that I always have to brave the attentions of those denizens of the deep who infest the pavements of that area and think that there is nothing that a blissfully happily married man of my age would rather do than go into a dingy rat infested bar - be inveigled by girls with short skirts into buying champagne at €200 per bottle then be slipped a Mickey Finn - have my wallet emptied - my credit cards stolen and then be tossed comatose into an alley 3:00 AM.

Not that I have not done that before – but I was younger then and had more stamina – and Cate was not waiting for me in a hotel on the other side of Paris.

Not that she is indeed waiting. She is conferencing somewhere and as I am writing she is having a dinner – probably in this very hotel.

That has not distracted me. I bought a bottle of French Chablis from room service and am having a quiet glass of fine wine and writing a blog. What could be better that that.

It's all in my head

2011-11-19T23:31:00.003+01:00

Stadtpark

I have been very quiet during the last few days because I have been preparing our tax returns.

That is not quite true because I do not actually prepare our tax returns – in fact I could not prepare our tax returns – these are beyond the comprehension of mere mortals and are done by a large accounting firm with branches in almost every country in the world including Australia and Austria.

But each year I am required to provide masses of information about many things - most of which I know nothing about.

This is done online – and each year there is a new and improved form – which for some reason can never carry the information forward from the old and disreputable form – so I have to input stuff I have told them many times before about who we are and where we live and where our house is in Australia and where we live in Austria and how long we have been here and when we arrived.

And then there are things I can tell them like bank interest that we got and bank interest that we paid because I can look these things up. It is a tedious and time consuming process. Copious amounts of looking up and data collection is required.

But then things get difficult because Cate is an Australian resident who lives in Austria and works for a US company and gets paid in various places in various ways including in the USA and they ask a lot of questions that I cannot answer about things of which I know almost nothing.

As you well know – I do not get paid – I survive on what I can steal from the housekeeping – but I have to do a tax return because there are a couple of bits and pieces in my name. Not much mind you but enough that the government needs to know.

Unfortunately there only two definitive boxes ‘yes or no’. So if I am asked

‘Did you receive any dividend income from split equity holdings which you subdivided with pelican derivatives while boxing your non-taxable boodle bonds?’

I am supposed to click one of these two boxes – yes or no?

Well I left the financial world about 100 years ago and have no idea about any of this stuff any more or what happens with Cate’s stuff – and neither does she. She just gets money and spends it.

All I have is a bit of paper from a USA broker which looks a Pakahpu Ticket - and I have no idea what it means.

But fortunately – there is a box on the electronic form that says ‘I will come back to this’ and this allows me to move to the next incomprehensible question.

And – also fortunately – it is not like a computer game that does not allow you to move on until you finish one level.

So at the end of the process I have actually answered about 60% of the questions and half-answered about 20% but – regretfully – about 20% will be ones that I should go back to - but never will. This is good news for me but bad news for the major international accounting firm with branches everywhere.

What I do then is scan in all the Pakahpu Tickets and attach them to the file and press SEND and about 30 seconds later some poor sod in Sydney gets this pile of half finished steaming trash on his PC.

But – he being an accountant – will look at my scanned in documents and will know exactly what it means in respect of pelican derivatives and boodle bonds and will wonder about the blithering idiot who completed the form who does not understand the simplicity of the whole process.

But accountants are like that. I did accounting for a diploma and actually got a credit for the subject but I found the whole process miserable beyond belief.

Although I did find some of it useful when I was subsequently a director of a bank and had to make decisions about whether or not to lend money to companies - based on their balance sheets. But it never really made sense to me that no matter how bad they were their assets always equaled their liabilities.

For a later degree I did quantitative analysis. Let me tell you that if you ever have to move bales of cotton down the Mississippi river from Memphis to New Orleans and have a number of different barges with differing capacities and different speeds and need to do it in the smallest number of trips – I’m your man.

I have the formula locked in my brain. I have never been called upon to use it but it is there – waiting to be released.

Time to Speak Out!

2011-11-17T23:45:00.002+01:00

November 18th is the day to Speak Out against domestic violence and as a long time follower of the wonderful Wanderlust I agreed a long time ago to link to her blog to support this event.

One in four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. That is way too many. The aim of this event is to bring awareness to the cause and encourage victims to speak out and seek help.

Kristen has a compelling story to tell about her own experiences and the work she has been doing to help others - so please have a look at her blog and the work she is doing.

So where are the ducks in Paris?

2011-11-16T16:20:00.001+01:00

Stadtpark 15 November 2011

Well today Cate was supposed to cruise in at about 9.00 AM from Istanbul – have a shower – repack her bag and leave for Delhi at about 11.30 AM.

But I woke with the smell of goats in the air and sure enough her plane was delayed from Delhi and she did not get home until after 10:30 AM so it was a mad rush for her to get ready for the 11:30 AM pickup.

And – goat things being what they are – the travel person messed up the seats for the umpteenth time this year and she was sitting in her least favourite seat on the aircraft – in the very front row next to the toilet – but Hallelujah! It was broken and the plane was not full so she was able to move back a couple of rows.

This was after she was told on checking in that her carry on luggage was two kilos overweight. She fixed the man with her death stare and said ‘I am a Senator and I am travelling Business Class’.

He said ‘Take a book out of your luggage - I am just going to change my underpants’ and she did – and in a jiffy he was back and the problem was solved.

Of course there was also a problem with boarding and then they had to de-ice the wings and all that sort of palaver and I was getting regular progress reports - some of which were of a tense and terse nature - but part of my role is to deal with difficult situations and as my life is basically all beer and skittles I am happy to take on the role of the flak magnet when Cate has some spleen to vent – not that there was much left after she was airborne today.

Anyway – as I have said – this is her last major trip for the year – barring additional goat things which are always possible because there are some people out there just itching to fuck things up beyond all recognition - but let’s hope we can get to Christmas without too many major crises because it does take a toll on us all when things go pear-shaped.

