Eine Wochenende in Muenchen
I would write this post in German, except that I feel a little bit rusty at the moment. I have admittedly been getting a bit of practice in this week, but I still find it shocking how much of a language it is possible to forget once you don’t use it for a period of months. I know that all my German knowledge has not seeped out of my brain, that it is in fact just resting in a dark recess somewhere, but it is requiring conscious effort to pull it back out to the front again. So many words are getting stuck on the tip of my tongue 
Munich is probably the most expensive city in Germany but also the most beautiful and exciting, and I am determined to drag Babel there one day soon, although preferably in the summer. I am going there with my family tomorrow for a mad Christmas market visit, and am very excited 
A full blog report on exactly how much delicious German food I managed to cram into one weekend will follow at some point next week, but not Monday because I’m seeing Babel for his birthday.
I’m almost as excited about that, as I’ve just been writing his card and wrapping his presents. He actually already has his main present, but I’ve got some smaller things for him to unwrap too. I was just trying to decide which to give for his birthday and which for Christmas, and decided to go with more for birthday than Christmas, because birthdays seem more important somehow and my mother already made a disapproving comment about how much money I appeared to have spent on his Christmas present. His Christmas present actually wasn’t expensive. His birthday present was, but as far as she’s concerned I’ve bought him a subscription to the Economist at a reduced rate. Which I actually have, and must endeavour to remember to give to him. But it didn’t seem fair to call that his present as I partly only paid for it because I have aspirations to read it 
I was also just trying to write a Christmas card for Babel’s parents, which proved to be rather taxing on the spur of the moment. I wanted it to have an apologetic tone, and was so distracted by the problem of how to fit a random apology for something which happened 12 months ago into the two inches of space available on a Christmas card, that I accidentally addressed it wrongly. That is to say, I addressed it to his Mom and Dad, as opposed to his Dad and Mom. I am perfectly aware that convention demands the man’s name go first, but I make a point of always defying it and putting the female name first because I’ve always regarded it as a sexist and archaic idea. Only in this instance I had intended to be good and put the name of Babel’s Dad first, because it strikes me that he might be the sort of person who would expect his name to come first. Oh dear I have bought them a present though, a little book of quotations by Mother Teresa. I haven’t had time to read it all but I had a quick flick and it seemed fairly inter-denominational. Babel might choose to re-wrap it though, because I haven’t done a very good job 
In other news, I went shopping with a friend tonight for party dresses. That is to say, my friend wanted a party dress and purchased one in Monsoon for a whopping £120. I do not want a party dress and have not purchased one. I did start the day open to the idea, because I need something to wear for the work party next week, and I could have reused it for the IS. I do own a dress, but it’s a summer dress so it looks rather light and not suitable for Christmas. All the dresses in the shops are horrible though! I don’t want glitter or sequins or sparkle. I don’t want to wear red or pink or that hideous shiny shade of purple which seems to be all the range right now. I don’t want a dress which is very short, nor one designed to show a cleavage I don’t possess. I don’t want a ‘wow’ sort of dress which makes me noticeable because I don’t have a ‘wow’ sort of body to go with it. If I have to wear a dress – and this is a big condescension already – it needs to be an unobtrusive sort of style which will enable me to blend in with the wallpaper if I stand still enough. I did see a couple which were passable, but I’m not sure they were different enough from my existing dress to be worth the fifteen quid they would set me back in Primark. I dunno, I’m gonna think about it. I sensibly ought to try my existing dress on to see if it still fits but I don’t want to, because I’ve put on weight and it would be depressing if it didn’t. Plus I might get stuck it in and then the fire brigade would need to come and extract me. Hmmm… sounds like it could be a plan to win the catastrophe-themed dressing-up competition at the IS 
I did make some purchases though. I used up some outstanding Marks and Spencers vouchers to buy a skirt, of all things. It’s a nice long, wintery sort of skirt and I thought buying it would appease my friend from work, who I only agreed to go shopping with because she’s leaving on Friday. Unfortunately I failed, because she cunningly noted that I had no suitable footwear to go with it. It’s the sort of skirt that ought to be worn with boots of a brown nature, and there’s nothing this particular friend likes more than shopping for footwear. I can hereby confirm that my legs are a funny shape It doesn’t matter how comparatively un-fat I am, my legs are sort of chubby and don’t conform to the leg shape prescribed by most manufacturers of boots. There were some nice ones in Primark which were stretchy enough to fit, but they had a heel which made it impossible for me to walk. I need flat shoes In the end we found some in the New Look sale which almost fit if you don’t scrutinise my legs too closely…
I could continue this fascinating monologue on fashion indefinitely, but I’ve just realised I’m getting up in five hours. Eeek!