We are nearly arriving simultaneously at the Green Man, a pub just off Harbourne High Street. I haven't eaten yet, hence I decide to immerse myself into the depth of some quality fast food. In this particular case it's just a Kebab shop entitled King's. With high expectations, and Matti probably still thinking about an opportunity/suitable venue to watch Villa - ManU, we are entering. The Indian looking guy doesn't seem to be interested in serving us at all. Anyway, we've only been waiting for 5 minutes or so and I can place my burger order and make my £2.50 contribution to the income of the suffering English working class.
While wrongly believing to wait for my burger we are talking about bits and bobs and sometimes catching a phrase that the two weird girls at the neighbouring table mutter. The Indian guy seems to be very uninterested indeed. When I finally get too impatient, I'm confronting him with my outstanding-burger issue. In naive surprise and bad English he is pretending that he didn't even f*** know that I've ordered a f*** burger!
His mother (presumably), who has taken the order, tells him off eventually and throws a tiny 'Oh, sorry.' amongst the filthy pseudo decoration of the room's interior. Now, I hastily down the burger with two many onions on it; apart from that it's fine - that means it does not differ significantly from other English burgers that you get in fast food shops around here.
Quite keen on leaving that rotten cave I'm trying to show good will and am trying to dispose my litter in the provided rubbish bin - only to discover that, once I open the lid, it is overflowing, I pile the plastic container on top of it and nobody seems to be bothered.
We escape into a pub and order Ale with the rather unfortunate name 'Pedigree'. Yeah, tis 'arite' tho! I also do realise that there is quite a happy bunch of joyful talking seniors around who, I'm just guessing from the left-overs, have just finished a delightful buffet. Later we get offered sausages and chips which we happily accept. The chips are cold and soaked with vinegar, that's 'arite', too, I guess. However, and you wouldn't believe me, the sausages were vegetarian-choice sausages! We only asked for two, I gulped down one in disgust, and strangely enough another old man is coming by later and asking us if we didn't want to eat the remaining one - upon our polite denial he is proudly announcing 'Oh, I know a fat greedy bastard who will have it!', and off he goes with the last sausage of that very night.
In this manner, everybody got fed - the elderly and the young - and anybody had to throw away anything, hehe. Matti's bought the first round, so I'm getting the second one - yes, I do support that English habit of doing rounds.
I'm not sure who of us has noticed that 30 year old woman earlier, it might have been Matti, it might have been me. I haven't paid her much attention anyway, even though she was dressed in a rather offensive way, but that again wouldn't be a good enough reason to get bewildered - it's just the way that English girls dress (or rather trying to cover) when they go out. No, she was in the company of four men. Anyway, all of a sudden she is inviting us over to their table. We accept and make the acquaintance with every single one of them. They introduce themselves as 'social workers' and colleagues of each other.
After a bit of chit chat (the English do most of the talking anyway) and them being in a very good mood already, the bar keeper is announcing that she wants everybody out of the pub by midnight.
The 30-year old, who has introduced herself as Tina, is looking for her phone ("Are you getting out your brick, are you?") and is asking one of her colleagues to pass her a pen. Then she is casually handing over a slip of paper, first trying to give it to Matti, then giving it to me. "You are such a sl**!", says one of her colleagues with her protesting straight away, "No! I'm not a sl**, I'm a good girl, you know that, don't you?" In response to that the man wouldn't stop laughing for about 5 minutes - hmm, that was weird in the end...
Now, when Matti and I are finally on our way back home we were snorting with laughter and reciting Tina and her boy group! What a legendary night to remember in the life of two Erasmus students! Here is the evidence for the validity of my story:
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| Feel free to call :D |
The next day I send Matti a text saying "Call me baby! Tina Wild" upon which Matti gets back to with "maybe later... i'm still busy! gruß dirk dickler", and once again I couldn't help myself, but smile ;)
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