Anyway I am not sure if I mentioned that Cate is going to a conference in Paris next Monday and I am going with her because this gives us the opportunity to spend a long weekend there and also to see my daughter Molly who lives there with her cat Merlin – and also edits my blog.

So for the first few days while Cate is conferencing Molly and I will visit cafés and cemeteries and take photos of cats and wander the streets of Paris – which is my second favorite city after Vienna.

We are staying in the conference hotel – whatever that is – for the first four days and then I have booked the Kube Hotel in Paris which is in the 18th Arrondissement where Molly lives – but not in the high end.

It was apparently once one of the coolest hotels in Paris – and has the Ice KUBE Bar – where really cool people drink.

These days it is more of a night club with a doss house attached but we will do the best we can. Paris is expensive – even in winter – and we are saving our money for Norway.

I will ask Molly where the ducks are in Paris. I may get some photos.

I am going to stick to ducks

2011-11-15T15:59:00.001+01:00

Stadtpark today

I think I am just a philistine and will never really appreciate art. I have always had great trouble with modern art and impressionism in particular – and as for pointillists – well I always thought they were impressionists with significant problems with alcohol - probably absinthe.

Mind you – I really appreciate the work that goes into impressionist and post-impressionist paintings. We saw some of Van Gogh’s paintings in Amsterdam recently and they are truly breathtaking. Some of them do not make a lot of sense to me but that is not the point – they made sense to him - and that is all that matters.

As does the fact that now people line up every day to marvel at his work.

But I do love it. I just love going to the Tate Modern or to MOMA and looking at a half a rabbit stuck on a piece of cardboard and covered in glad wrap and wondering how the artist thought of this piece of wizardry – let alone managing to translate it into a practical display.

I mean it cannot have been all that easy to get half a rabbit and preserve it so that the patrons can get near enough to see its innards and the work that has gone into engraving Beowulf onto its front teeth.

And the best part is that you can never really be sure that the artist is not pulling your chain.

Now me – I prefer something like John Constable. I like paintings you can understand. And photos. Give me Ansel Adams – there is no misunderstanding what you are looking at.

But clearly – based on recent events - the world has passed me by. I am going to stick to ducks.

I have been doing it all wrong

2011-11-14T19:09:00.000+01:00

Duck 1

Cate is now in Istanbul – staying in the ‘Swissôtel The Bosphorus’ which is a pretty snappy hotel – or would be if you were on a holiday and able to enjoy it - but in her case the only time she sees the hotel room is late at night when she gets back from her endless meetings.

Anyway it is my favourite hotel and does just about the best breakfast anywhere we have ever been - and there are a couple of chefs who will do your eggs any which way you like and you can have an omelette and have any damn thing you please in it.

But unfortunately this time she is there and I am here and in a couple of days she will back for a few hours and then will be in Delhi and then Mumbai.

It’s starting to get really cold so I have turned on the floor heating in the guest bathroom and that is where the cats spend most of their time now - even when I light the fire – which we do not really need - but I am one of those people who thinks that you cannot really be in Europe in winter and not have a fire. However – there is not point in having a fire without cats in front of it so I will have to re-think my strategy about the guest bathroom.

Now I have been having some thoughts about my photography and have realized that I am going about it the wrong way if I want to be successful. This was prompted by the sale of the attached photograph for €2.7 million – making it the most expensive photograph in the world.

The story in the Times says (in part)

A drab and largely featureless picture of a river has just become the most expensive photograph in the world, selling for $4.3 million (£2.7 million) at auction in New York, prompting raptures in the art world and a great deal of confusion among the general public.

Rhein II, a photograph of the Rhine taken by the German artist Andreas Gursky in 1999, had been valued by Christies at up to $3.5 million. On Tuesday night one buyer thought it even more valuable.

Rhein II is one of six photographs taken of the Rhine at an unspecified location. The artist described it as a “particular place with a view over the Rhine which has somehow always fascinated me, but it didn’t suffice for a picture as it basically constituted only part of a picture.”

For those outraged at the thought that a snap shot of a river could have such a price tag, it may be some consolation to know that Gursky put considerable thought into the photograph. He pondered the problem for some time, carrying “this idea for a picture around with me for a year and a half”.

The solution, it appears, was to strip it down further, until it almost resembled the work of an abstract painter. “In the end I decided to digitalise the pictures and leave out the elements that bothered me,” he said.

Gursky, 55, who grew up in Dusseldorf, is usually known for dazzling, richly detailed images portraying aspects of globalisation and commercialism.

“Space is very important for me but in a more abstract way,” he said. “Maybe to try to understand not just that we are living in a certain building or in a certain location, but to become aware that we are living on a planet that is going at enormous speed through the universe. I read a picture not for what’s really going on there, I read it more for what is going on in our world generally.”

Some viewers looking at Rhein II might wonder if the answer to this metaphysical question was: “not much”.

Christie’s, however, offered some basic instructions on how to look at the world’s most expensive photograph. Viewers were “not invited to consider a specific place along the river, but rather an almost ‘platonic’ ideal of the body of water as it navigates the landscape”.

So clearly my photos need some work if they are going to become commercially viable. I have decided that the way forward is to strip the ducks out of my duck pictures – making them effectively duckless.

The first of these is shown today. This will be part of a limited edition of duckless prints which will be available at my first show.

He is a lovely man and knows what he doing

2011-11-11T17:39:00.001+01:00

Stadtpark - Vienna

When I asked the question ‘Who are you all?’ I was of course asking the question of the weird blog followers – not of my faithful readers – who of course are the only ones who replied – the weird blog followers not being readers of my blog – and probably not being readers of many blogs at all. So I did not expect any answers – but I got many – and thank you for those.

But I have not blogged for a few days because since Cate went to Moscow I have been busy with chores many and varied – including those of a household nature.

