Missing a Day

Somehow, missing a day in the blog has become a “thing”. As I was getting ready for bed yesterday evening, it occurred to me that I hadn’t posted anything. I quickly reasoned that it was far too late, and I was far too tired. The truth was more along the lines of I couldn’t be bothered, and I didn’t have much of a story to tell. The lack of a story hasn’t really changed today either.

Apart from doing the usual headbanging routine at work, watching movies with Miss 18, or going out for pizza with the local under-15s rugby team, it’s been a remarkably quiet week. I should really be thankful, because next week will be very different – I’m returning to Germany once again.

I fly mid-morning on Monday, which means a fairly early taxi to the airport. Frankfurt will once again be full of people for some exhibition or other, so I’m staying in a very basic hotel right in the middle of the city. I’m looking forward to being a little more central this time – listening to the people of the city late at night, and waking to the sounds of delivery trucks in the mornings.

I like cities. I always have. Even though I grew up in a small town in the countryside, there’s just something about visiting a bustling metropolis. Of course “visiting” is the key word – if I lived among the concrete avenues, and had to deal with the traffic, people, noise, and pollution day-in, day-out, I might think differently.

Traveling means packing bags. I’m studiously trying to ignore the thought of ironing a suitcase full of work clothes. I’ll worry about it on Sunday evening. My clothes are all washed – just none of them are ironed. I’m quite good at ironing (which sounds like a ridiculous thing to say), but also find it interminably boring. Oh – and I must remember to check the weather forecast before packing – I’ve still not forgotten the week I arrived with a suitcase full of clothes for bracing weather, and and got off the plane to discover Germany had transformed into a sub-Saharan enclave for the week. Not fun.

Anyway. It’s getting late. I suppose I should really go brush my teeth, grab my book, and climb the wooden hill. I wonder what I might dream about tonight? I wonder if I’ll remember it in the morning ?

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