I have always refused to take sides in the Arab-Israeli conflict (not least because I don’t know enough about it – does anyone?), and I have found both sides equally intransigent, vengeful, and unwilling to resolve it.
As someone who does not understand religion myself, and finds that it, paired with nationalism, is the root cause of most problems in the world, I never have and never will pick my friends (nor my enemies, for that matter :-)) according to their religion.
Currently, it seems to me that the Israelis are using Hamas as an excuse and what they really want is to eliminate all non-Jews from Gaza. That is called ethnic cleansing.
But in Germany, any attempt at impartiality brands you as anti-semitic, and expressing one little pip-squeak critical of the Israeli government is perceived as support to Hamas.
I actually find that offensive and, quite frankly, absurd. Most people should know me better than that.
I wonder whether Stephen Fry knew how prophetic he was going to turn out to be when about seven-eight years ago, he talked about “the age of infantilism”. Grown men wearing baseball caps back to front, and indoors. Silly socks. And later stupid icons with puppies jumping up and down, probably designed with the age bracket five to ten in mind, but now used by supposedly grown people.
And now, in this country, greetings such as “halli hallo” and “hallöschen”. Which of those is more annoying?
Yesterday, I received a phone call (and this was one of those occasions where I was reminded why I usually keep my phone on silent – I don’t like it when it rings, and only answer when I know it is family calling from Denmark) by a person whom I am sure would categorise herself as an adult and who started out with “halli hallo”, loudly and clearly, and proceeded to rattle off name, company and reason for calling so quickly that I did not have a hope in hell of catching any of it, and then, to add insult to injury, an overly enthusiastic “hallööööööööhschen!”.
I am very sorry but I don’t like being spoken to like a five-year-old, so all I could do was hang up in disgust.
Running a cinema without any kind of ventilation or temperature control (I actually thought the pandemic had made ventilation of confined spaces a requirement. Silly cow me.)
Ruining a feast-for-the-eyes Wes Anderson film (in this case Asteroid City but all his films are like eye candy) by behaving as if you are in your own home, Netflixing. In fact, why go to the cinema at all if you can’t sit still, stop yacking, stop stuffing your face with junk, and stop smartphoning non-stop for the duration of a standard-length feature film? Oh, and refrain from kicking the back of the seat in front of you, and from stretching your arms straight up and stretching while yawning loudly (what’s next – burping and farting as loudly as you can in public?).
By the way, that was my first visit to a cinema for close to four years. And the last.
I have been silently annoyed about the following incident for long enough, so here it comes:
I attended a monthly “Stammtisch” that I had been going to since a year or two before Corona. It takes place over dinner in a local restaurant, and used to be enjoyable.
Then, a couple of months ago, a couple who had never been before arrived, and the man sat down next to me, and the wife directly opposite him. (It is probably a good thing that I did not catch their names because I would have been too tempted to name him here).
He very quickly started to talk to me and ask various (actually stupid) questions, and every time he did, he put his hand on my arm and left it there for what seemed like ages until I withdrew my arm. But he kept repeating the maneuvre. He also kept edging closer and closer to me. I tried to edge in the other direction, which had its limits since there was somebody seated on my other side. More often than not, his face was right “in my face”. It has to be added that he was very clearly not even remotely inebriated. His wife looked increasingly sour as the evening progressed, and whenever I tried to speak to her, she looked the other way and did not respond. After a while, it got so embarrassing that I left, rather abruptly, and have not been back since then.
We have all come across them, and yet, I still don’t know how to respond when people get too up-close-and-personal for my liking. Not least because I know that my body language is quite clear, so why do some people feel entitled to ignore it? And they even do it with an air indicating that women should be grateful for attention from a man – any kind of attention, apparently!
I keep thinking I should have done something to stop it, but what? (I did feel like planting my fork deep in the back of his hand …..). And why am I even feeling guilty in the first place? I am not the one who disrespected someone else’s personal space. That is what I keep having to tell myself.
