We both suspected that she really was an alien at different points during the movie.
When Teddy exploded in the wardrobe, I wondered for a moment whether either he’d detonated the vest on purpose in an attempt to kill the aliens on whatever ship he thought he was being teleported to, or she’d somehow triggered the vest to trick him. The latter theory was ruled out by the fact she probably wouldn’t have done that in her actual teleportation wardrobe.
At school I luxuriated in not trying very hard and doing alright anyway. Teachers called me “gifted” – a term that was, incredibly, written into education regulations at the time. They also called me lazy, insisting I had untapped potential if I would only apply myself.
Now I’m thirty going on thirty-one, almost a decade into a career with which I have a fraught relationship. I want change, and to get it I need to grow. Materially, I need to learn things: languages, skills. This year has been about discovering how much learning potential I’ve lost since those school days. What would have snapped into place effortlessly as a kid now refuses to take hold. My work ethic has improved a hundredfold, but my ability to learn and think has degraded even more.
While I claim that the reason I haven’t emerged as the foremost British emigré writer of our times because I simply don’t have time between watching movies and drinking beer: Franz Kafka wrote stories on the side, at night, when he was tired. Enjoy this profile not of his literature, but his day job: “I am more interested in his insurance affairs.”
The church bells in this place, my god. They toll for 10 solid minutes every week night and for God knows how long on a Sunday morning. For a short time today there was a relentless tolling of the bells and a old timey horn honking at once. Chaos.
This sort of thing is charming and atmopheric out in the countyside where the sounds have space to drift from afar. They are apocalyptic in the city where people live next to, under, on, and indeed inside the belfry. We’re all heathens here anyway.
When the sun came out in Berlin, people started climbing into the canals in their inflatable boats. When I rode my bike over Elsenbrücke, I even saw them floating along the Spree in their dinghies, with a bag of beers and a fishing hat. One evening, I saw a lone paddle boarder in the middle of that wide river.
This morning I was sitting at my desk with my eyes half closed. I started to yawn and I stretched my arms out and back. Something in my chest, around my sternum, made a dull pop. I didn’t realise I had anything to pop in there.
The last couple of weeks have been full of great new things, and I’ve totally worn me out. We moved into our new, more permanent home in Berlin. We’ve had lots of help with the entire process, and we’ve thrown money at the appropriate parts to try and make things easier. I am still completely wiped.
We’ve been living here together for a couple of weeks. It’s a quiet Sunday in our place in the city, the first of its kind. We found our long-term apartment and we’ll be there soon. We’re engaged; everybody knows. We made sure of that. We’re going to get married. Did you hear, we’re going to get married.
Roots are going down. We have our grocery shops, our first couple of bars and cafes that might one day be considered our places. Most of them are going down in Rixdorf, a village in Berlin, they say. On Sunday the church bell tolls in the square and children in all-in-one snow suits toddle along the pavements. People bundle out of bakeries.
I’m leaving London after living here for half a dozen years. I’ve been too busy with the leaving to feel sentimental about it but I’m making myself reflect. I used to find myself arguing London’s case all the time. Now I’m ready to leave it and barely look over my shoulder. I tried very hard to get here. I built a life around keeping hold of my perch here, so I have passion for the place. When I first moved here I wasn’t alone, but I left the quiet county I grew up in for the opposite end of the country.
We are moving to Berlin. I’ve been making that statement of intent to anybody who will listen for the past few months. I think (hope) we’re past the stage where I need to make that statement over and over to make it happen now. It has an inertia of its own. I have a job out there. Sarah has a job out there. I think it’s happening. By the end of January 2023, we should be living in Berlin.
Take these for the pain
twice daily after eating
Take these for a headache
and these for your tired legs
Take these for a pain in the neck
in the mornings
Take these if you miss your train
And you can’t see the funny side
Take these if you suffer
Take these for loss
or a twinge in the heart
Take them in the evening
Stand by a window you can’t see out of
Take with water and look into the dark
For as long as you can bear