I spent most of this week travelling in the UK for work. As always, a visit to the motherland was simultaneously comforting and intensely weird. I always forget that London is enormous, and it can be utterly overwhelming after being in Berlin. I also forget that Londoners are decadent and spend-happy in a way that I would find disgusting in Berlin. I do not blame Londoners for this, but instead blame the prevalence of contactless payment cards, and the delicious food and drink everywhere.
My flight from Berlin to London was delayed and I was forced to spend seven unnecessary hours in Tegel Airport. This must surely fall under some kind of UN declaration against cruel and unusual punishment.
I turned 40. Happy to report that this is pretty much the same as being 39, except the existential dread is ratched up by about 15%.
As a turning 40 present my partner and I indulged in a weekend in a country hotel in the Cotswolds. Like fancy bastards. Need to do this more.
Many cream teas were had.
I drove a hire car that was larger than my apartment. It had an interface that was so joyously sci-fi that I had little nerd raptures every time I started the engine.
I flew back to Berlin and realised the existential dread increase now makes me hate flying. I am far too aware of how fragile life is.
Back in Berlin. Within minures of landing had a German pressed intimately into my back while queuing at the passport desk. ♥️
The smell of Jacob-Kaiser Platz’s Döner stand was a beautiful welcome home.
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