Hello, this is me – who is pissed off because hugging left, right and centre seems to be back. I had hoped that it would stay away forever after Covid. And I no longer go to concerts or the theatre happily because the seats are too close for comfort. SO – calling all strangers – men AND women: don’t touch me, in fact, whenever possible, keep a distance of about 50 cm between us, and if we find ourselves at the same dinner table, leave your chair (and your face) just where you found it.
Don’t get me wrong – I am not against ALL physical contact – but it is reserved for the select few ;-).
Now in lockdown 2, spending three to four days in a row at home, avoiding the crowds as well as the U-Bahn – which is probably a cesspool at the best of times. Most of the time only going out to food shop and once or twice a week to the outskirts of Berlin for walks in nature.
31 December
The moon shortly before setting this morning:
I bought these air purifiers and installed them a week ago. They claim to clean the air not only of viruses but also of particles, and since I live in a rather busy street with (far too much) motorised traffice, I thought they might be a good investment even though I have no visitors at all these days/weeks/months/(years?).
According to the instructions, when switched on, they should keep a distance of at least 1 m to walls and other objects, because otherwise, particles risk landing on the surroundings. (So this is a practical issue, and not at all a safety issue). That kind of distance is obviously not always convenient, so I have placed one of them closer to both a wall and to some small tables with white tops. After a week, I am not observing much more dust than normally, so this is a “problem” easily solved by a dust cloth or hoover.
In the photo, they look larger than they are. The tallest one is about 65 cm tall.
Counting the hours till it is no longer too early to open a bottle of champagne (although normally, I am much more of a redwine kinda gal), I am reminded of this famous quote:
30 December
Moon setting across the street.
Today was going to be one of the – to use a term which arose during the first lock-down in spring – “stay-the-f…-home” days, but the weather was too good, so – back to the cemeteries, this time Standort Friedhof Lilienthalstraße and Dreifaltigkeitsfriedhof I.
28 December
This morning, BBC World is running a programme called “Europe’s migrant crisis five years later”. This is starting to get on my nerves. Although It is certainly a crisis, to put it mildly, for the migrants, for Europe it is a crisis of xenophobia, bloody-mindedness, mean-spiritedness, inhumanity, and lack of empathy and solidarity, as well as a glaring lack of political will to solve an issue which ought to be a piece of cake for an area as large, wealthy, priviledged, and some even say enlightened (yeah, well, just keep thinking that and it may come true one day) as Europe.
27 December
A few token vaccinations took place yesterday and today, the real “roll-out” starts. According to a plan I saw and posted a few days ago (below), my age group will be vaccinated in August/September.
For now, numbers are still high, and they are talking about extending the current lockdown beyond 10 January.
Although I actually enjoyed the eerie quiet, after four days indoors, I need to get out, and have a walk (with my camera) planned for today, and one (with a friend) planned for tomorrow. That’s two walks in two days. This is turning into an insanely busy schedule.
Oh – nearly forgot: First snow fell yesterday. Did not last long, and did not stay, but for about ten minutes, I saw several children jumping up and down in ecstacy on the balconies across the street :-).
Since I am not using public transport at all during this lockdown, somebody advised me to go to this place, which is within walking distance for me, for bird photography.
24 December
Playtime!
21 December
Solstice. Feeling pessimistic nonetheless. I fear the next year will be worse than this year, Corona-wise. This virus is mutating faster than rabbits breed, and it is just a matter of time before a new strain appears which is resistant to the known vaccines, if it is not already there.
For me, I feel priviledged to not have to worry about unemployment during this lockdown, and to be able to spend it in a nice home I really like. I have lived my life, fortunate to be born in the best decade and part of the world – the 1950s, Denmark, with all civil and political rights served to me on a silver platter (not to mention a roof over my head, three daily meals, and no wars), never had to fight for anything, so it does not matter whether I live or die. And I have to admit that the thought of being spared the indignities of old age and the ugliness of becoming dependent on other people’s help, is attractive and has been on my mind for a long time already. My mother spent six months in an old peoples’ home before she died and all she talked about was her wish to die and I could not blame her. Ending up in one of those places is indeed a fate worse than death.
