I left Berlin only yesterday morining but it already feels like another life. My flatmate Jens followed me down the stairs and out onto the street with a speaker blaring strangely sad, emotional techno music. After a year in Berlin hardcore monotonous techno speaks to your soul.
At the airport the tricksters at EasyJet (more like StressfulJet) informed me my two checked in bags were supposed to weigh 10 kilos not 20. The hostess boarding guy then patronisingly talked me through numerous diagrams of stick people holding bags weighing ONLY 10 KG. I couldn’t face leaving any clothing behind so I abandoned text books, chargers, toiletries, bedding, and pretty much everything practical I ever owned. I tried to spread them out so it wouldn’t cause a bomb scare, but then it started to look disconcertingly like my bedroom floor so I reshaped them.
I then proceeded to do the classic donning everything you own, no joke going through security I was wearing my gold sparkly disco jacket, woolly blue cardigan, structured orange blazer, (Paddy’s) grey cashmere jumper and my brown leather jacket. I was so fat and hot.
On our first evening in Edinburgh Alice Graham the medic and beautiful face/ forehead of Sunday’s Child welcomed us into her home, provided us with copious cups of tea and told us about her summer job cutting up dead bodies (the dried blood looks like pate apparently). Hildegard Ryan worked her perfectionist magic on the website (whipcracker in Fitflops is Hild), and Robert Newmark Jones spent the evening trying to typex a Hobnob smudge from a grant application form, gave up and went jogging. I slept on a couch that was too short even for me, and dreamt that I was trapped in Germany.
This morning I am line learing in Bean Scene cafe and getting all jittery inside. Being in Edinburgh makes me giddy. The air smells like Fringe and freedom, and I can almost taste the mayhem that lies ahead. We are still semi homelss. Never a dull moment.