Now Cate gets back tomorrow – briefly. She gets home from Moscow at about 12:30 and leaves for Istanbul at about 5:00. This will give her time to check on the progress I have made on the things she left for me to do (I think I have done everything), brush the cats, have some vegetable soup that I made yesterday and a couple of decent cups of coffee.

But today I discovered some fresh hell in Vienna. Our UPC box has been kaputt for some time. This is the box which provides German TV – which we do not watch – but it also provides BBC World News and a couple of other English language channels which I watch occasionally.

The situation has become more urgent of late because SKY TV no longer provides BBC News – this has just vanished - so the only UK news I can get is SKY – which is very average and recently – for example – showed every single minute of the trial of the doctor who was accused of doing whatever he did to Michael Jackson.

Would people really want to watch that for hours and hours every day? Sorry – I withdraw the question.

So I called Herr Steynmayr a few times over a period of a month or so and he eventually arrived at about 9:15 last night and tested the box and confirmed that it was FUBAR and talked to UPC.

I was surprised that instead of using a technical term to describe the noise it was making he actually mimicked the noise – which was weeeeah.

This convinced them and they said a new box was necessary (weeeeah is apparently a flat line noise).

He said to me that they could send the box which would take 7 to 8 days or I could pick it up. I said are they in Ouagadougou? How do they send it?

And he said no they are at Favoritenstrasse 80 –which is about 3 kilometers from here – so I said I would pick it up and he said – and I did not really know what he meant at the time – there will be fewer people there if you go early.

You see I really am the eternal optimist. I thought I would arrive at UPC and there would a smiling person behind the counter who would greet me and hand over a new box in exchange for the old dead box.

Well when I arrived at the UPC shop there were all these thousands of sad bastards standing around holding pieces of completely fucked TV equipment – and clutching numbered tickets in their sweaty little paws.

There were 17 counters – as far as I could see only four were attended by live people – there was a fifth person but I am unconvinced that she was alive because she remained motionless during my visit – but she may have been meditating.

My ticket number was 4,566 and the current number when I arrived was 2,567 - so I knew I was in for a wait but people were clattering comatose to the floor at a fairly rapid rate - and I had just had lunch with Merisi so was feeling pretty fresh.

I dragged a seemingly lifeless corpse from a sofa and settled down with Angry Birds.

It seemed no time at all when my number came up – and in fact it was much less than an hour – so the horror I was anticipating did not eventuate. More staff had arrived from somewhere. The customers were generally very stoic. Only one cracked - but she was an Auslander and after a good talking to went and sat down again (albeit sulkily).

A nice young man gave me a new box which I took home and installed without difficulty. The new box is not the same as the old box and I have a couple of leads left over. This means that sooner or later something is not going to work properly and Herr. Steynmayr will be required again.

He is a lovely man and knows what he doing.

I don't know - I never answer it!

2011-11-09T00:32:00.001+01:00

Ducks Stadtpark

Well none of you answered the question as to why I get so many unusual followers. So people pick me from the BoN list and follow me – for no particular reason. So it is a mystery that remains unanswered.

None of them appear to be homicidal and I am effectively invisible. As far as I am aware I am not in any phone book or directory in the known world so I defy anyone to track me down.

We do have a landline (is that what you call a fixed telephone line in your apartment?) which came with our package when we moved in. We had a TV/Internet/Telephone Package. (Nothing is in my name.) Now here is a challenge for you esby! See if you can find me!

We got high speed Internet plus 100 odd channels of German TV. But it does include BBC World News and a couple of other useful things in English - and a telephone landline which we have never used.

I have no idea what the telephone number is. I have never given it to anyone. Cate did give it to her brother and he is the only person who has ever called and been answered – by accident.

Now it does ring – every day in fact. In the early days I used to answer it – but people used to speak to me in German so I would say – in English ‘I don’t speak German – can you speak to me in English’ and they would hang up.

So I assumed that they were selling the usual crap that people sell the world over. ‘Hi my name is Gertrude and I have a very special offer for you today Herr… may I ask what your name is…?’

So after a couple of calls I stopped answering the telephone altogether.

I have not answered it now for more than three years.

So each day or night when I get home I see that there has been a call or calls and that a message has been left – because the light is blinking.

I imagine that it has been Gertrude or Traudi or one of her colleagues who has a special offer for me and would like me to call her back.

So I reset the phone until it does not blink – until the next time.

But – I hear you ask – does it not sometimes ring when you are there? Well – it probably does – but I have the ringer set so low that I cannot hear it.

So Cate leaves tomorrow for her voyage of discovery. She will actually be back in Vienna on a couple of occasions – for 4 hours on Saturday so we can have a cup of tea together and she can brush the cats – before she flies to Istanbul and then for about the same amount of time next Wednesday before she flies to Delhi or (shudder) Mumbai.

There are valid reasons for her doing this and I know what they are and they are to do with clothes and flight schedules and tides and phases of the moon, stuff like that.

I am on strict instructions to be on my best behavior. But I am going out on the town on Friday night with my friend Yum Cha.

Molly was supposed to come from Paris to look after me but this has turned into one of those Goat things. More of that tomorrow.

Who are you all?

2011-11-07T23:58:00.003+01:00

Now up until I was given an undeserved and untimely award of ‘Blog of Note’ last April I had about – I think – 70 followers.

This ‘award’ is one of the worst things that has ever happened to me because I now have a full spam box every day of my life.

But it is bad spam. Spam I cannot read. Spam in foreign languages. I can recognise some as being in Thai and some is in Chinese (I am not sure which dialect) but what it says is of course beyond me.

But it comes in avalanches. Some have pictures and I can see that they are trying to get me to come to hotels and restaurants in far flung lands. Someone in a town in Thailand wants me to use his car park – for fuck's sake. I should fly my car there?