However, I feel sorry for all those who thought they had a long life to live, and plans ….. But I just don’t think we can beat this one any time soon. If I am still alive by then, it will be interesting to see whether things really are worse than now on this day next year, or whether I will have been proven wrong.
I am just wondering how long I have to look at all this ugliness. These days, in this restricted, locked-down world, it is easier for me to avoid seeing my own ugly face in the mirror than to see this – first, last, and in between:
One of the things I have learned during lockdown that I was never aware of is that we need daylight – daily – in order to be able to produce the melatonin which we will need in the evening in order to fall asleep and get a good night’s sleep. (I am not even sure I was fully aware just how important sleep is).
This makes me feel even more priviledged to have a balcony. Even though I want to stick to my self-imposed regime of staying at home about four to five days a week during this lockdown, I have a place to step out onto, away from traffic noise, where I can sit, breathe, watch the clouds float by, read, and hope for a bird or two to turn up for a photo op (even if it is usually only dumb pigeons, and a bit too far away).
19 December
It is strange not to be busy preparing the usual end-of-year parties.
Some years, I have had a pre-Christmas glögg, followed by a curry to balance things out, party. Those have actually been my season’s favourite.
Christmas does not mean much to me, other than an excuse to share good food and wine with family (when I was still living in Denmark), and now friends. As far as I recall, I did not enjoy it much even as a child. I remember it as a time of the year with too many expectations of everything having to be perfect and done in a certain way, not to mention sequence. And as for the infamous Danish Christmas lunches – I always actively hated them and attended as few as possible.
After moving to Luxembourg in January 1976, I and a Danish friend thought it was fun to hold traditional Danish Christmas dinner in early December for non-Danish friends and colleagues, and as far as I recall, we went overboard with the traditions. Of course we all then went our separate ways over the holidays and only came back in early January.
Then, after I moved back to Denmark late 1985, for a number of years while my niece was a child, Christmas Eve was fun. But that is just about the sum of it.
Actually, this Christmas, I would have been spending in Denmark, for once, since my niece had invited me to a combined housewarming and Christmas dinner on 24 December. But that was not to be. A pity in a way, but on the other hand, apart from seeing my brother and his family again, I have no particular desire to visit Denmark.
Since I moved to Berlin in January 2016, every 24 December I have either eaten out with a friend in a really good restaurant, or invited a handful of like-minded people to a “this-is-NOT-Christmas-dinner” dinner at my place.
Incidentally, I find people who now whine about not being able to spend Christmas exactly the way they normally do, pathetic and hypocritical. Not only are they completely forgetting about all those who usually have to work over the holidays, but more importantly, they are completely ignoring all those who have been displaced, as refugees, and the younger generations separated from the oldest generations, and have been unable to celebrate anything together for years, AND without knowing whether they will ever see them again. They are also forgetting how they often complain about the pressure put on them to have a picture-perfect, idyllic, whale of a time year after year, and in many cases having to spend the time with people they don’t even particularly want to spend time.
That was my penny’s worth about Christmas. I am looking forward to the peace and quiet, and just for once – I am hoping for snow 😊! It would at least temporarily change the views from my flat and make my street – not the most attractive street by any stretch – more photogenic.
My usual New Year’s Eve party, with anything between ten and around 22 (as far as I remember) people, lounging around, sipping champaign, and watching the fireworks from my 6th floor perch, is of course also not going to happen. In any case, fireworks are becoming so reviled – for many good reasons – and politically incorrect, that those days are probably over anyway. This year, Corona has been an excuse for banning the purchase of fireworks which I am sure will pave the way for a more general ban in the future. Good for the air quality and for the pets, especially the dogs.
For my part, with no fireworks to watch at all, I am not sure I can be bothered to put on a party on 31 December ever again, or even stay awake till midnight :-). I think also in future I will prefer to spend the evening reflecting on the past, present and future, and this year, I have a lot to think about and decisions to make, and some more “dead wood” (metaphorically speaking) to let go of. And persuading myself I have reasons to stay in Berlin and not move to somewhere on the North Sea.
