From 642 Tiny Things to write about (by the San Francisco Writer's Grotto

Consider your oldest friendship. Describe how you could destroy it in five minutes. 
How you destroy all your relationships. By being brutally and irretrievably honest. No, really, think about it, it sounds terrible, but we know it's true. 

You made the first machine that turns water into gold. You've got one minute to pitch investors on what your machine is. Go. 
This machine turns water into gold and if you invest, I will be so insanely rich that I can make you insanely rich, too. 
(Is there more to say???) 

You get home and your spouse says, "We need to talk." The first thing that flashes through your mind is...
What flashes through everybody's mind, I assume. "Uh oh, what did he do" or "Uh oh, how did he find out..." 

What do the post-it-note remainders say on the desks of the following people: 

The President of the United States 
Don't worry, you won't be president much longer. 

Dumbledore 
I have to lay out a ridiculously complex and intricate plan for Harry which will miraculously still work out although it relies a lot on people showing up in the right moment and co-incidences. But do not tell him, it would be too simple. 

God 
Ask the devil why he has abandoned hell and runs for president in the United States. 

Your favourite part of your lover's body 
Seriously??? Er, his eyes...
No, I actually love every part of him except for his toes because two of them are half grown together and it freaks me out. 
​

​

Goodness, what a devastating week!!! 
Well, actually it wasn't so bad except for the fact that Britain made a completely wrong decision (in my opinion). But don't worry, I will not wear you down by elaborating on why I think so and my reasons for having voted Remain if I had been given the chance. I believe there is enough opinion-sharing going on in...well, everywhere. The only thing I want to say is that Nigel Farage is an insensitive idiot. Saying the Leave Campaign was successful "without a single bullet being fired" after MP Jo Cox was literally shot with a bullet for believing the UK would be better off staying in the EU is just beyond shameless. 
Regarding my personal reasons, I can only say that I feel very scared, being a non-British person wanting to live and work in the UK and can just hope that this political twist will not squander my dreams. 

Speaking of squandering dreams...I went to the Palace Theatre in Shaftesbury Avenue today and the Harry Potter fans among you will already know where I am heading with this...yes, I tried the impossible: getting return tickets for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. I was there much earlier today than last week and, still, there was already a long queue for return tickets. I queued nevertheless, because you never know...
While waiting I had very entertaining conversations with a New Zealander and two Americans who were equally obsessed Harry Potter fans. At least we suffered in company. 
But do not feel too sorry for me. On Thursday, they released further tickets for August and September and I could secure a ticket for beginning of August, so I will see it in only a bit more than a month anyway. And besides, reading the script first will allow my imagination run wild before spoiling it with already existent pictures of the play (at least that is what I tell myself to stop the tears). 
And speaking of theatre, last weekend I went to see the musical Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was a colourful, magical, funny and slightly racist spectacle which is definitely worth seeing in case you should be in London. I went with N and her boyfriend and we had a great time, especially when the Bavarian boy, Augustus Gloop, came on stage, representing Bavarians as a retarded, sausage-devouring, dim-witted and lederhosen-wearing people with nothing better to do than drink beer and eat sausages and chocolate. Additionally, there was this black girl singing clearly jazz and soul influenced songs, but that's another story...
It has, actually, been a really musical-ish time lately. Recently, N and I went to see the Frozen sing-a-long-a (the extra a is no mistake, it's really called like this) in the Two Screen Cinema at Leicester Square. You will probably now think it was only singing along the Frozen songs, but I can assure you it was so much more! 
A crazy (and clearly gay) guy introduced the movie and there were all sorts of accessories to be used during the movie: a white coaster which we were required to wave whenever it snowed (which was A LOT), a rattle for clattering teeth (also a lot) and some other things. Furthermore, we were allowed - no, specifically required - to wolf-whistle, scream, boo, cheer and shout out inappropriate comments about what was going on during the movie. You have to imagine a room of about thirty adults going cuckoo about Frozen and booing whenever Hans or the other mean guy entered the screen. It was crazy and one of the most fun nights I have ever had (is that sad?). 

Cultural stereotyping is mainly considered as a bad thing - very close to the border of racism, some might even say. However, the most prominent stereotypes flickered into life for a reason - because they are true. Of course, you can never apply a stereotype to every person and it is the least thing I want to do, but I cannot deny that there are some quirky habits of the British I came to notice which most might relate to a stereotype. 