There are others without pictures and I assume like most of the others in English that they are trying to make me rich – or bigger my dick. Actually some of them are now using English translators and they say you can grow your dick six inches in six weeks. (It actually said gwow but I know what they meant)

(Now I would like you to stop briefly – look into the distance and see if you can think of anyone you know who would send money to anywhere to buy pills to increase the size of his penis by six inches? Neither can I. But people do it so there must be a market - as evidenced by the amount of mail in my spam box.)

And after this award there was a brief increase in my numbers of followers. This was a real increase of people who found my blog interesting or amusing - or something and signed on and this brought the number up to - I think - about 130. Most of these have since moved on – as people do. Times change.

Now I have attached the statistics showing the number of visitors and page views which is probably consistent with what one would expect. My average visitors each day are now about 80 – sometimes a few more – sometimes a few less. You can see all this by clicking on the thingy on my blog.

What is scary is that my followers creep inexorably ever upwards – for no reason whatsoever. Sometimes I collect three in a week. Often I am the first blog they have ever followed. Often they created their blog within the last few days.

Scarier even still is that the followers – almost without exception – have no reason to follow me. I invite you to look at my most recent follower thenextdarklord. We do not seem to have a lot on common. But then……

My question to you is – What the fuck is going on? There is clearly something that I do not understand here. Is there a game being played where you collect points for following blogs. Are there more points for following Viennese?

Perhaps – as has been hinted by many – including my kindergarten teacher – I am indeed the Antichrist – and the Rapture is at hand.

There is something sincerely scary going on here and I wish to put an end to it. Please help.

As the thenextdarklord says:

Well, then. I am Marielle (I cannot emphasise this enough), and I am a worthless human being. People don't like me, and I have an outstanding ability to not give a damn. Eminem and Morgan Freeman are my spirit animals. THIS is my other blog. And yes, I am the next dark lord. I also think I could be Hannah Montana. Life isn't fair. We part ways now...

Holy shit.

You just cannot hear the music without them

2011-11-07T17:51:00.003+01:00

Jerusalem

You can buy these beautiful sleek fitted covers for MacBook Airs – they fit them like a glove - and I did this when I bought my MacBook Air a while ago.

It was just for travelling because I take a backpack and my MacBook Air is so light and delicate that I worry about it getting damaged.

But one day when we were in a hotel room somewhere and she was going to a meeting Cate said she needed a cover for her notebook computer for the day - so she would take mine. What?

It won’t fit I said (alarmed) – it’s designed specifically to fit mine like a glove.

No it will be OK she said – and I watched in horrified awe – as she proceed to cram her large rectangular computer into the glove-like case designed for my sylph-like slim and gorgeous Mac.

She found it tough going at first and the glove put up a fierce struggle but – like a python engorging a rabbit – after the first two thirds – the last third was a lot easier. I covered my ears to avoid the noise of the stretching and groaning fabric.

At then end of the day she gave the remains back to me.

It is one of those cases that holds its shape remarkably well. Sadly - the shape it holds is the last one it had - so it looks like it last contained two armadillos who fought to the death inside it.

I could now fit three MacBook Airs into it and leave room for a Big Mac and a Lime Slurpee.

So I gave it to her. And I have bought myself a brand new one from Amazon. I have attached a picture of what it looks like. The other one no longer looks like this.

She has that – together with the snazzy leather iPhone case I once had – and any number of iPhone headsets that she uses both for her iPhone and her BlackBerry.

She does things to iPhone and iPod headsets that the Apple engineers would not believe. I have looked closely at her ears – when she is asleep of course – so as to not arouse suspicion – and they look normal – but you would not think so if you see the wrecks of headsets that she presents to me with the plaintive cry – ‘Can I have another one of these please – this is broken!’

Broken hardly describes what she does to headsets. They are jumbles of parts held together by fragments of wire. It’s astonishing.

So I keep many spares handy – particularly when we are travelling – because she needs them for work - and my bitter experience has been that no matter how close you hold your ear to an iPod – and no matter how high you turn up the volume - you cannot hear the music unless you have headphones.

Legs just will not do the job

2011-11-06T20:08:00.003+01:00

Cate is embarking on one of her global expeditions next week – the last for the year – and will be going to Moscow and Istanbul and Mumbai - so has been spending most of the weekend working to prepare for this – although we did manage to squeeze in a bike ride on Sunday morning.

But she also decided that she would like to cook on Saturday night and perhaps on Sunday night and this is a great idea as far as I am concerned because she is a good cook and while we usually go out on Saturday nights I am happy to have her potter about in the kitchen.

I usually do something very simple for Sunday nights – like leftovers from a meal during the week - or soup, so I am happy for her to cook.

The problem is that she makes these decisions very late – say on Friday nights – because she thinks that you can go over to Spar and buy the ingredients you need to cook a meal.

Well you can if you want something very simple – like cheese on toast or a tin of tomato soup.

The second mistake she makes is to leave it until after lunch on Saturday to go shopping.

Vienna is full of little shops they call ‘Supermarkets’. They are just little stores that really have the bare necessities of life. Our Spar for example stocks mainly alcohol, chocolate and rotten vegetables.

I wondered for a long time where Spar could get vegetables that old and I finally figured that they must wait until the Naschmarkt closes and then collect the stuff that the store holders there have thrown away.

It really is amazing. I bought some potatoes there a while ago that were fossilised and should have been in the Museum of Natural History.

However – one of them looked like Jesus so I have it on eBay and am hoping to get enough to fix the tooth I broke on one of their prehistoric Zucchinis.

Yes it’s my fault and I should go down to the markets in Landstrasser Haupstrasse where they have wonderful fresh fruits and vegetables every day but crushed as I am by the burden of my daily chores I do not always get the time.

Indeed I could cycle down to the Naschmarkt – which is a veritable paradise – but there you are.