Anaway, what I meant to post were some more photos I took with that 85mm which is causing me so much trouble. I am wondering what that lens is actually for. No matter what I do or photograph, the photos turn out soft and grainy. (But I did know that it was the completely wrong lens for the first photo :-)).
18 December
Had to go and catsit for a couple of days in Prenzlauer Berg. Brought the Canon 85 mm, 1.2 II USM with me to practise. A heave beast of a lens that I can’t get the hang of at all, which can be seen here:
Last day of “Lockdown Light”. Tomorrow, Germany goes into a “hard lockdown”, in the first instance till 10 January. No big difference for me personally, except I have decided to avoid public transport altogether and therefore will not be going on any long walks on the outskirts of Berlin.
On the positive side, here is some evidence that the sun IS still there, somewhere:
14 December
Starting the week on a negative note, or two, rather – then it can only get better from now on :-).
As if the stinking, noisy, waste-of-space, lethal weapons that are private cars do not do enough damage to our eco-systems, in every sense of the word, Mercedes-Benz has found a way to also send a maximum amount of black printer-toner into circulation. No less than eight full newspaper sized pages with a black background. Well done Mercedes-Benz. And congratulations to Tagesspiegel for distributing this work of genius.
2. It turns out that several of my (so-called) friends are anti-vaxxers. They are old enough to have survived epidemics such as measles and polio thanks to decisions their wiser parents once made on their behalf. So they are also hypocrites. In the case of COVID-19, it is a civic duty for those who can to be vaccinated in order to obtain the essential herd immunity so that as many people as possible can start living as normal lives as possible some time within the coming year (2021).
People with such anti-social attitudes need not contact me any more. It is simply too depressing to realise just how many people are against vaccinations for no other reason than that it is what the authorites recommend; or stupid enough to believe in conspiracy theories, and some even in that video where medical professionals from around the world claim that Covid19 does not exist and that the vaccine is designed to sterilise girls and women. The pharmaceutical companies ought to sue the whole lot of them.
13 December
Another misty morning. There have been many of those this month.
Together with the walk to and from Anhalter Bahnhof that was only about 10,5 km – not good enough, so I will have to make up for it next week :-).
I definitely want to go back to “Steg durch Tegeler Fließ”. The following is a reminder to myself of the types of wildlife one can alledgedly see there:
8 December
I thought I was going to walk around Flughafensee in Tegel. More fool me for not checking first whether that was actually possible. It is not.
What I did see of the lake was lovely, but soon you get to the bird protection area along the western shore of the lake. On the side away from the lake, this area is fenced in (although with an easy view to the area, if not to the lake).
I followed that fence, thinking that sooner or later, I would be able to get back to the lake, but soon met a considerably more aggressice fence which turned out to run along the security zone of Tegel Airport (which closed a couple of weeks ago).
I only really managed to take photos of two birds, both spotted while I was waiting for the bus. One is a cormorant in flight. I don’t know what the other one is, but it was nice of it to sit still long enough.
This is the route. Starting point is U-Bahn Station Holzhauser Straße. End point is where I took the bus (133) back to the same station. https://www.komoot.com/tour/292517821. A nice day out although it turned out a bit different from what I had expected.
6 December
It is a different scenery every morning.
I wonder if that is Mars:
5 December
For a couple of minutes this morning, the sunrise looked like this.
4 December
Tegeler See revisited with a lens better suited for cormorant photography.
Supporting my local restaurants during lockdown. A sacrifice ;-). This evening from Himmel 8 in Ritterstraße, delivered by Wolt.
3 December
One of my few concessions to the season. That is not too christmassy, even for me.
2 December
Moon setting on a day that feels frosty-misty. Or misty-frosty.
Later spotted this outside the Jewish Museum and then played a little bit with it in Lightroom. Autumn colours are my favourite and I am sorry they are almost gone. It has been a long and very lovely autumn in Berlin, though.
Now I have to start working on my dislike of the colour green so that I might end up liking spring almost as much as I like autumn.
