Tag: ceci

German Holiday Part 5

27th September

Watch the whole thing unfold here

Breakfast was at 8 am this morning as usual. Too bloody early for me. I struggled to get up at 7:50am and as a result I was frightfully grumpy all morning. I snapped at Dad when he offered to brush my teeth for me. Not something he’s ever done before and I think he was just saying it to wind me up actually, but it just made me laugh, also he offered so I let him do it, he made me retch twice.

The hotel owners had obviously been shopping because the protean ‘meat’ slice was back along with a friend. Salami had been purchased. I had 12 slices! And 8 slices of the holy cheese! And some relatively nice bread had been provided too. So that put me in an even better mood!

Today in the morning we went to Baden Baden. I thought it would be a quaint market town with little shops selling trolls and cuckoo clocks and the what not. I was once again very much mistaken. It is the poshist place I have ever been. We couldn’t even afford an ice cream! Every shop was either 7000 Euro a pair shoes, posh woman’s clothes or jewelry shops that didn’t even have prices on, though I did see one ring for 123,000 European dollar pounds! We didn’t get any lunch. We didn’t stay long. Which was good because street performers were coming out of the woodwork. There was a chap dressed as Charles Chaplin who came and stood very close to me. I avoided eye contact and walked away, he didn’t follow me thank goodness.

We got back on the bus after Cecil bit the expensive bullet and bought some incredibly expensive cheese straws. He won’t let me try, he’s saving them for Christmas, the swine!

Very expensive
They cost about 4 pounds!

We got back on the coach and went to another town, which I don’t know what it was called. I shall have to look at the literature later. It was apparently mostly destroyed in the war and then rebuilt to exactly how it was. They should have put in less jewelry and clothes shops. That’s all they seem to sell round here, overpriced thin biddy clothes and jewel based adornments.

Cecil was moaning about being old and tired and just stormed off and went into a café, I followed because I was also hungry. We sat down and a German waitress came up and asked what we wanted to drink, Cecil did his usual trick of blankly looking at the person serving us, then shaking his head, looking confused at me and saying “what?!”. I guessed she had come to take our order and not quiz us on European socio-political issues so I told Dad to tell her what he wanted to drink. We also pointed at someone else’s pudding and asked for two of them. When she came back with our drinks and cakes, I was given the cake we ordered, Dad was given some strange thing which had fruit in it. He tried to make me have it but I was tucking into the cinnamon Danish which didn’t sport fruit, so I just ignored him!

While we sat in there it began to rain heavily. We tarried in there for a long while; another couple from the bus came and sat down next to us. They were having a conversation to each other, but we were so close we couldn’t help not hear them. Then dad started doing his usual trick of talking to me, about the conversation he could over hear. It was so embarrassing. I think he thinks they can’t hear him but it was so obvious he was listening to them. Then when we left dad said ‘goodbye’ to the couple and the Geordie woman gave him a cold, almost snooty ‘yes bye’ back.

It was very nice, Cecil was jelous

We marched around the town some more, I even went into a shop and almost bought some booze but then chickened out when I saw it cost over 20 Europes.

Nothing of interest happened, on the way back the driver put a cd of Irish style songs. The biddies sang along, I did not!

Were just about to go for tea now, I fear what horrors they will provide us with tonight. I fear cabbage based food!

19:38 pm o clock
Freudenstadt is the town we went to this afternoon, I just found the info!

There was no cabbage for tea but there was once again a ridiculous wait. We got our soup based liquids at half past 6, then 40 minutes later we got our boiled beef in a white sauce. Then I waited for half an hour for some alleged pudding but I couldn’t stand to wait anymore so I came back to the room without Cecil. I think you can guess what I did. Yes that’s right I ate all the expensive cheese straws! They were delicious. He will be furious!

Bully beef?

It’s ten past eight and he still isn’t back. I don’t know why it takes them so long to serve tea, you’d think they want to get us in and out as rapidly as possible so we can get back to chain drinking, as these Scottishers and Geordies seem to. I’m just watching German TV. It is very odd, I don’t know what they are saying but there was a young man and an old man in a forest sitting on an ant’s nest getting covered in ants and getting bitten. Having experienced being bitten by loads of ants I don’t know why anyone would chose to do it.