Anyway – I have warned Cate before about last minute shopping expeditions to Spar but she takes little notice of what I say – indeed few people ever have – so we set off late on Saturday – she with a shopping list and me with a heavy heart because Cate hates shopping - and markets generally – and Spar in particular – and I was preparing myself for the worst.

Which – of course - happened.

Now both dishes were chicken dishes. The chicken refrigerator was bare – well there were a few legs but we wanted breasts – so it then did not really matter that they had no limes, spinach or coriander.

I knew there was no point in asking about breasts – I have trodden that path before – what you see is what you get until the next delivery.

So it was an urgent trip in the car to the much bigger Spar at Simmering where our needs were met – after a fashion. You do what you can and we made some accommodations.

Cate has learned her lesson. If she decides to cook she needs to make a decision on Thursday so that I can do the shopping on Friday.

What type of person would do that?

2011-11-04T10:38:00.002+01:00

Kinderdijk

Over the last couple of days I spent a lot of time downloading and installing OSX Lion which is the new operating system for the iMac and Mac Air and - when you also upgrade your iPhone and iPad to their new operating system - you can use iCloud which stores all your stuff in one place and every time you change anything on anything it gets changed everywhere by something. How cool is that.

It is supposed to be simple and for a normal person using their native language it would be, but as the only store I can use is the Austrian one it always turns out to be one of those goat things and it took me almost two days to get everything working because nothing is ever as it seems and it would almost be worthwhile me paying Mr. esbboston to come over here because I am sure he could do it in a jiffy if I made him one of my special toasted chicken sandwiches with my special Australian bush spices.

In the process I finally realised that I would have to do something about my photo library which is growing like topsy and has many problems – not the least of which is that when I upgraded from iPhoto to Aperture I did not do it effectively and for some time was running two photo libraries concurrently.

This is a problem that will only get worse – we took more than 1,000 photos on our last trip – mainly of windmills – so I have to get rid of the iPhoto library.

At various times I have added photos to both libraries so the only way to make sure that I do not lose any photos is to merge the two libraries and then delete the iPhoto library – after backing it up to an external hard drive – and I can tell you that at the thought of all this taking place the goats are having a barn dance.

So this has occupied me for days because I have about 35,000 photos in each library and first I had to merge them and then I have to run a software program to identify the duplicates and then I have to delete them manually. Yes manually. This will take a month.

In the meantime Sissi is going through a sleepless stage and is leaping and bounding about the bedroom and house at various times throughout the night.

Muffin – before she departed – did not teach her much – but she did teach her to leap – in the dead of the night – from the ledge behind the bed – onto on our almost lifeless forms – so as to wake us with a with a startled shriek. Us not her.

And Monika – who rarely does anything at all – has started dragging around the apartment a piece of cord that came from a cosmetics bag that Cate had – and which the cats now use for a toy. Their only toy.

Of all the things which we have bought them – this is the only one they treasure. We have wasted money on any manner of things – balls, furry mice, scratching poles, lined baskets, rugs, trinkets, knick knacks –whatever. The only thing in which they have evinced a sliver of interest is this scruffy piece of cord – approximately one metre long. They play with it constantly.

So each morning at about 4:00 AM Monika drags this into the bedroom squeaking like a demented bat. She does not meow – she squeaks. For some reason she has never learned to meow.

What can we do. It is her only toy. A piece of frayed cord. What type of person would take a piece of frayed cord from a cat that cannot meow. Her only toy.

If you come to Vienna I will take you

2011-11-01T13:44:00.002+01:00

Friedhof der Namenlosen and my daughter Molly

It’s a public holiday today for All Saints Day – as it is in many countries – and as christians Cate and I are taking a well deserved day off. Well I am – Cate is working – and is not happy about it. Some people just never give her a break.

When I say we are christian – we have a christian view of the world in that we generally wish people no harm (there are a few exceptions), are fond of animals (mainly cats – although Cate always has an apple in her bag in case she sees a horse) and always recycle our bottles.

Now we don’t worship any particular deities but we don’t think that should deny us the benefit of days off - because we have so many other redeeming features. Besides – we believe in so many other things – that should count for something. And we are really good people.

On this particular day the Viennese swarm all over the cemeteries with flowers and candles. A particularly popular spot is the Friedhof der Namenlosen which is a tiny and very obscure cemetery hidden away on the outskirts of Vienna. I have been there many times.

It is not more than about 100 square metres and contains only about (I am guessing – 100 graves) most of which – as the name of the cemetery implies – are of persons unknown. It is a must see if you come to Vienna – but it is not easy to get to. But I will take you.

And here are the photos of the Delft pottery and German crystal. The Delft jar is 27cm tall and the largest candlestick is 31cm tall.

He is probably a very good chef

2011-10-31T12:56:00.003+01:00

Bruges

Our favourite Friday night restaurant is an Italian place in the centre of Vienna and we go there every week when we are at home.

Mario is the host – Tony is the head waiter – it is usually fairly quiet on Friday nights as Mario does a lot of his business with large tourist groups who come during the week.

The food is excellent and the prices are – by Viennese standards – very good value indeed. In terms of value for money it is probably the best restaurant in Vienna 1010.

So it is usually a very quiet night – we never book – we just wander in there and get the very best attention from Mario and Tony.

On Friday night we went with Gwenyth and it was apparent when we arrived that it was not a normal Friday night.

The restaurant was packed and Mario looked unusually tense and harassed. He ushered us to the head table - which was the only free table - marked as reserved - and set for five - and there we sat – unattended – for about 10 minutes while Mario and Tony scampered around the packed restaurant.

Finally we were attended to and Mario said that he had only two reservations for the night – the rest of the seething horde were just walk ins.

Well we finally – and it was a struggle - ordered mineral water and aperitifs - and from there on it was a complete gold-plated, nut-encrusted, cinnamon dusted goat fuck.