1 December
This year has been great for tidying up and discarding “dead wood”, literally and metaphorically.
Anyway, back to the tangibles: Found this old cutting – such as it is, but my mother never bothered with petty details such as source and date – of my father (second from the left) and colleagues just before a performance at the royal theatre. It is probably not the case any longer, but back in the day, the fire brigade (also civil servants) was present behind the scenes in all non-private theatres and concert halls, (hopefully) unbeknownst to the audience. That was just about the only part of the job my father liked. As an added bonus, when a performance or concert was not sold out, he was able to sneak me in for free .
30 November
After three days indoors at home I needed to get out, despite the cold, grey and misty weather. I took the S-Bahn (not particularly full) to Tegel and walked to Tegel Hafen, along the lake, to “Dicke Marie” (alledgedly the oldest tree in Berlin), to some wild animal enclosures and a bit further before returning towards Schloß Tegel which turned out to be unapproachable, and home via the same station. A little less than 15 km in total.
28 November
Berlin has been a hotspot for a while now, and in today’s news came the gloomy statistic that one person dies of or with Covid19 every 100 minutes.
25 November
I know it is foggy when I can’t see the top of the buildings on Potsdamer Platz. When I finally arrange to go for a walk with a friend, we pick the foggiest day this autumn. Will we able to see each other with the distance we are supposed to keep?
At the Landwehrkanal:
24 November
Sunrise. Taken with the 35mm macro lens because there was no time to change lenses. It came out quite well. That is increasingly a favourite lens.
22 November
Guess a macro
15 November
Sunrise, and sunrise reflected, in what used to be the Postbank Building, and in some pigeons enjoying the view.
On 13 November, they found a “Blindgänger” – an undetonated, WW2 US bomb about 550 m from my building (this still happens once or twice a year). Today, they started evacuating around 7.500 people from buildings within a radius of 300 m. The Jewish Museum (Architect Danish Libeskind) is within that radius. Surrounding streets were blocked from traffic and the area filled up with police cars and Red Cross vans. Around 18.00, the bomb had been diffused and traffic returned to normal. Or as normal as it gets during this lockdown.
While I was – exceptionally – out most of the day, on Museum Island, at Hallesches Tor, and at a couple of other places on the way, trying to take photos for this week’s assignment for this online course: Every Place has a Story, co-presented by C/O Berlin and Strudelmedialive, and taught by Anja Hitzenberger, I also took these photos:
8 November
It’s a new world.
7 November
Still practising, and making the best of an epic fail.
5 November
A Beautiful walk round Straussee, to and from Strausberg Stadt, on the S5. Walking round a lake reduces the risk of getting lost, although with my pathetic orientation skills, you never know. Only problem: The sound of cars, more or less distantly, pretty much all the way.
4 November
In the morning I was watching CNN in disbelief that it was not exactly a landslide. After three or four hours, John King’s speed-talking and the speed at which he was able to compute incoming results, and their consequences and possible scenarios in his head was making my head swim and the good weather and fresh air called my name.
I also wanted to take these two beasts out for the first time – arrived yesterday, from me to me – just because A) like so many others, I am not spending money on most of what I used to spend money on, and I won’t be for what is probably going to end up being a period of about two years, if not forever: travel outside Germany; concert, opera, theatre and cinema tickets; and clothes and shoes – apart from a pair of really good walking shoes, and B) to make sure one birthday wish came true:
I no longer had time to go further afield so I opted for a walk along the Landwehrkanal to Urbanhafen. A bit repetitive, but plenty to practise on.
3 November, shortly after sunrise
The weather looks promising, but since I am not planning on going out, it is kind of irrelevant (for me, this is day four in the first set of Corona-imposed stay-at-home days during this second lockdown), and I actually have a very different birthday wish this year – just one – a big one – and I’m sure most of the rest of the world is joining me in keeping everything that can be crossed crossed.
Later, on my balcony:
2 November PM
Weather improved, and expecting my much-looked-forward-to photography course in Amrum in December to be cancelled any day now, it is time to find a different approach.