Dads just come back from tea apparently the pudding was out of this world and everyone got a free set of erotic postcards, but dad gave his away. I don’t believe him. Tomorrow were aren’t going anywhere, so dad wants to go for a walk through the black forest, which were are in. There better not be any bears or wolves. I bet there are!

German Holiday Part 4

This post contains reference to a silver key, it is because of things that earlier in the year regarding a silver box. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it! or your hideously ugly head depending on its appearance.

26th September

I have absolutely no faith in our bus driver, I’m sure he is trying to kill us or himself. He mounted the curb 8 times today!

Watch a video of today’s shenanigans right ere 

First thing this morn we got up and had breakfast. They didn’t even have any of the pink protein meat (they had another meat slice but it had clear gel and lumps in so of course I didn’t try it) so I just had 2 sweet bread roll things and I put cheese on them. The Germans at the next table gave me some very odd looks. I guess it’s very wrong to have cheese on sweet bread stuff. Sod them all. Dad wanted to see how much he could eat. He had

  • Boiled eggs (6)
  • Slices of toast (4)
  • Slices of cheese (8)
  • ‘Meat’ slices (1, he didn’t like them either today)
  • Bowls of cereal (2)
  • Yoghurt (3 bowls, it was the same yoghurt from last night)
  • Slices of bacon (6 but it looked like it had been boiled so I refused to even try it)
  • Scrambled egg (one mouthful)

The second he tried the scrambled egg he had to run off and find a toilet to be sick in. Apparently it was off and also it had the consistency of an ‘egg custard’ which Dad hates almost as much as I hate tomatoes. He sicked it all back up (it took 14 ‘sicks’ before he stopped), then he came back and had another 2 boiled eggs and toast. I just sat there all the time astonished he was trying to eat so much, given he hasn’t poo pooed yet.

At 9 am we set off for Strasbourg. Both me and my father (and grandfather) thought this was in Germany however we were moronic idiots, because it’s in France! And if there is one thing Cecil hates more than egg custards, it’s the French! He’s always had a deep distrust of them since some of them stood in our way when were trying to catch our bus when we went to Austria. Father was furious, but he had to come to Strasbourg to find the key, so into France we went!

We got off the bus at 10:30am and walked towards the huge church thing. Notre dame or something I don’t know, though I thought that was in Paris, but it’s the only French church I know of so get off my back! This had to be the church granddad talked about. Opposite it there was a hotel, the one Granddad lived in for a while with Mimi! We got into the church and began looking around for gargoyles that looked like a young Bruce Forsyth. It took us 52 minutes but we found one by a door. The only problem was there was a thick piece of red robe in our way. How could we get passed this and through the door? There was only one thing for it. Someone would have to make a distraction, while someone very brave snuck through the door.

Chubby cherub

We flipped a coin. And 5 times out of 5 it came up as me having to do the distraction. But I refused. So in the end Dad had to go and pretend to fall over while some guard type people went to his aid I snuck through the door.

I looked up. I wished I had done the distraction. There must have been at least eight thousand and ten stairs, then two or more! I climbed them all. It took me 35 minutes. I finally reached the top. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned for decades. I had no idea which way east was. So I just pulled at bricks near the floor near windows, finally a few fell away and behind them was another leather folder. I grabbed it, but also checked all the other windows just to be absolutely sure I had the only hidden folder at the top of the tower. It was.

I ran down the stairs and through the door. A man gave me an odd look but he didn’t say anything. I went outside and met Dad by the hotel as arranged! We walked down the hill to the river out of the gaze of CCTV and MI5 should they been peeping on us. We opened the folder. Inside was a piece of paper and a cube of stone and a lighter. I read the paper, which had these words written on it

“To whom it may or may not concern. Within this cube is hidden a key. The key belongs to a silver box hidden in my writing bureau. Within the box are artefacts which if discovered by the wrong people could destroy all of humanity. If you need this key the only way for you to access it is by melting the stone it is now encased in. To do this …..”

