Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Spoilt Brat

Dear oh dear - what on earth was wrong with me yesterday? There was absolutely no reason whatsoever for the bad mood that started to descend during the afternoon and peaked (or troughed?) not long before midnight, when I skulked off to bed in a big, bad sulk. Okay, there was a sort of reason; it just feels childish to admit that lack of sleep can still get to me just like it used to get to me when I was four years old. But back in the day, I was allowed to throw toddler tantrums; 39 years on, I'm the first to admit that they're just not allowed - and yet still, yesterday, I indulged myself.

Sulk, sulk, sulk, strop, strop, strop - in town, in the supermarket, over a bottle of wine with dad. Back home, I spiralled more and more and more, until ... well, put it this way: even the pepper mill came in for a bit of a thumping, accused of recalcitrance. Can I just say that I'm very sorry to all concerned? The spoilt brat behaviour was uncalled for, and I'm going to do my very best never to inadvertently call for it again. Now here's the excuse:

Mike and I had a lovely weekend (I'd like to call it a 'long weekend', but unfortunately two nights away was all too short, especially considering the distance travelled) in Luxembourg and around the Mosel Valley, Germany. We drove - eek! - picking up Mike's brother en route (in Chichester: supposed to be very pretty, but there was no time to stop) and taking the ferry from Dover to Dunkirk. I would tell you the route we then took to Luxembourg, but unlike David Bowie, Hits of the 80's, animal behaviour and cooking, geography is not my strong point. Suffice to say we didn't hit Luxembourg until around 10pm local time, after 12 hours of travel.

Having now visited the city, I don't see why people write Luxembourg off a boring or dull. For a start, it's pretty impressive to look at, built around a huge gorge with loads of historical bits on display for all to see. It's a quiet city, for sure; when we arrived, there were few watering hole opportunities to take advantage of. But you know, life isn't all about parties, is it? So we went back to Steve's girlfriend's house (a pretty little suburb right by the airport) and got our heads down in preparation for our foray into Germany. The district we were staying in looked more like London, Ontario than anywhere in the Europe I know and love (or perhaps London, Ont. looks more like middle Europe than Canada?), but that soon changed as we hit the road, my trusty duvet keeping the chills out and Bella the lovely dog (see previous posts) snuggled down between Mike and I in the back.

First stop, Trier: strudel in a coffee shop, bratwurst from the Christmas market and purple gloves from Woolworths - yes, Woolworths! - for just 3 euros ("That's the Wonder of ...", etc). Then on we drove through the valley, the vineyards deep in winter hibernation but the gorgeous river that runs through it in full flow. Bernkastel, though, was where the full-on sensual feast really began. My goodness, this town was surely made for Christmas! You know those cute little gingerbread houses that proliferate at this time of year, all wooden toy soldiers and pretty girls in flowery skirts? Well, Bernkastel looks exactly like one of those. Another festive market dominated the centre of town; we drank Glühwein, slurped goulash soup (the best I've ever tasted) and decided that the gnome with the piercing eyes overlooking one of the kiddie fairground rides was a Stephen King character just waiting to happen. We checked into a neat little hotel and went out for dinner - pork for me, in a creamy mushroom sauce; goose and a "bit of everything" elsewhere. I wouldn't say the food was spectacular, but the ambience and the whole experience most certainly was. Afterwards, Bella and her mistress sensibly called it a day, while the boys and I made full use of the hotel bar. And here, perhaps, is where yesterday's stroppy mood started. Was it really a good idea to push the boat out when another 12 hours of travel lay ahead the following day?

On waking, I felt slightly queasy. Still, I stoically tagged along on the visit to Bernkastel's actual castle (derelict now, but still very Disney, with great views) and took in the views all the way back to Luxembourg, where we enjoyed a takeaway lunch in an Irish pub (Man U v Liverpool - you can take the boys out of England, etc) before setting off home again.

We hit freezing fog between Chichester and Bath. We didn't get home until 4am. I had to get up at 7.30am to call my mum, and when I went back to bed for a couple of hours, I couldn't sleep. And that, dearest Discoites, is the recipe for a moody Monday. It was a fabulous weekend, though. Thank you so much to all involved - not least of all Bella.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Sweetie, I do hope you're over both the bad mood and the hangover! Great post, good to have you back. Would like to read more on 'feelings' though - come on, we all know you're very good at that! Seasonal blessings to you and yours x