2 November AM
Day one of second lockdown in Germany. And fittingly, the greyest, rainiest day so far this autumn.
No, CNN and BBC World, it is – still – not “Europe’s migrant crisis”. It is certainly a crisis, to put it mildly, for the migrants. But for Europe, it is a crisis of xenophobia, bloody-mindedness, mean-spiritedness, inhumanity, and lack of empathy and solidarity, as well as of political will to solve an issue which ought to be a piece of cake for an area as large, wealthy, and some even say enlightened (yeah, well, just keep thinking that and it may come true one day) as Europe.
Er jeg den eneste, der får lyst til at slå ihjel hver gang nogen siger “pænt goddag”? Det var muligvis morsomt første gang man hørte det. Dengang børn forventedes at opføre sig ordentligt og mor eller far kunne finde på at sige ting som ”sig pænt goddag” og der så var en opvakt møgunge, der lod som om han eller hun tog det bogstaveligt. Men det må være omkring 40 år siden, og i mellemtiden lyder det ulideligt præpubertært, når stort set ALLE efterhånden siger det – og det er ikke længere kun telefonsælgere, der plaprer det lige ind i ens øregang – sågar voksne TV-personligheder, ingen nævnt, ingen glemt, siger det ustandseligt.
For et stykke tid siden var der en der i et læserbrev i Politiken skrev, at hun havde været til en – ovenikøbet potentielt meget alvorlig – samtale med en læge på et hospital, og var blevet mødt med et “pænt goddag” (fik jeg nævnt, at det var af en læge!?!). Det er jo komplet useriøst og en uhørt fornærmelse. Jeg havde omgående bedt om at komme til at tale med en anden.
Først og fremmest selvfedmen og fremmedfjendskheden, som bl.a. kommer til udtryk i den subtile form for ’etnisk udrensning’, der udøves koldt og kynisk.
Måden hvorpå den danske stat af samme grund i tyve år har saboteret Det Europæiske Miljøagenturs tilstedeværelse i Danmark, og gjort det klart for mine ikke-danske kolleger (og dermed også mig), at vi ikke var velkomne, for eksempel ved at nægte at udstede CPR-numre eller tilsvarende til mine kolleger, så de dårligt har kunnet slå en prut her, og alt (bank, telefon, bibliotek, kursustilmeldinger, osv. osv. osv.) derfor har været ti gange mere besværligt for dem, og der har sågar været mange eksempler på læger, der har nægtet at tilse folk, inklusive syge børn, p.g.a. det manglende personnummer. På trods af, at EU ansatte jo har egen syge- og arbejdsløshedsforsikring og derfor ikke ville benytte sig af den slags rettigheder.
Den fjendtlige holdning til alle der ser ’udanske’ ud, ikke taler perfekt og accentfrit dansk, og ikke lige spiser stegt flæsk med persillesovs hver dag kl. 18.00, og at vi danskere mener at vi ikke alene er de bedste i verden – til ALT – vi er de eneste der sådan rigtig tæller og dur.
Ubegribeligt støjende overboer, der tilsyneladende lærer børnene i familien, at det er i orden at spille fodbold indendørs og at det gælder om at trampe så hårdt som muligt i gulvet.
At bo i landet der opfandt begrebet asylnasser, og som tilsyneladende er stolt af det.
De u-landsagtige forhold man bydes når man benytter busserne i København i myldretiden, hvor man bliver proppet ind i alt for få busser og står som sild i en tønde, og halvdelen af tjek-ud standerne ikke virker (sjovt nok virker tjek-ind standerne altid). I hvilket andet land ser man den ene bus efter den anden drøne forbi et af de mest centralt beliggende stoppesteder, enten fordi de er propfulde allerede eller fordi de ikke er i rute.
Den evindelige blæst.
Den elendige betjening de fleste steder og især i forretninger med hårde hvidevarer, som f.eks. Punkt 1.
