198… travelling, travelling, travelling…
When their coach finally got to the hotel, it was dark. So Ma and Pa hadn’t really taken in the neighbourhood.
After breakfast then, Pa had gone to the Reception desk to ask for directions to the Pyramids. The receptionist had looked a little confused, so in the time honoured manner of the English abroad, Pa’d asked again but louder. The receptionist silently pointed at the hotel’s entrance lobby, through which Pa could see, on the opposite side of the road, the foot of a bloody great pyramid.
Now the one thing I knew about Cologne – or Kõln as we are now calling it, having gone native – was that it had something of a cathedral. As we left the station, I was scanning Googlemaps attempting to work out how to get to said cathedral, and in so doing I nearly bumped into this, secreted on the station forecourt.
It is, the guide on the sightseeing bus told us this afternoon, the biggest cathedral in …. or it might have been church in… actually, the sun may have got to me at that point. But there’s no denying it is big.
It was initially built to house the relics of the three Kings (honestly) which the Holy Roman Emporer of those time had filched from Milan. It was started in 11something then in 14 something the builders nipped off to another job, leaving their crane in place. Four hundred years later, someone twigged that the builders probably weren’t coming back. So they got another lot in, who finished the job in forty years.
There’s a golden shrine inside containing the Magi’s relic but to me, it was the afternoon sun through the windows which won the day.
I’d imagined that, with such a gorgeous building at its centre, Kõln would be a beautiful city. But actually, a great deal of it reminded me of Coventry and, it turns out, for the same reason. Far from its original function, the cathedral acted as a landmark to the bombers: in fact, we were told, was intentionally left intact for that purpose. So the cathedral escaped with some broken windows but 70% of Kõln was flattened. There are some attractive pockets – a small terrace of C18th merchants’ houses, sections of medieval wall, some restored churches – but these are amid lots of functional postwar buildings whipped up, as in Coventry, to provide quick housing. And a fairly ghastly ring road overpassing and under passing around the city centre. I’d love to have seen how it looked before.
Our guide pointed out many, many museums and galleries including one museum dedicated to mustard and another to – though not, alas, from – chocolate. Anyway, it would have melted today.
Our Airbnb is a handful of stops out from the centre and is in a pleasant area. Lots of cafes and flowers shops. Tomorrow we set off early to become RhineMaydons, heading for Heidleburg.
Other things I have learnt today:
– I obviously look much more decrepit than I feel, as people fall over themselves to offer me a hand lugging my case around. Or perhaps people are just really nice here. Next time, we’ll pack much less stuff. Just the one ball gown.
– Kõln Zoo has five baby elephants. Allegedly. All we could see from the top of our bus were cows.
– our hosts: a young couple – he a Tunisian dentist, she in IT – had never before made tea. This didn’t stop them offering it, what with us being English- I told you that the people were helpful – and twenty minutes later appeared with a coffee mug of peppermint tea and a cup of icing sugar. Bless.
191. The Secret Agent
Are you sure we can’t be overheard?
I shouldn’t really be telling you this: don’t breathe a word – not even if Tom Hiddleston tempts you to swap confidences with promises of a ride on his motorbike. I will deny all knowledge, if challenged. I’m taking lessons from Boris on denial and will do so at bumbling length and in Latin.
176. But oh, those Nordic Nights …
“Who’s he? Have we seen him before?”
“He’s married to the woman who posts the blog.”
“The vlog. We’ve established it’s a vlog.”
“Yes her. With the blond hair.”
“OK. Can you pause it a minute? OK. Tak.”
Put aside quilt. Dash into bedroom and return with reel of thread. Install self back on sofa and start to thread needle.
“OK?” says ActorLaddie. “Say when.”
“Nu. Tak… Hang on – who’s he? Is that the Russian Roulette guy?”
172. A thought
I was talking with friends about how interesting life is at the moment. I did think that I’d be teaching full time until gone sixty.
171 Everything’s coming up Roses…
And what season is it? asks Julia.
The painting is called ‘The Last Day in the Old Home’. Through the window on its left, we can see leaves turning golden and brown and branches starting to bare. It’s Autumn. The answer’s Autumn. Pick me, Miss. Fifty years ago, I’d have stuck up my hand.
140. And freedom tastes of reality…
Way back when, I was sent on a Management course. Most of what we were told has long since been pushed out of my head by other stuff. But one of the activities has stuck with me: the Lego House competition.
136. To absent friends…
She walked into the Staffing Department, looking very tanned and very relaxed. A bit desiccated perhaps – sun and cigs, I’d guess – but definitely at ease. As she made her way over to my desk, it seemed that the whole office went quiet in her wake. Out the corner of my eye, I could see a little murmuring and some scribbling but when Mrs Marbella opened her mouth, it was obvious that the entire office had tuned in.
135. A brief encore…
I’ve outlined the activities once, and then again. A child has successfully re-explained them to the seething masses and there does seem to be a more than equal chance that at least some of the class will know what to do. Though with Reception, of course, anything might happen in the next half-hour.
“Right,” I say. “Go back to your constituencies and prepare for government.” And up they get and off they toddle despite the fact that they have a fairly limited working knowledge of the 1981 Liberal Party Conference.
131. Time to stare…
“However you organise the room to start with, you’ll want to change it the minute the kids arrive. At least, that’s how it was for me. It took me half a term before I had things organised the way I should have had them in September.”
I am still grateful to Simon. Unasked for, he helped me sort out my first‑ever classroom, including a lesson in the putting up of backing paper. I chose to cover all my boards in a ghastly, beige-y, custardy, blah sort of colour, I seem to remember. A good back-drop for all that free, independent writing my class would be itching to produce, was the theory. Titter ye not.
126. Nervous? Yes. First time? No, I’ve been nervous lots of times…
To begin at the end.
We landed at Stansted in the early hours and finally tottered through our front door at about two thirty this morning.
I’m a very poor flier, as you know, and was in a horrible panic all the way out to Naples, despite my valiant attempts to ‘man up’. Coming home was much better, partly due to the application of a large glass of red wine just before embarkation, but mostly because, by keeping my eyes fixed on a book, I managed to fool myself into believing that I was actually on a train.