Then the paper had gotten damp and was unreadable. Dad then got quite angry. He just picked up the cube and lighter and started to try and burn it. Amazingly it worked. The stone got very hot and started to disintegrate. After about 10 minutes the key was visible. After another 5 minutes the rest of the cube disintegrated and the key fell into Dads palm. He grabbed it and went to hug me with joy that he finally had the right key. But then he started screaming. He flung his arms up in the air. They key had been red hot. The key shot out of his hand. The key flew through the air. The key went ‘plop’ into the river. The key was never seen again. Dad wept!

For 20 minutes he just sat there crying, clutching his hand. I didn’t know what to say or do so I just sat next to him looking at the boats going back and forth. It was a busy and filthy river. There was no way we were going to get the key back. Dad then grabbed me by the shin and said “shit, Paul look!” I looked down at his hand and he had a bright red mark in the exact shape of the key. It was a simple key so Dad thought someone could make a new key from just looking at it.

Amazingly we walked 50 yards down the road and found an English speaking key cutter! We went in and Dad showed him his hand and told him he needed a key cut to the exact shape. The man was very helpful and took several pictures and drew the exact shape and size of the key. He said it would take a few months to make a key from a scar but it was possible. Dad was happy again. We went into a restaurant and Dad had a knuckle of ham. It looked revolting but he made me try some and it was delicious salty bacon type meat! I had ordered a well done beef burger. When it came it was pink in the middle, still bloody even. If that’s well done I dread to think what ‘rare’ is!

Vile half raw burger with crunchy off bread base

It was bland and also hidden underneath it was a slice of tomato, loads of onions and lettuce. It was an abomination of a burger! And I think the bun was off because it was very crunchy on the bottom. Another 12 Euros wasted!

Dad said to me not to mention the key business to mum as it was going to cost £325 to get a new one made. I asked Dad why it would take so long for them to make a new one but he didn’t know. It should be ready for Christmas apparently.

Later in the afternoon we walked around shops. It was quite boring. They only seem to have poncy clothes shops here. I don’t know where these people buy their DVD’s or crisps. We got back on the bus, but not before seeing an old man fall of his bike and land on his face. The place is riddled with people on bikes, and they just go where ever the hell they want, even worse than in Austria. Luckily this time no cyclists crashed as a result of me. We also saw a man so drunk he crossed a road and fell over between 2 cars. I thought I would see a third accident, and that accident would be our bus crashing. But he just mounted the pavements several times.

We got back to the hotel at 4 o clock, so now were just sat round waiting for our dinner. Which apparently is mushroom soup. Followed by another hours wait then chicken and noodles. It better be worth the wait. I bet it isn’t! I’m going now to fill up on crisps that are a bit like Wotzits but made with peanuts. I assume they will be foul!

7:39pm

We have just got back from the evening meal. They actually had the soup, main meal and puddings all done and served within an hour and a half of each other i.e. it took an hour and a half for all three courses. Ridiculously long really. Mum would be furious if she were here. But it’s still faster than any other night. But the best/worst part about it was a chap was playing the accordion all the way through the food. So while I struggled to eat red liquid with 1 ‘bay’ leaf Cecil was bobbing up and down to ‘When the saints’. When out mail meal came Cecil got so carried away with singing along to ‘She’ll be coming round the mountain’ that he spat out a lump of chicken which hit an old lady on the back of the head. She looked round but Cecil didn’t realise what he’d done so he wasn’t even looking at her. I however was looking at her; she assumed I had done it. She gave me a filthy look. Most of the people on the bus are Scotch. And the Scotch are very quick to anger. Not like the Irishers or the Welshies. Well its about 70% Scotch and 30% Geordies. So a volatile bunch to be sure. But they do love a good old accordion sing along. I found it all quite amusing and embarrassing at the same time. A strange mix of emotions.

The Scottish woman who had the chicken hit her on the back of her head told her husband. He didn’t say anything to me or give me a dirty look. Maybe he hates her.

