You Must Be From Away

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The inordinately talented Beate Thiesmeyer and Michael Sälzer are currently in China as part of a select group of German ceramicists chosen to create works for the Ceramic Arts Centre in Fuping.

I helped Michael (who's become something of a mate over the last year or so) to set up a blog (www.keramixinchina.blogspot.com) to report on their progress.
In German, which is a shame, because Beate's a crash-hot journalist and she deserves a wider audience.

So I figured I'd use the internet kiosk in the Patients' Games and Reading Room here at the asylum to get up to speed.

Type in the URL and up flashes 'Access Denied – Objectionable Content'

It appears they've been using words like 'Great Wall of China' and 'Breakfast'

And – worst of all – 'Noodle Soup'.

They need to go and wash their mouths out with soap…….

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I don’t mind the sadistic physiotherapists here at the Karl Aschoff Rehab (no, this is nothing LIKE the Betty Ford Foundation and Amy Winehouse hasn’t been here either…) but the Universal Neuroton machine gives me the heebyjeebies….

They strap electrodes at either end of the incision (which I’ll admit looks more professional by the day) and crank up the voltage until your brain’s on the verge of being scrambled.

And leave you there for 10 minutes.

But it’s the bloke with the bolt through his neck and the big scar across his forehead who’s got me worried.

Igor, I think they call him….

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A week's a long time in politics. someone said. (Harold Wilson, I think.)

It's nothing compared with a week in hospital, even one with the excellent surgical staff and medical support people that you'll find at the Vincenz Hospital in Mainz.

It's not that the food's that BAD.

It's just that it's institutional catering, without a lot of fresh veges and an utter lack of seasoning or herbs.

This is what I'm going to do when I escape:

I'll get a ripe San Mazano tomato, still warm from the vine, tear up a
buffalo mozzarella into bite-sized pieces, glug some good olive oil over it all with a splash of balsamico from Chateau Canorgue, rip some fresh basil leaves on top with freshly ground pepper and sea salt

Thick slices of freshly baked ciabatta to mop up the plate.

Please excuse me while I go and wipe the saliva from my keyboard…..

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This turned up on the doorstep the other day from Sophie, my 8 year old friend from up the road.

Now wasn't that nice

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And some more.

If nothing else (and believe me, there's so much more…) you can rely on the Niklas family.

This is Christoph and Uschi's daughter Suzie with her 2 littlies, Lucy and Kalle, who popped in (and made serious dent in my secret hoard of bikkies)

No, they didn't specially drive all the way from Trier to see me, but they were in Mainz for the day and zipped over.

Now, wasn't that nice.

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In an attempt to flee the boredom and the constant moaning around here, Ms jb shot through to visit her girlfriend Gudrun (who's married to my ex-coworker Schnookie) the other day and came back with a Financial Times Weekend.

And so nicely wrapped, too, (although I'm pretty sure that was more Gudrun than Schnookie…..)

AND a piece of cheesecake.

Now, wasn't that nice.

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Here's something to while away the time.

Hobble along on your crutches to the lifts and press the button to go down to the ground floor.

Sod's Law has it that the first lift (out of four) to come will be the one furthest away from where you're standing.

Lurch over in its vague direction only to have the doors close in front of your nose.

Position yourself strategically and press the button again.

Lift comes, make a run for it (MAKE A RUN! What a fucking joke…) and miss it again.

We''ve now taken 2 lifts out of contention so it should a piece of cake, despite the fact that they're the furthest apart.

What happens?

Lift #1 turns up again….

At least it's giving me some exercise…