Den danske holdning om, at alt hvad der står fremme tilhører alle. Danske over- og underboer, der derfor stjæler med arme og ben, så man ikke kan få nogetsomhelst leveret udenfor sin dør på etagen uden at det omgående forsvinder, og derfor heller ikke kan abonnere på f.eks. Årstiderne, Skagenfood, og VinoVenue, hvilket ellers er noget, der letter dagligdagen gevaldigt, når man har fuldtidsjob. Og danske kolleger, der konstant “låner” kaffe, mælk osv. uden nogensinde at erstatte det, de har taget.
Nyhedsoplæsere, især på TV2 News, der taler elendigt dansk og tilsyneladende er fløjtende ligeglade.
Og nu vi er ved fjernsynet: YouSee, der har til formål at gøre det så besværligt og kompliceret som muligt for deres kunder at se fjernsyn, og at de slipper godt fra det. For eksempel at påtvinge os at skulle anskaffe endnu et grimt monstrum i form af ”boxen” for at kunne se de – for mig – mest ”gængse” kanaler.
Danske håndværkere (fra Svanekøkkenet), der dukker op flere dage senere end aftalt for at lave nyt badeværelse, afmonterer toilettet og smider det ud, og derefter ikke viser sig igen i 14 dage. Og lader som om de aldrig før har hørt nogen sige, at det faktisk ikke har været specielt sjovt at leve uden et toilet i to uger. Og sådan kunne man blive ved, indtil de måneder senere langt om længe også gør køkkenet ”færdigt” ved at sætte listen i vinklen mellem bordplade og væg op FØR de sætter tapetet op. For de ved jo godt, at de i den mellemliggende tid har opført sig så elendigt, at man ikke orker at klage over nogen af fejlene og manglerne, fordi man bare aldrig mere skal have hverken dem eller andre danske håndværkere inden for sit hjems fire vægge.
Den ynkelige frugt- og grøntkvalitet i forretningerne.
De så højt besungne danske værdier som mest går ud på retten til at såre minoriteter og håne dem, der mener, at der er noget, det er værd at dø for, bare fordi vi ikke selv synes det.
At bo i en hovedstad der tillader turistbusser at holde i store stimer med motoren kørende i både halve og hele timer – endda lige uden for restauranter med fortovsservering og kontorer hvor folk forsøger at arbejde. Det er hændervridende irriterede at høre på.
At bo i et land hvor statsoverhovedet er født til at være det og af og til udtaler sig på Danmarks vegne selvom vi ikke har haft mulighed for at stemme på hende og hun intet ved om det virkelige liv. Faktisk gør det mig rasende.
At bo i en hovedstad der ikke har nævneværdige regler for gademusikanter, og de få regler der er, bliver ikke håndhævet.
Most fabric softeners contain toxic chemicals and are bad for you and for the environment. For example, phthalates are added with the only purpose of providing scent.
Furthermore, they clog up your washing machine and render for example towels and tea towels ineffective. In short, they are bad for you, for your washing machine and for the environment.
Instead, fill up the container with white vinegar. It will soften your laundry and help keeping your washing machine clean inside.
It will not make your laundry smell of vinegar, but if you want to add a scent, add up to five drops of essential oil to the vinegar. If you are not (yet) into essential oils, lavender is a good one to start with, but it could also be bergamot, patchouli, geranium or whichever oil you like.
Here is a slightly more ‘cumbersome’ recipe for home-made fabric
Ingredients:
10g baking soda
150-200 ml hot water
800 ml apple cider vinegar
20 drops essential oil
Preparation:
In a large bowl, combine water, baking soda and apple cider vinegar. It will bubble up quite spectacularly. When it settles, pour into a bottle and add essential oil of your choice. Close and shake well before each use. Four tablespoons is enough per wash.
ENDELIG er et medie begyndt at beskrive mad, der er fuldt af smag, som smagsfuldt, i stedet for smagfuldt, som jo betyder noget helt andet. På samme måde som mad, der ikke smager af noget, selvfølgelig er smagsløst, og ikke (nødvendigvis) smagløst. Og det er selvfølgelig Politiken, der går forrest.
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