On Wednesday, the internet cable was cut. Literally cut. Janita was reporting from mobile data like a war correspondent, while somewhere else a washing machine was being defended like national territory, and in Scotland a man was checking whether his tail was still attached. It was that kind of week. Mr Mayor began by asking…
Or: Wi-Fi, Excavators, Egg-Topped Burgers, and the Art of Not Losing Your Mind “Are we live, Fruitloop?”“We are live.” And like all responsible spiritual leaders, The Mayor immediately escalates. “Raise your hands. Middle finger and thumb together. Close your eyes. No cheating. Repeat after me. Episode 36. I will give the mayor grief.” Thus begins…
Good evening began with a tiny identity crisis. “Hi, Janita.”“Good evening, Natalie. Whoops.”And then, like a curtain lifting on a familiar stage: “Hello, Mr. Mayor.” It had that Lunch feeling instantly—warm, slightly chaotic, affectionate, and already laughing at itself . Today’s table had four seats filled: Nathalie (South Korea), Rosii (Brazil), Fruitloop (South Africa), and…
Wednesday, the internet cable was cut. Not metaphorically. Not philosophically. Literally cut.Men repairing the water mains managed to sever the fibre optic line, and suddenly Janita — my co-host in this civilized experiment—was joining meetings on mobile data like a field reporter in a conflict zone. Outside: municipal chaos.Inside: HTML. I was deep in code….
When the Mayor announced, with great dignity, that his bushy tail would be on the back as well, nobody in the video call was prepared for what would follow. In English, it sounded innocent. Woodland. Squirrel. Possibly festive. In German, however, Schwanz—tail—has… range. And thus began Martin’s January mission to Edinburgh. Operation: Angel Fish The…
I have a litre of excellent homemade pork knuckle stock. I want to use it as a basis for one week’s worth of cooking; budgeting should be fun, effective, and nutritious. List me one week’s worth of recipes, using the stock as a foundation, even a perpetual recipe. Mr Mayor, that’s liquid gold. A proper…
The first thing that happened was a photograph. Ritesh was describing Kerala like he was still standing there — heat that sticks to your skin, the long walk on the sand, the Arabian Sea holding only the sunset (not the sunrise), and his wife, glowing with that kind of excitement you only see when something…
I sometimes smile when people ask me whether I am German or Bavarian. On paper, of course, I am German. I have a German passport, I speak German, I work in Germany. It’s simple. But when someone asks me that question, it doesn’t feel simple. If I say, “I am Bavarian,” what do I really…
Monday has arrived again, and somehow, the weekend disappeared faster than a cake at a birthday party. After the few mishaps of last week, I had high hopes for a quiet sanctuary. I successfully avoided the swing ball and the driver’s seat, but I forgot one thing: the house was full and too small to…
When people hear the word Grünkohlwanderung, they often think first about the food. Or maybe about the drinking. But for me it is much more than that. It is walking, it is eating, it is laughing, it is standing in cold wind with red ears and warm hands around a little glass hanging on a…