We saw from the menu – it had a special insert - that there was a new Chef – Pietro. There was a picture of Pietro on the colour insert – and we saw a lot of him that evening – in fact he was rarely out of our sight.

Pietro spent more time in the restaurant than he did in the kitchen. He seemed to spend a lot of time arguing with Mario.

Mario was very patient and always took him by the elbow or arm - and steered him back to the kitchen. Pietro spent a lot of time shaking his middle finger at Mario. I don’t know what this meant – other than anguish for Mario.

There was also a new waiter – we did not learn his name. He was not very good and Mario spent his spare time – when he was not with Pietro – with the new waiter – either arguing or shouting.

Every couple of minutes Pietro came out of the kitchen and talked to the patrons. Occasionally he came down to the bar and had animated discussions with Mario.

We finally received our entrees and then waited – and waited. After about an hour – on one of his many forays into the restaurant Pietro visited us – banged on our table and asked ‘va bene?’

I answered yes it was indeed going sensationally well and could be improved only by us having our dinner – but I said this to his back as he was already lurching back to his kitchen - stopping only at the bar long enough to down a glass of white wine.

Mario said that Pietro was trying out some new wines to go with his new dishes. If only he would try one of his new dishes on us.

Then the new waiter arrived again – took our bread away and asked us if we wanted Dolce. We said we would like our main course first - and he went off to talk to Mario.

Shortly after this a hot and sweaty Mario visited us – with more bread - and said that our dinner was on its way. He said this with a note of hope in his voice and a glance towards the kitchen.

He paused to pour himself two glasses of wine from the bottle of wine at the table next to ours and downed each of these in one gulp. The wine was behind the table so the patrons did not see their bottle depleted. He was obviously thirsty and in great need.

Shortly after this the new waiter dropped a full tray of wine glasses that he was attempting to insert into the dishwasher and this occupied Mario for some time - during which our dinner arrived – to the sound of broken glass being collected.

My dinner was hot and delicious. Cate and Gwenyth’s dinners were stone cold – but also delicious.

Mario did not charge us for these. Pietro is probably a good chef. I hope it is quieter next week - and that Pietro has finished testing the wines.

Sissi likes Gouda

2011-10-28T19:26:00.002+02:00

Cycling through Holland - Badger at the rear in red

At the moment Sissi’s favourite cheese is Grana Padano. She just loves it and as soon as I start slicing it for my world famous Rucola and Grana Padano salad she goes berserk.

Last night I tried her on Gouda and she loves the aged one which Gwenyth bought. It will be interesting to she if she likes the flavoured ones that Cate and I acquired – particularly the nettle one.

If so this will be a big help as I am finding the mountain of cheese in the kitchen a bit disturbing and may have to hide some in the basement until we can all – Sissi included – make some progress.

One day when we were in Amsterdam we visited Delft by train and naturally we went to the Delft shop to look at the pottery.

We had intended to buy a small piece as a memento but in fact fell in love with a very old, large jar that was made in 1889 - and on which the dog had been broken off the lid - and been stuck back on. You can hardly notice it unless you actually look at the lid.

It was not really very expensive – and will never be worth very much because it has been repaired – but we love the idea that it has already been around for so long and we know when it was made and who painted it. (P.L. Dijkman)

So we bought it and have put it in what we hope will be a Sissi-proof part of the house – but she is a very resourceful cat so who knows.

The Schanigarten vanished while we were away – and this for us always signals the start of winter. Daylight savings ends on Sunday so it is firewood time – or what passes for firewood in this household – and this year I am not risking my ribs so Jules my firewood man is going to have to do all the work himself.

The time before last when we were away Mrs. Moneypenny was also away so we had to rely on Jules to look after the cats.

Well he succeeded to the extent that they did not die - but the apartment was a shambles – he changed the wiring on the TV and stereo and changed all the settings on the air conditioning. There was cat food everywhere and the litter tray had not been emptied properly.

My friend Yum Cha – who also called in when we were away – said that there was evidence that young women (shriek!) were being entertained here. Heavens!

So – unsurprisingly – Jules was more interested in shagging his girlfriend in a penthouse apartment than feeding the cats – so Mrs. Moneypenny gave him a good talking to - and we expect better results in the future. There is no reason he cannot do both – with diligence the cats only take about half an hour a day.

But he is going to have to move a lot of faux-wood to get back into my good books.

It's pronounced Howda

2011-10-26T17:15:00.003+02:00

Kinderdijk - Moving the cap on a mill to catch the wind

Windmills are in a row because each one moves water just a little way - from one canal to the next. So a row of them will move the water from the Polder to a series of canals – each one a little bit higher than the one below it. A Dutch person could explain it better.

We are now back in Vienna. Well – Gwenyth and I are. Cate was back for half an hour but had to go straight to Moscow from Vienna airport and will not be back until Friday night.

We were however very lucky that Cate was with us at the check-in in Amsterdam and did not have to fly direct to Moscow because without her illustrious status on Austrian Airlines we would have had no chance of getting our bags through without excess baggage charges – laden as they were with booty from Bruges and Holland.

We had gone no more than 100 metres from our hotel on the first morning in Bruges when Cate became transfixed by some crystal candlesticks in a shop window.

These were at a price which made her think they must have been made of plastic – accustomed as we are to Viennese extortion – but the owner – who for some reason was wearing what looked like a grey plastic squirrel on his head – demonstrated to us that they were in fact the finest quality German crystal and Cate was so pleased with this she bought three pairs – of varying sizes – each weighing about 10 kilos.

There were a number of less weighty additions to our baggage along the way but in the middle of Holland – temporarily forgetting about the candlesticks – and in a moment of cheese induced insanity – we bought an enormous quantity of Gouda.

Indeed the most delicious Gouda cheese (pronounced Howda) we have ever tasted. Not that we are experts but this had all sorts of flavours including pepper and nettle.