Weather
For instance, the weather. The British weather is, of course, infamous for being - well, terrible. This, however, is a stereotype I can easily counter-argue. Yes, it is very volatile and rains a lot, but I grew up in Austria and encountered only little difference (though, I have been told that it gets more "British" the further north you go...); however, what I noticed lately is that the British are not only exposed to inconsistent weather, but they also have to talk about it all the time. Naturally, weather is something you start talking about if feeling uncomfortable around people and have no clue what else to talk about, but the British take it to a new level (especially as the weather changes every five minutes, which enables you to talk about it even more).
Every day when I meet mothers of other children, they discuss the weather - or rather complain about it. The weather is predominant in every conversation and mainly complained about. Either it is too hot, too close, too rainy, should rain more, should be warmer, etc, etc, etc...
Another quirky thing to add here, is the British weather forecast. Of course, predicting the future (which meteorologists technically do) is really hard, but when you go to the BBC British weather forecast website, you simply have to laugh. There are weather predictions like "Later on, there presumably might be some showers with sunshine and snow in between", so shortly, "Anything is possible, we suck at our job." Here a real weather summary for tonight. I highlighted all the hedges and ambivalent information: " Residual thundery showers mostly dying out, although the odd heavy shower may linger through the night. Isolated mist/fog patches may form in any clearer spells." Then just take put your umbrella and hope for the best! 

​A sandwich a day keeps my appetite away
Another stereotype I encountered to be true. British people would convert ANYTHING into a sandwich if possible. They eat them every day, whenever possible and don't seem to get fed up with them. When you go to a supermarket there is an array of different sandwiches on offer to please every taste. For lunch, they love their sandwiches and don't mind eating the same sandwich for lunchtime every single day, as it seems. I mean, British are not stereotyped as having much taste anyway (the stereotype that British food sucks, I can only share in some parts, mostly it's pretty OK, but, I mean Marmite, are you serious?), but eating the same sandwich every day should even deter the lowest ranks of food-lovers. 

The Worst Toilet Paper and Flushes 
England's bathrooms do not have the most pristine reputation anyway; however, I noticed that most people seem to have an aversion to buy proper toilet paper.
In Austria, you have four-ply toilet paper in various colours, sometimes even with nice short poems on them. Wiping your butt becomes a luxurious and comforting experience whereas cheaper toilet paper (which is so thin that you wonder whether you should use it at all, as it hardly makes any difference) is only used in public facilities and cheap hotels. Here in the UK, however, I have encountered that even in posh family homes, you can primarily find thin, cheap toilet paper which is neither a blessing for your arse, nor your hands. Why they might use such rubbish toilet paper might be in connection with the next thing I noticed. British toilets predominantly have terrible flush systems, if you can call them flushes at all. Mostly, the toilet will only gurgle for a while before leaving the to-be-flushed-paper exactly where it was before. Moreover, the flushes are often really difficult to use and you need to hold on to them until the paper is gone. In Austria, normally a little touch on the flush suffices to swallow down the paper and the poo in one gurgle - well, different cultures, different toilet systems. 

It's Toast, not Bread 
The next and last point for today relates to the Sandwich discussion. When I came to the UK, I soon realised that there were only two things I sorely missed from Austria: toilet flushes and the political situation. No, just kidding, don't know why the political system came into my mind when I was talking about toilet flushes...
No, it's really toilet flushes and bread. I really miss proper bread! It is inasmuch funny, as the west of Austria - where I lived - has the reputation of having bad bread compared to the east of Austria (like Vienna) but it is still Bread Mecca compared to Britain. The British people I have met so far consider toast with some seeds in it as proper bread. Well, Brits, let me tell you this: It's toast, not bread. Real bread actually crunches when you squeeze it and smells when you get it out of the bread bin. It tastes of something without a spread on it already and bread that is so soggy that you cannot spread butter on it without ruining the bread, is no bread. It should go in the bin - just the bin.  