Tonight me and father watch a DVD, its ‘The toy’s story’ a rip off of the Disney ‘Toy story’ but it looks like a fun romp anyway!

German Holiday Part 2

24th September

Watch the days events here

What a horrendous 4 hours it had been.  It is now 5:54 am.  Dad woke up about 4 minutes after I finished writing this diary, he stood in the middle of the room swaying, I thought he was asleep.  He was not.  He turned round to me, shouted at me to turn my light on, so I did.  He was green!  He rushed in the bath room and sprayed forth a volume of vomit the likes of which I had never seen.  He hadn’t shut the door so I saw and heard the whole thing.  When he had finished being sick (luckily all in the bowl of the toilet) he came and stood in the middle of the room, just looking at me.  “Oh Paul, I’m going to have a shocking night, I just know it”.  We had gone from the relative calm of the Humber estuary to the north sea and the waters were rough. Very rough.  Up and down, side to side and other combinations of movements.  Cecil was running to the toilet every 15 – 20 minutes.  To my surprise I didn’t feel in the least bit sick, but every time Dad retched I had to jam my fingers in my ears and wriggle them about so I couldn’t to hear him, but that didn’t really work.  He had a travel sickness tablet at about 4 am and felt ok and got to sleep.  Unlike me!  The sea was still so rough I felt like I might be thrown from the bunk at any moment.

I also feared the ferry would tip over in a Poseidon adventure style.  I have been mapping out the ships ceilings in my mind and I think I could get out.  Maybe.

This may be one of the most ‘on edge’ nights sleep I have ever had.  Literally with the pathetic width of this bed.

9:47pm

Well we didn’t drown or die of vomit.  I got about an hours sleep in total. And I had a splitting head ache all day.  We got up at 7am (6am English time) and staggered to the restaurant for breakfast.  Though I wasn’t really hungry for once.  Dad was absolutely starving and ready for a meal.  The boat had gone into calmer waters and was smoothly sailing along.  I could only manage 20 slices of salami and that cheese with the holes in.

Our coach driver hadn’t told us anything about what we do about getting back on the coach when the ferry reaches the port so we bumbled around confused, frightened and nauseous.  As it turned out everything was announced by a robot voiced woman and we just followed the crowds.  Though at one point Cecil walked off ahead and people started following him and he was going the wrong way.  But how was he meant to know, there were no signs!

Eventually we got back on the coach and set off at 9:30am.  Nothing happened for 6 hours!  Then we stopped at a service station in Luxemburg.  Everyone who smoked rushed inside and we followed out of curiosity.  In the shop were buckets of tobacco.  You could buy actual buckets of the stuff.  Unbelievable!  But also there was the biggest jars of Nutella I had ever seen, they cost nearly 30 Euros.  They were as big as my head!  I really wanted one but Dad said we couldn’t afford it.  So we just bought some smaller exotic looking snacks, such as chocolate covered waffles, some Milka thing with vanilla centers in, various crisps and mini salami type snacks.

Then we were on the coach.

Nothing happened until 6:12pm.  And I’m still shaken by it now!

Our coach driver (Bigglesworth, yes that’s his name, he is very posh) has never done this coach tour and he didn’t know where the hotel was, so he was blindly following the sat navs directions to the letter.  This would nearly cost us our lives!

We got near to where the hotel was, so the driver turned up this country road which wound up the side of a mountain. Everything was going well for 20 minutes or so, when the road ran out of tarmac and became a gravel track.  That was the first hint that we should have turned back.  But Bigglesworth pushed on.  The track was about 1 foot wider than the coach, to one side was a steep bank leading up the mountain covered in trees, and to the right was a very steep drop down the mountain, with no trees in the way to catch us should the coach fall.  Then some idiot shouted “oh God that’s one steep drop, are you sure this is the right way?”.  This must have thrown Bigglesworth because he swerved and the whole bus tipped over.  It had fallen into a ditch on the other side of the track, away from the shear drop, leaning towards the mountain side, but now we were stuck in mud.  If I had to guess an angle the bus had tipped over to I would say it was now at about 30 degrees.  People, mostly the old ladies, started screaming, though if the bus had tipped over it would have fallen against the trees and no one would have died.   Bigglesworth did something with the gears and eventually got us free from the ditch.  A big cheer went up, but there was no way to turn round so we had to press on up the mountain.  After a while (and several close calls due to shear drops and bad road surfaces) an old woman screamed at Bigglesworth to let her off.  She had a mini freak out and he asked everyone to leave the bus.  Some of the old chaps directed him and the coach when he reached a field and he managed to turn round.

