Thursday, September 19, 2013

Greeks, Bailout, Don’t mention the war and Rain

I had a dental appointment today and took that bastard bicycle  ‘Die Hard’ and to just really piss down on my parade, it started to rain again just for a change because the bloody stuff has not stopped for over a week. How much goddamn water can still be up there?

I thought this climate change malarkey meant we would soon be living like in the Kalahari – cooking away and dying of thirst. No chance of that, we will drown just walking to the bus stop (which promptly sprays you from top to bottom as it pulls in).

So well wet and not feeling to good at the way the dentist was explaining my predicament, I had a jolly old panic attack. The poor woman thought I was about to kick-it. So did I. So would anyone that had been told that most of their teeth need to be removed and replaced with… Ah, now we come to the crux of the matter –money!

That is that stuff that doesn’t grow on trees and if it did in this place, it would just be a sodden mess hanging limply from a wet stick, not even worth giving to some begging Greeks. (I suppose they could take the papier-mâché back to where they come from and try drying it out and sticking the notes back together. A bit like their economy at the moment.

Remember that old sketch in Fawlty Towers and Basil keeps telling his staff that Germans will be staying so - ‘Don’t mention the war!’. Well that is off the menu - now if you want to hack Germans off - never mention Greeks and Bailout in a sentence – you could start another war!

So back to my rather large problem and considering a future of supping chicken soup through a straw for the rest of my miserable existence, the kind lady explained she will make a plan and come up with a bill that will stop my heart. Exactly how much the German health system will cough up doesn’t look too good as they gave all the money away so the Greeks can have solid gold fillings!

As I crawled out the place, blubbering and moaning into the rain again, I had in my hand a piece of paper (not that one, signed by you know who - that did start a war [Don’t mention the war!], it is a train ticket. She felt sorry for me and printed it out as I don’t have one at home.

The train is taking me to… Vienna! A few reasons why I chose to visit there was, firstly, I conned a nice young lady to let me sleep on a mattress in her bathroom for FREE. It bad enough forking out a fortune for the ticket when the dosh should be really being put aside for a rainy day like chewing on plastic teeth. Secondly, I have never been there and it is supposed to be very lovely. And thirdly - Am I glad to be getting out of this one horse town where even that nag keeled over from boredom.

Unfortunately, judging by the weather report I will be singing ‘Vienna, Vienna, under my umbrella’, but better there than here. The train rides sounds quite nice also. I switch in Salzburg.

So I must start to throw a few things together. I will of course make sure I have my Rhodie and PATU Sweatshirts from The Bush War days (Don’t mention the war!).
What else? Umbrella, raincoat, wellingtons, rubber trousers, rubber hat, rubber gloves, rubber rucksack, rubber socks and jocs, snorkel and goggles.

I must check that my MP3 player has plenty cool vibes, Supertramp – ‘Its raining again’, ‘Ella Ella under my sodding umbrella’ by dunno; have been deleted. Adel’s ‘Set fire to the rain’ (more like seriously torch the stuff), is okay.

I suppose a bit of clean up wouldn’t hurt. Just in case a bad man breaks in to do some thieving and promptly to fall over some empties and break some teeth. Then I land up being sued and coughing up for two pairs of gnashers. (Or we could share them. I use of during the day and he wears them when on nightshift.

Not that there is a lot to steal in my flat, unless the widows and front door count, but they don’t belong to me. There is a tiny Hi Fi and a small TV. He can also help himself to a book some one gave me as a goodbye present, called
How to make new enemies and lose old friends.

I haven’t bothered reading it, sounds naff and anyway - as if I need guiding in that direction.

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