I'm not sure if it's just a phase or if something happened, but she's very hard to read at the moment. One second, she's happily being brushed in her basket; the next, she swats at my hand because it's become too much for her. I don't know what's going on, especially because she still likes to be petted as much as ever. But she hasn't been properly brushed in about two weeks now, and I just hope she decides to let me do it again soon.
It’s sometimes hard to cope with the fact that all my friends improve so much at running in such a short time, even though I train three times a week.
Baltrum is one of those strange little places you find on Germany’s islands, where nothing much ever happens except for the twice-daily ferry that brings in and carries away the tourists. I have a peculiar fascination with villages like this. They feel like a theatre production where most of life revolves around serving tourism, but the actors and crew can’t leave the stage when the season ends and no one is left to watch the show.
We drove to Bremerhaven, very close to where I grew up, to visit the Klimahaus and my father. It was a surreal experience to be in those places with Anna. I usually try to avoid going there, but this time it was nice, even if Linus, my father’s ageing dog, tore a ligament later that day while trying to chase a cat.
Anna's mother had always dreamed of doing a Wattwanderung, a walk through the Wadden Sea at low tide to one of the nearby islands. So we packed our things, rented a car and a house, and made our way to Germany's north coast, where I'm originally from.
Packing is the worst. I’m not even bad at it, it just isn’t fun. It’s like a puzzle where the result will never be perfect, and you just have to live with the compromises. Especially when you’re flying with only carry-on luggage.
Bless you!
Model trains and a lack of privacy.
What a nice guy!
