Berlinale and the Protection of Mr. Netanjahu

While I was painting my Amy-Winehouse-eyeline this morning thoroughly, the radio announced: the Israeli Prime Minister Netanjahu visits Mrs. Merkel today. For his protection they ordered the Highest Security Level around the Waldorf Astoria - which is OK (2012 there were up to 2.400 policemebn protecting him).
But I (and not only I) have a problem: the Zoo Palast, a big cinema and very important for the Berlinale, is on the other side of the Waldorf Astoria.
Meaning: the movie tonight is transferred to another cinema.
But there is no information for todays movie "A Quiet Passion" which I have a ticket for - in the Zoo Palast, at 12:30 a.m.
Dear reader - cross your fingers for me, please - that I manage to get in - in time - and: at all....

Nobody hurt

Yesterday I had a little explosion in my kitchen.
Before that I saw that the light in the fridge was extinct (as you might know the light in the fridge is a symbol for the last sign of hope in a cold world :-). and I mused about the deeper meaning of that.
But even more I worried (very deep down I'm a realist) about the freezer compartments of the fridge...
Then I saw that the red key of the plugbar looked - somehow, don't ask me why - strange.
As Paul in "Yellow Submarine" I thought: 'I'm a borne button-presser' -  and pressed.
A 10 centimeter darting flame sprang up - (well: might have been 7 cm, or even 5) - and I sprang back, without thinking - while the plugbar playfully threw the red button-cap after me...
All's well that ends well: I bought a new plugbar - the caretaker's son was happy to earn a few quid for pushing the fridge so that we could plug in the new plugbar - and now he (this fridge is definitely male) hums again.
(W)Hole-istic.
Sounds like "Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds to me.

Orphaned: Rose Aphrodite

See? Evidently I have a problem with two things: writing a short post, and writing more often.
(The second is a form of politeness: I fear that I might bore you stiff).
But you are grown-ups and  know if you want to read or not. So from now on I will scatter little notes between 'real' posts.
Today a rose strayed to me; Rose aphrodite. Sometimes someone in our house, with a balcony but lacking the heart of a gardener, not wanting to feel like a murderer, impatiently maroons a rose (or other plants) in our Hinterhof (a back yard). This one survived winter in a small pot. The photos in the Internet show a glorious rose.
I adopted her, of course, fed her, and dream with her of summer.

Waiting For - no, not Godot - but: The Berlinale 2016

Dear You, 

at the moment you could see me with "Thermacare provides patented heat relief for back, hip...and  so on"; a nice hot cherry pit pillow on my stomach and one under my feet, after a deep warm-up of an infrarot lamp on my forehead and a nice, hot tea inside me.
"Oh, poor you - are you sick?" you might ask me caringly.
No, not yet.
But I feel like an icicle because I did something I would not have done for myself.
I promised an acquaitance (she stood herself in another queue in another part of Berlin) to go and manage to grab two Berlinale tickets for us. Easy-peasy, I thought - I will be there on time, at 9 o'clock in the morning (as my acquaintance had told me), and presto!
Hupp- haff, or: hahaha.
When I arrived I wondered, why very young people sat there - in a very long queue - on little camping chairs. Oh boy, was I naive!
The selling started at 10 - to arrive at 9 was only lax prudence, because The Initiated (most of the others in front of me), had arrived at 6 or 7 o'clock. In the morning! Only to get cinema tickets!!!
I would never... but well: I promised...and being Prussian, I stay to my word of honour. Ever.
So I stood.
2 long hours in the cold.
The young woman, sponsered by Audi, kindly served a non-alcoholic glogg - thank you, thank you!
Not being excessively shy, I had long conversations with two women in the queue, one a judge, the other a barrister  - for one I bought a third ticket - because you are only allowed to buy two... and only three days in advance - really: you have to be very pernickety to read and understand the very difficult order-management for the Berlinale! (Make things rare, and people will buy).
Thank God it didn't rain. Nor snow.
Should not complain: I even managed to get those two tickets (not taken for grantedness - often tickets are sold-out after 10 minutes!)
For one evening George Clooney is announced - well: you could serve him on a silver platter to me, with a little ribbon around him: I will never stand there again for two hours!
Promised. 

Starfish politics

I was always fascinated by this little story by an unknown author which I found in an anthology of Celia Haddon.

An old man walking the beach at dawn noticed a young man ahead of him picking up starfish and flinging them into the sea. Catching up with the youth he asked what he was doing. 
'The starfish will die if they are still on the beach when the sun roasts them with its mid-morning heat,' came the answer. 
'But the beach goes on for miles, and there are millions of starfish,' countered the old man. 'How can your effort make any difference?' 
The young man looked at the starfish in his hand and then threw it to safety in the waves. 
'It makes a difference to this one', he said. 

That is a good answer, I think (regardless of whether it is biological truth or not).
So many people want to save the whole world. They have big words of scorn for what is going on.
And then they are not even able to keep peace in blogland, mistrusting and misunderstanding almost deliberately to find a cause of 'not getting involved'.
I am not a dreamer - I don't think that the world is all harmony - it never was.
I believe in helping a bit - and if many do that, the world will become a bit better.
Not perfect - but better.

London in 1927 & 2013

Dear You, 
I just found this - in an article from the Londonist - and share it with you - so beautiful!
They restored a film made by Claude Friese-Greene.
Have to see London very soon...
(Query: can you be homesick when you weren't born there?)

Lost for words... (almost)

Today I read in BBC News that a Darlington head teacher has asked parents to 'wash and get dressed'. 
She
 "made the appeal after she noticed more and more adults wearing pyjamas at the school gates as well as at meetings and assemblies." 

and:

"Ms Chisholm said the final straw came when parents wore pyjamas to the Christmas show and to recent parents' evenings." 

She even has to explain herself:

""I'm not trying to tell people what to do with their lives, but I just think having a really good role model first thing in the morning, getting yourself up, getting yourself dressed, ready for business, out to school is a really good example to set." 

I am aghast.
Can you imagine how it must be for those children to go with their parents in pyjamas to a Christmas Show?