Well we just had to have it and hang the consequences - so we bought about ten kilos.

We realised – getting off the Elodie – that we had a problem – when we could not get our bags up the stairs and had to be rescued by Michel and Sander. I was imagining a scenario where a taxi driver grabbed one of our bags and tore the handle off and threw it into the taxi – leaving the bag sitting on the footpath.

At Schipol we were well over the weight limit for mere mortals but Cate’s status saved us and we now have enough Gouda to last until we vomit at the mere thought of Gouda.

My knees have recovered to the point where I can now walk up and down stairs without crying and my bum is almost back to normal.

The most danger we were in on the whole trip was from bicycles in Amsterdam. They are absolutely lethal for newcomers and are silent and deadly. At night almost none has any lights and they are upon you like a Lion upon a Gazelle. I escaped death by a whisker on more than one occasion.

Now I know why Windmills are in rows

2011-10-23T19:23:00.002+02:00

We straggled into Amsterdam on Saturday afternoon. I would like to tell you that we got better as the week went on - but we were all completely knackered by the time we reached Elodie for the last time.

There were sighs – and some sobs – of relief – as we clattered onto the docks in the centre of Amsterdam to be greeted by our Skipper Michel – and dragged our aching bums up the gangplank. It was not just me who was feeling the strain – almost everyone was doing it tough by the end.

When we had our final dinner together they asked us what the highlight of the tour was, I said for me that it was reaching the Elodie each evening. The last 10 kilometres each day were always the toughest and were always excruciating.

There were no young people on this tour – and I was not the oldest by a long way – so some people had a harder time than I did – but I am sure no one had knees as bad as mine and I did have to take one morning off during the week to give them a bit of a break.

However – it was a sensational trip and we will certainly never see a country more beautiful – or windier – or wetter - than Holland.

I finally discovered what a Polder is and how Windmills really work – and why they are in rows. I sure waited a long time to find that out.

Holland is bird and duck heaven. And I have never seen so many birds in sanctuaries. We took hundreds of photos but many of them were taken in a hurry because if you let the pack get away you could not catch them again without an effort that would damn near kill you.

In answer to the question as to why in October. Well – last year we cycled in Italy in August and nearly died of heat exhaustion. Determined not to repeat this mistake we thought we would go later in the year when it would be cooler.

I did not realise that in Holland at the end of October the conditions would be like they are in Lapland. I mean – in my bag I had sandals and shorts and my swimming trunks! Good grief – what was I thinking?

We survived only by putting on each day all the clothes that we brought with us. I had luckily brought a beanie and gloves which I have never taken off. What I really needed was the gear I am preparing for Norway in January.

Anyway – here we are in Amsterdam – now in a hotel. The hotel is excellent. This time I got the hotel just right – the location however is another matter. But it is only a 20 minute tram ride from the city – or we could hire a bike. Yeh right!

Apparently Holland is beautiful

2011-10-19T20:44:00.002+02:00

Zierikzee Netherlands

There is no Internet at all on the boat. We are staying at a small Dutch port that has WiFi.

For the last four days we have cycled 50 kilometres every day – mostly into fierce headwinds. Apparently the Dutch only have headwinds.

The weather is freezing. Sometimes it rains.

I am told that the Dutch countryside is beautiful but I am solely focused on getting back to the boat before death overtakes me.

I focus on staying on the wheel of the person in front of me. I grit my teeth and knees and pedal like a loon.

I think our tour leader was a former Dutch Olympic cyclist. In the morning she takes off and leaves a trail of gasping cyclists in her wake. She has thighs of steel.

She stops every now and then to enable us to catch up and we flop sobbing in heaps at the side of the road.

After 10 minutes she boots us back onto our bikes and we have to try and keep up with her because without her we are finished – Holland consisting mainly of water and dykes - and the tour leader has the only map.

The food is sensational as we have a real chef who cooks gourmet food. His name is Sander and he is only 26 but has cooked all over the world. I am usually too tired to eat but Cate mashes mine up and feeds it to me.

Cate is taking lots of photos so that when we get back to Vienna I can see where we have been.

No forest of death so far this year

2011-10-13T17:44:00.002+02:00

I am OK without the flap

Tomorrow we start our trip by travelling to Bruges where we spend two days before boarding the Elodie on Sunday.

As usual I have been left in charge of booking the hotels but this time – at least in Bruges – I can blame the Bicycle Tour people because I am just using the hotel they recommended. What could go wrong with that?

Well I make my usual disclaimer about blogging. It will be my intention to blog – but things happen. Last time on our bike and boat trip in Italy we were supposed to have an internet connection in every port – but rarely did – and Captain Pugwash showed no interest whatsoever in our desire to contact the outside world. We shall see. We are in the middle of Europe so it should not be too difficult. Yeh right!

Elodie

Now none of us has done any training whatsoever for this and the last time Cate and I had a bike ride in Vienna was about two months ago - so the first two days could be a bit tough – but we have our padded bike seats with us and will take Vegemite for breakfast - and to rub on sore muscles.

I have been trying to teach Monika how to use the cat door. This is necessary now that the colder weather has arrived because I sometimes have to keep the flap on the door. It will not be too long before I have to take the door off altogether and keep the terrace doors closed.

Anyway, Monika cannot use the cat door so I usually leave the flap off. If the flap is on she will watch Sissi come and go through the flap but simply cannot get the hang of it. I am not blaming her. Muffin was 19 years old and could never use a cat door. And Muffin was intellectually gifted. Sort of.

But I have to put the cat flap on while we are away in case of inclement weather - which means that if the weather is sunny Monika will be stuck inside. There are plenty of sunny spots in the apartment but she likes to lie on the table on the terrace.

But the lessons have been a complete failure. So if anyone has any bright ideas please let me know. (She won’t watch YouTube). Her problem is that – because of her background – she is very timid and is not willing to push the flap hard enough to get it moving.

