Parklife

I have no voice today from singing along to Blur in the park yesterday. D saw them at Glastonbury and said they rocked so I snapped up my friend Danny's spare ticket and they were fantastic. As well as a sore throat, I've acquired some mystery house guests who we got talking to on the long trudge out of the park and who seemed to have made no preparations for getting home (well why would you, when you only live in Berlin). They asked us why it is that when you get so many English people together in one place and give them some sunshine and beer, they rip their shirts off, turn lobster red and chuck bottles at each other...and do you know, we didn't have an answer for them. They're right though, a fair section of the crowd was composed of drunken fuckwits, most of them in at least their late twenties, some with mortgages, children and jobs in banks, I shouldn't wonder. Still, I suppose they'll come in handy if we ever feel the need to flatten Dresden again.

The mystery Germans are making a ridiculously complicated brunch, involving pancakes, baked peaches and banana and strawberry smoothies. D's hanging round the kitchen watching them with a hangdog expression and I just know at some point today is going to feature the phrase, "You never make brunch like that." I quite fancy visiting Berlin, I must pop into the kitchen and write their names down.

Woo hoo