To Err is Human, to Arr is Pirate!

AMANTIUM IRAE

  When this, our rose, is faded,
    And these, our days, are done,
  In lands profoundly shaded
    From tempest and from sun:
  Ah, once more come together,
    Shall we forgive the past,
  And safe from worldly weather
    Possess our souls at last?

  Or in our place of shadows
    Shall still we stretch an hand
  To green, remembered meadows,
    Of that old pleasant land?
  And vainly there foregathered,
    Shall we regret the sun?
  The rose of love, ungathered?
    The bay, we have not won?

  Ah, child! the world's dark marges
    May lead to Nevermore,
  The stately funeral barges
    Sail for an unknown shore,
  And love we vow to-morrow,
    And pride we serve to-day:
  What if they both should borrow
    Sad hues of yesterday?

  Our pride! Ah, should we miss it,
    Or will it serve at last?
  Our anger, if we kiss it,
    Is like a sorrow past.
  While roses deck the garden,
    While yet the sun is high,
  Doff sorry pride for pardon,
    Or ever love go by.

                      Ernest Dowson

The Taste of Stale Beer

Now, I said I'd be back, and I was right. England, and all there is left are faint hints that remind me of things there were. Memories and ghosts.
I have to remind myself, because I'm looking for an escape route into the past. There ain't one. There'll never be one. So, what is it that remains? There are tokens that call forward long-forgotten details from the dense fog of a vast nowhere land. Places, people, familiar situations - and in a way it's me overlooking all of it, and I have succeeded with my attempt to travel back in time. Only this time it's second hand. Stale beer if I had to put it into words.

"History isn't the lie of the victors [...]. It's more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious nor defeated. (Julian Barnes in The Sense of an Ending)"

So here is what it breaks down to:
Thursday 16/02/2012. I'm on my flight to Brum. Everything seems so familiar when I arrive and I feel a shiver when I see that nothing's really changed as if life here had stopped the moment I left. But people - strangely - don't stare at me. For them I'm just an ordinary passenger on an ordinary train on an ordinary day. Then I walk through the neighbourhood where I used to live. Someone told me that the English are predominantly pragmatic - I'm not sure whether this is true, but it could be a reason why all houses look the same - give or take.
I'm staying at one of my friend's, just to find out that it could have been yesterday or, confusingly, ages ago since we last met. Of course he has moved on with his life, and so have I. We talk and remind ourselves of that common ground of memories that we share. I have forgotten a few things already. On the same night I meet two other friends of mine who are still studying at university. It is nice to see them, and that's all there is to say. Just as ordinary as the journey on the train - is it not?

Naked tree near bus stop, Moseley, Birmingham

Friday 17/02/2012. I'm going out tonight - I'm trying to force that feeling back that I had when I partied with my 'Erasmus year'. Doesn't work - I get drunk instead.


Saturday 18/02/2012. I meet one of friends and we catch up on life. It is epic. One of these persons who you can talk to after months and you still feel close. I also watch a rugby match that day and meet two Irish guys who were in my 'tag tournament' team - reunion day!

Moseley vs Bedford scrum

Sunday 19/02/2012. Today is the time to travel onwards to Cambridge where one of my English friend lives who I have known the longest. I actually mentioned Laurence in one of my earlier posts - we have a nice cuppa along with a round of scrabble which Laurence wins, I come second, Charlotte third. We treat ourselves to a nice dinner at an Italian restaurant and head on to a local pub with a pub quiz on. I'm super excited and really eager to play. The stake's one quid per person and most teams have a minimum amount of four players, so I don't really expect to win, especially since I'm not a native, but I surely don't expect to finish last! Well, the wooden spoon goes to .... Joe's team! (Laurence has the wise foresight to name our team after me :/). We are well-served by that result.

Monday 20/02/2012. Today I arrive at Pascal's where Max has already stayed since a couple of days. We get cracking on things we are planning to do and on top of my list there is punting on the Cam. I can hardly believe that I have never managed to do this during all my years in England since 2006. Well, today is the day and I'm excited - maybe a little too much. What at first sight looks if I'd never done anything else but punting...

Captain Jo

... soon grounds me on the hard soil of the river bank:

Soaking wet idiot being dragged out of the Cam by nice English gentleman in the background

Well well, it wasn't too cold (even though Pascal and Max still don't believe me) and I've learned yet another lesson (which is: better let the pole go before you fall off the boat^^).

Welcome back to Germany

Germans are cold and distant? - True.
The English are cold and distant, too? - Maybe so.
Worth kicking up a fuss about it? - No.
Can you feel a big, fat BUT peeking around the corner? - Yes.

There are a few people on this planet who don't interest me, and even fewer people who I don't like. Would you call it deceptive if I hid my attitude towards them? I don't think so. Call it a social convention or whatever, but there must always be some time for some small talk. This sounds like common sense, but mind you, it is not. In England at least, a basic level of politeness has luckily become a convention, and people don't feel smacked straight in their mouths if the only person in a pub to talk to is your most despised enemy alive. He will talk to you - and, yes why not, the weather can be worth talking about.

I don't really know if it is Germany or me, but I personally think that it is childish to be rude. Maybe you act superficially, but at the same time you are also diplomatic. As it says in the Prayer for the Stressed: "Help me to be careful of the toes I step on today, as they may be connected to the feet I may have to kiss tomorrow."