Which reminds me – I have to wrap up the terrace plants as soon as I get back. When I bought them the man at Dehner said they would grow like Topsy all Spring and Summer and then would need to have their roots wrapped up for winter.

Well they grew not at all until about a month ago when they suddenly shot up about 20 cm – so now I have to wrap them in blankets until the end of winter.

I can deal with that. By this time of the year I am normally looking at a forest of death on the terrace. I now have two bright and healthy things (I have forgotten what they are called) looking just wonderful. And – miraculously – Sissi has not nested in either of them since they arrived.

Wrap them in blankets? I will give them hot water bottles each night if it will get them through winter and I don’t have to go through a re-potting experience next spring.

The Vegemite has arrived

2011-10-13T00:21:00.002+02:00

Felix and Sven

Well Gwenyth arrived – but without her bags. Of course this caused a major panic because she was carrying supplies of Vegemite and Jameson.

But all is well because the bags arrived later in the afternoon and we are now well stocked up with Vegemite for the next year and have at least enough Jameson for Christmas and Norway.

Tonight we went to our new favourite restaurant which is Artner and we have been there a number of times recently. We get these fetishes about restaurants and Artner is the recipient of the latest fetish.

But – without doubt - the best restaurant in Vienna is Ein Wiener Salon. We have always loved it but we rarely go there because it is a smoking restaurant.

We were walking back from our usual Friday night dining place - Al Borgo and on the spur of the moment - as we were walking past Ein Weiner Salon - and it looked so good – and we had such good memories - we thought we would brave the smoke for one time.

I went in and asked Felix if he had a table for the Saturday night and he hesitated - and then asked his partner Sven - but we got in. There was a problem because a waiter was sick.

(Sven and Felix are gay. Sven is the Chef. Felix is the waiter and sous-chef. Both of them smoked.)

It was – as usual – sensational. I was particularly bold and told Felix that the reason we did not come more often was that we were both allergic to smoke.

He did not react so I got nervous and apologised and said that I did not mean to offend.

Felix then said that he and Sven had got married a few months ago and that Sven had given up smoking – and that Felix had not – so that the whole business had turned into a Goat Thing and that now Sven had turned into the non-smoker from Hell.

Sounds like us.

I will nail it before we leave

2011-10-11T15:22:00.003+02:00

Bagni di Lucca Italy 2010

I recently had a whole raft of blood tests – which I do every now and again – to make sure that there is nothing going drastically wrong with me – other than the migraine thing about which there is not much that I can do.

I had some stuff that worked for a while but now doesn’t so we are basically back where we started which is where we usually finish up. But it is where I expect to be because I really gave up on my migraines a long time ago and am convinced that there is nothing that can be done about them so I just have to bloody well get on with it.

I have spoken to many people whose migraines just disappear. I hope to be one of these. I have put my name down.

So I got a blood test order thing from Dr. Mordor in August but one thing led to another and then we had to go to Washington and Ireland and I got colds and things but last week I had the tests and a few days ago I trotted along to Dr. Mordor with the results.

He gave them a cursory glance and said that they were all good and that there was nothing to worry about and that it was very rare for him to see someone my age who did not have any problems with eating too much or drinking too much or with high cholesterol or something and he booted me out of his surgery with the usual farewell.

Well he barely looked at them.

Now I am worrying that he has been reading my blog and that the results are actually awful and that I am on the way out and that he is punishing me for saying uncomplimentary things about him just because he never examines me. Well he does – after a fashion – but never from closer than five metres.

So I have these results – and I have looked at them and they mean nothing to me and I could try and find another doctor – but I have been trying to do that for three years without success – and I am not sure what to do.

So to take my mind off this I have started examining the Bruges to Amsterdam cycling plan to try to find the flaws in it. This trip starts on Friday and Gwenyth arrives from Australia on Wednesday.

She was nearly off to a very bad start because up until Sunday she was very confused and thought she was going to Norway.

This is understandable because for the last six weeks she has been doing a community project – working with Aboriginal communities in far North Queensland – and has had no contact with the outside world – so rushed back to Sydney and had a nearly disastrous brain scramble.

Fortunately she realised just before stuffing her suitcase full of winter clothes that she was going cycling – not trudging though ice and snow.

I know there is a fatal flaw in the trip – it’s just that I have not found it yet. My analysis will be detailed and forensic. I will nail it before we leave.

I will be taking the full five fifths - plus some extra

2011-10-06T20:45:00.001+02:00

Badger near death in Lapland

The redoubtable esbboston has suggested that one should take at least a fifth of one’s favourite alcoholic beverage to ease the pain of freezing to death in an icy cold environment.

As one who has damn near done that – and now knows what it would feel like – I can assure esb that I will be taking a lot more than a fifth with me – it will be more like five fifths – and I will have a hip flask of Jameson wherever I go.

And as I have said before, I have been studying assiduously the survival skills of Bear Grylls and now know how to cut open and gut a reindeer to crawl inside it to keep warm, how to make a fire by rubbing two antlers over a pile of dried peat, how to outrun a polar bear – well you can’t actually outrun a Polar bear - you have to be able to run faster than the people you are with - and I have been training hard every day - stuff like that.

The harder thing on this occasion will be to survive the prices in Norway which everybody says – and from what I can see so far have no doubt is true – is the most expensive country on the planet.

This is another reason to take alcohol – particularly on the boat. The boat people have taken the trouble to publish the prices they charge for drinks – I imagine so that they prevent people from going into a catatonic state and needing medical treatment when they get their first bar bill.

You can get a glass of wine from £7.70 ($12) or a bottle of wine from £37 ($57). A glass of beer on the other hand is a snip at £6.60 ($10).

At those prices I am guessing there will not be any chance of us getting drunk and falling overboard.