I only had one thought: „Whatever you do, don‘t fall over.“ Even though I was concentrating on the task at hand, I was acutely aware of my wider surroundings. It was early December and I was up high on the fells in the Lake District. The wind was blowing from my left at a steady 70 kmh but gusting up to over 100 kmh at times. The temperature was below zero and I had a river to cross via some wobbly stones. Three of my friends were already on the other side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that one of them had his camera up to film me in action. I had two walking sticks and plotted the positions my boots would take to carry me across with no drama.

Anybody involved in the modern world of big business will know that companies spend a lot of time defining their „purpose“. It‘s not a bad idea as it helps employees with a myriad of different priorities at least an idea of why the company thinks it has a right to exist. When I started working, the openly declared goals of companies was to increase shareholder value. Now that we seem to be collectively ashamed of capitalism, the explanations needed to become more „nuanced“.

The search for a purpose has also spilled over into our private lives. You’ve read it before. The tearful heat-winner on Britain‘s got Talent spouting „if you have a purpose and believe in yourself, nothing is impossible“. Unfortunately it is also entirely possible that they‘ll lose in the next round and wind up 5 years later singing in the „Journey to the Stars“ review on the Hull to Rotterdam P&O Ferry.

Talking of which, I have just been on said ferry, returning from a trip to my home county of Yorkshire. The musical entertainment was, as ever, a bit „Phoenix Nights“ but we still enjoyed the crossing and even had a little chat to the singer, which got me thinking about purpose again. He was not the example in the paragraph above. In fact, I think he was pretty happy with his „life choices“ – and a nice bloke to boot, even if he did sound a bit like Kermit. Anyway, I‘ll get back to purpose at the end of the blog.

We had a great time in Yorkshire. Alongside helping Mum sort out some stuff around the house, we had lots of time with family and friends to catch up, enjoy a drink together and tell each other old stories. Ariane and I also went on a couple of longer walks in the Yorkshire Dales, culminating in our tackling of the Three Peaks.

Seeg is a village in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps and the first place I lived in Germany. I went there in the summer of 1991 to visit my brother, who was already a resident there, fell in the love with place and have thought of it as my second „Heimat“ ever since. Two years ago we bought a flat there and as we get older we envisage spending more time in Seeg and less time in Schönaich (the suburb of Stuttgart where we currently live).

I have just started a 3 month break from work. My employers have, after 25 years, given me some extended time off – for which I am very grateful. I’m only on day three but it’s already been a pleasure to spend a little more time with Ariane and my daughters. Having some time off work has also freed up some brain-space so that I can get back to writing…

Last year we joined the dreaded “second-home” brigade and bought a holiday / potential retirement apartment in a village called Seeg at the foot of the Bavarian Alps. Seeg was the first place I lived when I moved to Germany in 1991 and worked for the local paragliding manufacturer, Firebird Sky Sports. As a wide-eyed, paragliding-obsessed young chap in my early 20s I immersed myself in the local scene and quickly fell in love with the area. The mountains, the people, the amiable beer culture and the general warm welcome I was given, made it easy. My wife, Ariane, grew up just down the road in a similar landscape so it made sense for us to set up our weekend retreat here over 30 years later.

Brexit

I’m currently on a flight from Stuttgart to Amsterdam. Easy check-in, scan the boarding pass and onto the plane. Out of habit, I was ready to show my passport but of course this wasn’t necessary as Amsterdam is in the Schengen area. So easy! Lovely EU rules. It got me thinking…

Back in 2020, Germany got a lot right during the first wave of Covid. We had infections, but the levels were moderate and the health system coped comfortably with the spring surge. We had a tracking app up and running quickly and just 4 weeks into the first lockdown, the rules were being relaxed so the cafes and beer gardens could stay full. Most foreign press coverage was positive with a hint of jealousy at the inevitability of Germany “getting it right again”.

In 1992, the rapper Ice Cube released the single “It was a Good Day”. It describes a good day for him in South Central LA. I always liked the tune in the background and the lyrics are quite clever as he describes a perfect day consisting of winning at basketball and dice, “meeting” various women, drinking at the wheel but not being bothered by the police or rival gangs and not even having to use his assault rifle. We’ll assume he wasn’t glorifying the misogynistic gangster/pimp lifestyle but was using rap to create an irony-laden critique of the hopeless plight of the suppressed underclass.

It’s now been 9 weeks since the lockdown started, but we are now slowly being given our freedom back. Shops have been open for 2 weeks and last week even restaurants and bars were allowed to open – albeit with various restrictions. The main difference is now we must wear face-masks when we are in shops or moving about in bars and restaurants. When we sit down, then we can take the masks off. The “Maskenpflicht” (obligation to wear a mask) briefly sent the prices for masks sky-rocketing, but they have since plummeted back to normal levels. I have lots of masks now – our neighbour Susie kindly sewed one each for all the family, I had bought some at the chemists, and we ordered several thousand at work.

There are lots of speed cameras around Stuttgart. They take reasonably good black and white photos – of which I am frequently the subject. My girls have a laugh when another letter is delivered. I have a habit of stroking my chin like a pretentious lecturer when driving and this has been immortalized on film a few times. I am usually not speeding by too much and am proud to say I have no points on my licence but the cameras are everywhere and I struggle to keep track of the ever-changing speed limits.