I mention marshmallows because we had another BBQ last night. It turns out that it is more than acceptable to hold multiple birthday celebrations in Germany. The girl (woman? I guess 33 probably qualifies her as being in the latter camp) who had her actual birthday and minor celebration on Thursday followed this up with a more full on experience last night, with a BBQ,fire-with-accompanying-marshmallow-toasting, many beverages and much jollity.
Some further observations should be made regarding the BBQ culture over here. If you are a pig in Germany, you are basically screwed. You will end up on a BBQ in some form or another. Cows, on the other hand, seem to get off lightly, to the point that when I decided I wanted a burger, I had to create my own from some mince. I quite like doing this, as it has a wonderful habit of getting excessively messy. Previous attempts at burger creation had resulted in a slightly dry finished creation. This time I was determined that this would not be the case, sadly I may have somewhat over-compensated. Burgers, I am pretty sure, should not be runny when placed on the grill.
One of the guests at the party last night arrived with some giant beasts in dog shape, which the cats were staggeringly unimpressed about. They retreated to the barn for the majority of the evening,appearing from time to time to see if the danger had passed. The danger did not pass, so the barn was deemed to be an acceptable refuge until the madness was over. Presumably a letter of complaint was penned.
I have mentioned table football before. It is taken fairly seriously here, and last night gauntlets were thrown down and the table football table was unveiled. I did not entirely disgrace the nation, and there were inevitable comparisons drawn between my performance and that of a certain national squad and a recent tournament, but overall it was not a damning indictment of my footballing capabilities.
On a final BBQ related theme, I did learn something of a religious nature recently that I had previously not been aware of. It turns out that if you are a Jehovah's Witness, not only are you likely to be feared for your doorbell ringing prowess, but you are also unlikely ever to be seen at a birthday party, as attending these celebrations is not allowed. I learnt this because the birthdayee goes out with one of said denomination, and he was remarkably absent over the whole affair. I am not sure what to conclude from this, other than putting up some form of permanent birthday celebration sticker on my door to enjoy some quality peace and quiet.
I will now briefly hearken back to the wedding we attended last week,as I received some feedback that I had not adequately covered certain aspects of it. In particular, the drinking. I have this theory with drink, which is that it doesn't matter how drunk and silly you get at a party, as long as someone else is more drunk and more silly, and thus carrying the attention away. This theory runs along similar lines to the "who was the second or third man on the moon?" question. No-one remembers.
Anyway, in this case, Vera's sister magnificently carried the day for me. Unlike previous sibling stories, this one sadly does not end in a buffet incident, even though there was a rather fine buffet to launch oneself into. And perhaps I had rather more to do with the inebriation, what with the plentiful champagne refills. Because I am a giving sort of chap. No, this time the story ended rather sadly the next day, in a cold, sober manner, asleep on a sun lounger in the blistering heat, resulting in a rather fascinatingly striped effect. In conclusion, if you need to sleep off a hangover, find somewhere in the shade.
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