The ditch the coach fell into

Cecil had gone as white as a sheet and silent.  Once he was off the bus he explained that he could see just how close to the edge we were (he was sat next to the window).  Dad refused to get back on the bus as did several other biddies, so we had to hike down the damn mountain!  It took us an hour, Cecil’s ankle started playing up so I had to find him a stick to rest on.  Some of the other biddies started singing hiking songs.  Dad joined in.  I felt embarrassed.

Eventually we got down the mountain and the bus was waiting for us.  We got on and were met with foul looks from those who had dare stay on the coach.  Sod them all the stupid silly old bastards, I hate them all!

After another hour (Bigglesworth really hasn’t a clue) we made it to the hotel.  Dad went and sat on a bench while I had to go get the suit cases.  While I was stood waiting to get ours, a moronic blimp of an old man knocked over a rubbish bin at me (he bumped into it with his fat arse).  The top was full of cigarette butts and water, so it all splashed over me.  It stank of rancid water (egg) and rancid cigs.  He didn’t even say sorry, or look round and see what he had done.

I dragged the bags to our room which was of course on the very top floor (third) and looked out over nothing but a tree and another tree.  There was also a massive spider in the shower which I gave a powerful wash.

Then it was half 7.30pm and time for tea.  By this point we didn’t know if we were coming or going.  We staggered into the restaurant and had to sit on a table for 6.  I waited for the horrors of other old biddies joining us.  I hate people at the best of times and this was one of the worse days I had had in quite some time.  So the thought of having to make small talk with 4 old strangers was deeply unpleasant.  So I sat there with a foul look on my fat face. Dad wasn’t talking, I think he was drained both physically and emotionally.

That’s when we finally caught a break, the first of the holiday.  All the stupid old bastards buggered off and no one sat with us! It was the happiest meal! I have never had a better meal in a foreign country.  No small talk, we just sat there eating the salty meats.  God knows what it was; it was slightly pink meat in bread crumbs with salty chips.  Though pudding was some fruit in jelly so I gave that to Cecil.

Both me and Dad are now sat on our beds writing our diaries.  Though Dad had to stop because he said he felt like he was still at sea, as soon as he said it I also felt like I was bobbing up and down.

I’ve just had a peek at Dad’s diary, it just reads “god, Germany hates me.  I wish I was back in Blighty.  Margaret, I love you” oh how touching!

Our room is quite nice, but compact.  There are 2 separate single beds but they have very thin duvets and the weirdest pillows I have ever experienced in my existence. They are about a meter square, but filled with feathers.  Your head just sinks in them, I had to fold mine in three and it still went weird.  The bathroom and toilet are all in one, there is no shower cubicle it’s a ‘wet room’ as Dad keeps calling it, “I’m just popping into the wet room to do a poopsicle” he keeps saying.  What this means basically is that the floor of the room is all tiles and almost always wet and cold.  I’ve gone through 3 pairs of socks (Dad’s socks) going in and out of there.

There is a tiny TV in the room, it gets German TV obviously and also Sky News, though Dad has forbidden me from watching the news because he doesn’t want to think about England while he is away.  There is also a hair dryer.  I had to dry Dad’s socks with it, it was quite powerful!

We don’t know where were going tomorrow, Bigglesworth hardly speaks, I don’t know when we go to Strasbourg.  We have never had so little information from a driver.  Normally you can’t shut them up. This holiday feels like it’s going to be very different, and mostly so far it’s tried to kill us thrice.  That is if you can die from sea sickness or missing a train!

What next?!