March 17th, from a distance…..

Blogs, vlogs and podcasts are full of “This time last year. . . .” Another meme that pops up regularly is “How it started” vs “How it’s going”. Obviously we have to be informed and reminded of things that began changing people’s lives roughly a year ago.

Don’t we all know only too well about this time last year, how it started and how it’s going? We all know there was too much coffee, too many biscuits, too many nibbles, too much cake. I won’t even mention the beers, wines and whiskeys. We also know there were not enough work-outs, too few bike-rides, too little exercise. After all these months, weeks and days we certainly we don’t want to constantly watch the scales to check how much weight we gained.

In the few happy months that i managed to safely spend in that remote sanctuary that i call my most likeable place, i stuffed myself with ‘stuff’, all kinds of stuff, healthy and unhealthy. After nibbling away from a big bowl of pretzels, it seemed fun to keep a few hearty ones for this year’s Saint Patrick’s Day. I don’t know if they’d still be edible, but i may have them tonight , as there is no other knick-knackery to be found here. The jars are empty and -on another note- i don’t like scales dictating my life.

p.s. Have a happy St.Patrick’s Day and if you want : Eat your heart out !

knife over boards….

….overboard

goodday….

….to all you smokers and non-smokers alike

wherever….

….you’re supposed not to go

spot….

….vogel

there is always….

….an empty chair

homesick is…

homesick is

– hearing the wind in the wrong trees

– listening to the wrong birds

– seeing catkins in the wrong willows

– finding letters in the wrong mailbox

– driving on the wrong side of the road

– watching the sunset from the wrong window

– being in the wrong place altogether

–

–

–

….missing

there’s always….

….an empty chair

Kopenhagen, 14-03-2020

…….It was a cool and sunny Saturday morning in Copenhagen.

The evening before  -and no, we are not superstitious and we don’t believe in Friday 13th nonsense-  one of the staff at the hotel had told us it was the last dinner she’d be serving: she had been laid off the following day, along with hundreds other staff members.

In the morning there was no breakfast buffet.  Sure, there was food. A tray with plastic-wrapped sandwiches, no choice and not to be touched with our own hands.  There were yoghurts in small diposable bowls with disposable spoons. There was coffee and tea, but we were not allowed to pour it ourselves.  Orange juice in a plastic cup was put on our table by blue-gloved hands and we were kindly requested to ask for anything if we needed more.

Compared to the day before, there were only a few guests in the breakfast room. The cook at the open kitchen counter looked pleadingly in our direction, hoping anybody would want some hot food, a fried egg or maybe some bacon or a sausage. The atmosphere of insecurity and uncertainty seemed to outweigh his wishful thinking .

When about to leave for a walk, we were offered an orange or a banana, just in case we wanted to bring it with us. We felt like declining, but politely took an orange because of the kind gesture and secondly because bananas not being favourite fruits.

We pottered about the Latin Quarter, strolled along the boardwalk, admired and listened to The Wave and walked around the Kastellet where the oranges were eaten on a bench in the sun.

Around lunchtime when trying to find a place for coffee, we experienced that something insidious and malicious had taken hold of the city…….

here’s to the boy….

the boy that went the wrong way,

the boy that missed so many chances,

the boy who squandered his life,

the boy who was out of sight for half a century,

the boy who is out of sight for evermore,

 

….the boy who was my lil’bro