From 642 tiny things to write about (San Francisco writer's grotto) 

A Sympathy Card to the Devil 

Dear Devil, 

Many will claim you do not deserve any such thing as a sympathy card, but I think different. Your job must be even harder than God's (especially as he gets at least cherished for his work, whereas you get condemned). 
It must be difficult to be the distributor of misery, frustration and desperation; however, this might help you cherish your position. All the light in the world can only be appreciated by the darkness you provide, so if it wasn't for you, there would be no such thing as good or evil. 
Being a middle child, I can also understand the concept of jealousy and can imagine that God being praised and adored will only add to your foul mood. It must be hard to be the chosen one for evil, rather than good, but you might think it is more fun. Seducing people, have power over their misery and causing havoc all over the world doesn't sound like a too bad leisure time activity compared to always having to be understanding, forgiving and wise. So, don't sulk over your position and keep doing an evil job because although evil hurts, it is also necessary to keep the balance. 

All the best (or worst), 
​Angie 

 What a week it has been! 
My man came here and we had a wonderful time together. 
On Saturday, we went to London to climb The Shard and I must say, I was quite disappointed. I know The Shard is the tallest building in Europe, but I didn't really feel a significant difference to other towers I have climbed before...though, my man insists he felt the building swaying (he should watch his alcohol consum, just a suggestion...). 
No, it is really tall and probably my disappointment stems from it not being a very sunny day, which dramatically limited our view; however, I definitely do not think it's worth 30 pounds, so if you are in London, spend your money on better sights like Madame Tussaud's, the Dungeons, Tower, etc, etc, etc 
We also went to Camden Market and my man loved it (there is a lot of food there, so he can only love it). 
Sunday morning we headed off to Chepstow, a picturesque little town just across the border to Wales. When I booked it, I wasn't aware of it being in Wales and was therefore even more exhilarated, as I can now tick off Wales on my UK list (there is only Nothern Ireland left now). 
You might wonder why I chose a destination in Wales, three hours away from where I am located. Well, as usual with me, there is a simple reason for that. Next to Chepstow is the little town of Tutshill, also known as the place where JK Rowling lived a couple of years during her childhood. We passed the house in which she lived and visited the graveyard directly next to it. 
The area there was amazing. Close by is the Forest of Dean in which we wandered for about three hours before we reached Tintern - a boring, kind of ugly conglomeration of houses amidst mountains. However, there is also Tintern Abbey, an impressive, deserted monastic ruin built in 12th century and rebuilt in the 13th century. There is also a myth about it related to the Devil's Pulpit, an impressive rock on the hill, overlooking Tintern. It says that on this pulpit, the devil ruled over the village, trying to lure the monks out of the monastery and their religious path; however, he never succeeded. In 1536, Henry VIII dissolved it and the monks deserted the abbey - I wonder what this story tells us about Henry VIII...
Before I am going to tell you a bit more about the landscape, I want to give my reviews to the hotel we stayed in the BroadRock Accomodation in Woodcroft (http://www.broadrock.co.uk/). Initially, we wanted to stay for one night, but as soon as we had set foot in this wonderful hotel, we decided to stay for two nights instead. 
The hotel is not just a bed to sleep, but it is a place to be. There is a kitchen where you can cook, a game room, a living room and the rooms themselves are amazing: a cosy, snug bed, a gigantic freestanding bath tub and a ginormous shower in which we both comfortably had enough space (we were in the St Arvans Room, I cannot promise that all rooms will be like that).
There are places where I would come back if it was just for the hotel, and this is such a case. It was really great and the host, Richard, was friendly, showed us what we could do and even drove us to be bus top when we departed. Full marks! 
Behind the hotel, there was a little path through the forest down to Chepstow, which was both magical and creepy. As Woodcroft is on a hill, you could see down the cliffs to the river, which was an amazing view. Chepstow, apart from snugly pubs and cafés, features an old castle with the oldest castle doors of Europe, dating back 800 years! Unfortunately, we didn't have the time to explore the castle due to time shortage, but if you happen to be in Chepstow, you should definitely go there and tell me about it! 

When out trip to Wales had successfully come to its end, we prepared for Tuesday, Harry Potter Studios Leavsden. I know, you must think, hey, haven't you been there like three weeks ago? Yes, you're right, but my man wanted to go (and whom am I kidding, I wanted to go again, too), especially as there was a special attraction on. For only limited time, the studios opened the Dursley House for the public and we could sneak-peek inside. As always, the studio tour was great and peeking inside the Dursley's house was a special treat (not that it is such a beautiful house, but being where no one else has been before, adds a special kick to it).