Well, if you are still not sure whether ignoring a person or taking the hassle of being polite (and talk) to a person is the right desicion, think about these remote possibilities:

First, if it turns out that the basis of presupposed hostility stems from a mere misunderstanding and you end up liking that person, you win.
Second, if it turns out that person manifests your initial impression and your hatred deepens significantly, you are once again reminded that you should better be cautious. ["Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer" (The Godfather, Part II).]
Third, in my opinion an individual's self-perception depends on the social network rank that one mans. So even if you engage in some small talk without ultimate passion, you've done something good (even if this self-perception boost is only of a virtual nature). Why should you not try and give someone a nice feeling?

So hey, why being so arrogant, thought- and careless, you bloody Germans? You afraid of wasting your time or missing out on something? This is a win-win situation!

Cobham Hall

I once again worked for Bell in July 2011. This time, however, I signed up for a post within the BLAP department (Young Learners). Bell rent boarding schools in England for the summer months each year. One of the sites is Cobham Hall. I don't want to waffle about my job in particular even though there would be so much to talk about, but rather focus on the magnificent 16th century mansion and its surrounding gardens!

With my experience at Cobham Hall I brought my second England adventure to a successful and nice end! I can't tell when I'll be back on this island, but I'll be back :)

Mosely Rugby 10 May - 23rd June

Matti and I entered a tournament for social taggers, seven-a-side. It was organised by www.moseleyrugby.co.uk. We had four group games, and two knock out matches at the end. We finished third out of eight.

Rachel, me, Matti, Mark, Kieran, Adam, Graeme, Laura, Ali

Most folk playing are members of staff at the University of Birmingham. A funny thing was that we played a few ruggers from my RFC (http://www.pitchero.com/clubs/dixonians/) in the semi finals, the only team that beat us in the whole tournament...

Well, the following week we arrived before time to the small final (3rd place), so your captain (Kieran) decided to go for a drink first - fair enough. In the end it worked out perfectly well and we gave them a proper trashing, haha!

All good things must come to an end, and what remains is a great memory of my rugby season in England. A huge thank you to all players I have trained, lost, won and partied with!!

London calling to the faraway towns; A nuclear error, but I have no fear; London is drowning-and I live by the river

I hop on the train to London. Again. Please click on London Calling for further information. I haven't been to Manchester yet, neither have I been to Liverpool. I really want to visit Jonny and Alessia, and don't care about sightseeing. When I get to London Jonny meets me in front of the Dominion theatre.

Dominon Theatre at Tottenham Court Road

We are having some Mexican food and once again I realise that people in London are – to some extent - displaced people. They don't belong and this is what I find slightly scary about this huge place.

It is 4pm and we accommodate ourselves in a nice pub that has Austrian style beer on tap. It has been one and a half years since Jonny and I last saw each other, but it does not feel that long. I then arrange to meet with Alessia at a pub called 'Barrel Boy and Banker' near London Bridge. This is us in front of it:

Jonny, Alan, Alessia, me (right to left)

The next day, I soak up the atmosphere of Camden Town Market and spend the last few hours wandering among stands, tourists and other weird folk. Great mini holidays. Thank you big, smelly and mysterious London.

Gelert

 

Llewellyn And His Dog
by Hon. W. R. Spencer

The spearman heard the bugle sound, And cheerily smiled the morn; And many a brach, and many a hound,

Obeyed Llewellyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast, And gave a louder cheer: "Come, Gelert, come, why are thou last Llewellyn's horn to hear!

"Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam? The flower of all his race! So true, so brave -- a lamb at home,

A lion in the chase!"

'Twas only at Llewellyn's board The faithful Gelert fed; He watched, he served, he cheered his lord,

And sentinel'd his bed.

In sooth he was a peerless hound, The gift of Royal John - But now no Gelert could be found,

And all the chase rode on.

And now as over rocks and dells The gallant chidings rise, All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells

With many mingled cries.

That day Llewellyn little loved The chase of hart or hare; And scant and small the booty proved,

For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased Llewellyn homeward hied, When, near the portal-seat, His truant, Gelert, he espied,

Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gained the castle-door, Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound all o'er was smeared with gore --

His lips, his fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with fierce surprise, Unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise,

And crouched and licked his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn passed -- And on went Gelert too -- And still, where'er his eyes were cast,

Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!

O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The bloodstained covert rent, And all around, the walls and ground,

With recent blood besprent.

He called his child -- no voice replied; He searched -- with terror wild; Blood! blood! he found on every side,

But nowhere found the child!

"Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured!" The frantic father cried; And, to the hilt,

his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side!

His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gelert's dying yell, Passed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh: What words the parent's joy can tell,

To hear his infant cry?

Concealed beneath a tumbled heap, His hurried search had missed, All glowing from his rosy sleep

The cherub-boy he kissed.

Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread -- But the same couch beneath Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and

dead -- Tremendous still in death!

Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain, For now the truth was clear;

The gallant hound the wolf had slain, To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe; "Best of thy kind, adieu! The frantic deed which laid thee low This heart shall ever rue!"

And now a gallant tomb they raise, With costly sculpture decked; And marbles, storied with his praise, Poor Gelert's bones protect.

Here never could the spearman pass, Or forester, unmoved; Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewellyn's sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear, And there, as evening fell, In fancy's ear he oft would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell.