Britta's Letters from (and sometimes about) Berlin
Wednesday, 24 September 2014
friendship is about trust. And Anne trusted me blindly when she came from Darmstadt to London, waiting for me at the feet of St. Paul's, not knowing what would happen, or which destination was waiting for us.
I arrived in time - though in Berlin it seemed that circumstances had plotted against me:
first the alarm-clock of my cellphone didn't work (and husband lectured in Hildesheim). Luckily I had packed everything the evening before, and as I am an early riser, I got wary in the early morning and looked at the clock in the kitchen. Crumbs! Crumbs of time left, to be precise - only half an hour instead of a leisurely one...
So my eyeliner wasn't quite as perfect as usually, but RyanAir was gracious (yes - it can be!) and took me nevertheless - when I finally arrived. Which was at the last moment: having fetched the right underground and changed into the right overground (which needs about fifty minutes to go to the airport) - I relaxed. Looked dreamily out of the window. Suddenly I wondered: 'Hermannstraße' was announced. 'Hermannstraße???' I hurried out of the overground - got a train back: I had forgotten to change at Südstern!
There the next train to the airport was announced (and innerly I apologised to husband, who had advised me to arrive 90 minutes before the flight-departure at the airport - I had laughed a bit condescendingly at this proposal - but followed, and boy: was I happy that for once I had listened to the voice of reason!)
Imagine my horror when suddenly the plate announced: "The next overground to the Airport is cancelled".
I hurried to the information desk. Yes, there was an alternative: a real train, coming in ten minutes.
Well: "All's well that ends well" as your dear William S. remarked so wisely.
From the moment I sat in the airplane (10 Euro more to be RyanAir's special guest - hahaha - meaning: you get in first, and have a seat with a little more room for long legs) everything was OK.
And there she was, in London: my friend Anne. My friend since the time we studied together in Mainz. Who had now written her thesis on a German poet and had earned a doctor's degree.
Such a joy!
I wanted to give her something special for that.
Only when we sat in a restaurant and I gave Anne a pair of long golden earrings with a (fake) emerald, she guessed our destination:
Highclere Castle, belonging to the Earl and Countess of Carnarvon - to most of us better known as "Downton Abbey".
Enough for today (Now I will dip into your blogs, so I will write the sequel later).