Sunday, 18 February 2007


Sveiki. That's Latvian for "please don't eat me, I'm not a doughnut". Or something. Maybe it's "hello". Humpf. We're going to Riga. That's in Latvia. Probably.

Last year we were definately going to Berlin. Berlin - city of bears! We own it. It belongs to the bears. They don't give out a best film Oscar - they give out a Golden Bear! How cool is that. And there's Steiff. And Cabaret - divine decadence, burlesque, and Liza Minnelli, when she was still young and sexy.

"The World Cup's on". "Yes, the World Cup is on." "In Berlin." "Yes, in Berlin."

I like a bit of footie. I wear my Partick Thistle scarf with pride. I enjoy a bit of a kickabout. Or I would do if my footieball hadn't "disappeared".

She would rather lick marmite off John Prescott than have anything to do with the Beautiful Game. We weren't going to Berlin until it was all safely over. Humpf.

So this year we are definately, definately going to Berlin. We have the map. I've been practising. "Mein Name ist Bear und ich bin ein Bär. Sie sind ein sehr schönes Steiff."

But we're not going to Berlin now. We are going to Riga now. Because.

I expect that they toast bears over an open fire for fun there. In fact, here we are, the Bear Slayer. I'm going to die - my head pulled off by some big, fuzzy eared Baltic maniac.

I might just go to Berlin without her. Or Vienna.

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