I guess you know it´s not the group I´m referring to but the boys and girls in green. The European Union is making the police here change to blue which I think is a shame as the polizei is quite distinctive but what can you do?

You may recall that in an earlier blog I mentioned that the polizei only make their presence felt when there´s a) a football match of b) the local nazi party is around. Today it was the latter. There was a very well organized, orderly (this is Germany, nobody really gets disorderly) march through the centre of Essen. The group was made up of only young men who waved their flags and chanted stuff. They were escorted by two police vans front and back. When they reached the centre they were met with curious onlookers (me), disgusted locals (everyone else) and coppers on the street, one of whom (male) wore a very fetching silver earring. There was also a van with caged dogs. The doors were open and the marchers got a good look at the implied threat of the barking, snarling dogs inside. I thought this was an extreme reaction by the police as these guys weren´t drinking, weren´t aggressive, weren´t doing anything other than march. I think we all know they have zero chance of getting back into power so threating them with dogs was too much.

At least there was a police presence. In London the marches were usually by islamic fundamentalists prancing down Edgware Road and there was never a cop in sight. I did laugh one day when, during one of the sporadic fights between Lebanon and Israel, there was a march where the signs read ´we are all hezbollah.´Men in front, women with prams behind. It sounded funny to hear first deep voices then high ones. I really couldn´t take it seriously.

If you want to see political demonstrations, Kiev is the place. There´s usually one every Saturday with the requisite police presence. They only come out in riot gear in October when the communist party and the far right party have their march. This one can be guaranteed to end in fisticuffs.

Acutally I don't feel guilty at all. I wonder why that phrase even exists? My secret is: men in spandex! Yes readers, I like watching wrestling. I got into it when I lived in Bangkok. Although my apartment was in a suburb, the traffic there is so horrendous during the week that going into the centre after work was out of the question so I got into watching wrestling on TV. Way back then it was the WWC and the WWF. Now of course it's the WWE. I thoroughly enjoyed the storylines and watching the WWC do 3rd rate imitations of whatever the WWF did. I got to know all the wrestlers names and their signature moves. Who decides on their names, by the way? Do they decide themselves or is it a bit like choosing your supposed porn name? But whoever has heard of an adult actor called 'The Undertaker"?

I haven't watching wrestling in years but imagine my delight last night when I turned on Eurosport and there was the WWE in all it's glory. Monday nights are now reserved for me and my men in spandex.

Did I say I wanted a perfect man? Does a perfect man or woman even exist? I guess it depends on your perspective. I typed in my ideal but notice I also didn´t say whether my current or previous partners meet my ideal. So do/did they or don´t/didn´t they? In some ways yes, in others no. Do I meet their ideal? I have no idea. If they want someone who´s upbeat most of the time, who thrives on drama, who doesn´t remain unhappy for very long, who can see the positive in a negative situation, who loves to ad-lib the dialogue to German language movies and who takes the piss out of CNN ´reporters´, then that´s me. Let´s be honest, everyone has an ideal. As teenagers it´s the pop/rock/rap star whose poster in on the wall. As an adult it may be Angelina Jolie or Orlando Bloom but we all have an ideal. 

Easter has been just wonderful here. The weather is finally warm and we´ve done a lot of cycling. You may remember one of my very early posts about needing a gel covering for my saddle in addition to a sheepskin covering. Well now I think I need another couple of coverings! I wonder if I could attach a pillow. I´m serious about this. We cycle for a couple of hours and every now and then I have to stand up on the pedals just to relieve my you-know-what. Everything is so beautiful now that the trees and flowers are in blossom. The tree outside our apartment was literally, one day covered in buds, the next coverd in leaves. It´s hard to believe that just a couple of months ago everything was under a blanket of snow.

Just briefly going back to German TV, on one of the talk shows they focussed on fashion and I learned that the type of trousers worn by rappers is called ´hiphopperhose´here. Isn´t that wonderful?

While I´m at it, am I the only one tempted to pull up those dreadful pants which are routinely around teens hips? Why they think having their underwear on show for all the world to see is beyond me. I have to stop now before I go onto that classic sign of getting old ´the music just sounds like boom, boom, boom to me.´

I just read in interesting article, written by a man, about what makes a real man. Here are my thoughts.

A real man:

takes out the garbage/trash without being asked to.

knows that sometimes a cuddle is just a cuddle.

doesn´t hog the bedclothes.

isn´t afraid to say ´sorry´.

surprises you with little gifts just because he wants to.

can admit he´s lost.

isn´t afraid to cry in front of you.

protects you.

understands that once a month you´re going to be a hellcat and does what he can to make it easier on both of you.

cooks dinner occasionally.

does the dishes.

puts the toilet seat down.

changes the empty toilet roll (am still hoping one of these exists).

can admit he loves the film Casablanca as much as you do.

doesn´t drop his clothes on the floor (still hoping again).

gives you a sleepy smile in the morning.

will let you play with his ties (hee hee!).

will find the perfect answer to that no win question ´does this make me look fat?´

also knows the answer to ´which dress should I buy?´is ´both´.

has the respect of his partner and respects her in turn.

will kill cockroaches for you.

won´t roll his eyes when you go ga-ga over a kitten.

understands that dogs makes you nervous.

knows that both of you need space from time to time.

is comfortable with who he is.

It's common here in Europe to ride bikes to get about. Now that the weather is getting warmer, lots of people are starting to cycle again. Essen is just a profusion of yellow - there are daffodils everywhere! That's got nothing to do with bikes, I just thought I'd share it with you.

When I lived in Ravenna, Italy, the school I worked for provided us with bikes. The road system in Ravenna is crazy. There's a giant ring road around the city and it's difficult to drive into the centre so in order to get from a to b we could either walk or cycle. Even in winter cycling was still an option as the weather wasn't too bad. So, one night, I was at a bar with some friends - I seemed to spend a lot of my time in Italy in bars. I think my poor liver will be forever grateful to me for moving to Germany where the wine isn't that wonderful and I've never had a taste for beer anyway. As we were leaving, a witty English ex-pat commented that our bikes looked like they'd come straight from WW2 and were something that the French Resistance might have used. That of course fired off my fertile imagination and ever afterwards when I was cycling at night I had these wonderful romantic notions of me being a brave Resistance operative, cycling to deliver coded messages or to meet Allied personnel who were stranded behind enemy lines. The only thing is, in Italy they had the partisans who liked to faff about in the forests. I'm sorry but I don't do forests. I couldn't imagine anything worse than being outside in all weathers - rain, snow, heat, mud - and when did they actually get to wash themselves? The very idea of going without a shower for months on end is just anathema to me. I think I would have given myself up just for the chance to have a bath and a change of clothes! At least when I fantastised on my bike I knew that after I completed my mission I could go home to my rustic French house where a good carafe of red wine would be waiting for me along with a freshly baked baguette. Yes, I know these should be bought early in the morning but it's my fantasy and I want to have a freshly baked baguette at midnight, thank you very much. Then I could wash the dirt and muck off before climbing into my old fashioned doublebed, snuggle under the crisp, white sheets and drift off to sleep, happy in the knowledge that another mission had been successfully completed. I had outwitted the enemy once again.

I don't have fantasies like this in Germany. I guess it would be politically incorrect to do so, huh? But if I ever move to France, I can play at being Michelle, the leader of the French Resistance, from that old British TV series 'Allo 'Allo whose catchphrase was 'listen very carefully, I shall say this only once.'

From one brave fighter to another - bonne chance.