Simba, 1995-2010

Thank you for choosing to stay with us. 

You'll be missed.

An incredible story

The small, border village of Schönenbuch has suffered a high incidence of break-ins of late. Some say it coïncides with the abolition of border controls due to Schengen, but I'd say that's a post hoc, ergo propter hoc.

Anyway, here's the stupid story: There was an attempted break-in at my neighbours' house across the street yesterday night. Their house is secured by an alarm, which I heard going off, but didn't do anything about it because I thought it was a car alarm of one of the visitors they had earlier. I didn't realise that everybody had left, so I didn't care, and that was stupid of me because I could have and should have intervened.

But that's not the end of the story. Because of the aforementioned break-in activity, we often have a police patrol positioned behind the house to watch for suspect activity - so yesterday night. But they hadn't heard the alarm either! So there was in fact a police patrol less than 100 metres away from the attempted break-in, and the perpetrators are no worse for wear, except maybe for the thrill when the alarm went off! How embarrassing is that?! Touch wood, but I'm increasingly convinced that we would have had break-ins in my house a long time ago, were it not for the evil Laika!

Romani ite domum!

My nephew Tomi's other hobby horse on Swiss TV for your viewing pleasure ... enjoy!

Lili Z. Nix! Nix! Nix!

It's not often that I'm posting music videos, but my niece's (first ?) foray into that specific genre is definitely worth it! Hint: She's every bit as mad as she seems to be - have fun!

The Two of Us

My niece's new album is out: The Two of Us on her very own label Polly Maggoo Records. I think her style might be classified as punk rock, but I could be wrong, of course (I most probably am, anyway). I admit, I am struggling to get my auditory canals around it, which is not surprising as our tastes in music were always quite different. But this album is different somehow. Whereas I hitherto used to dismiss Lili's music as art of noise with barely any discernible structure (to me!), here she goes and produces something that is almost close to melodic! She ends the album in a rather chamber music inspired mood With a picture - genius! A pity it's not on her MySpace ...

Tales from the Emerald Isle

It's true, my blogging is getting lazy: It's over ten days that we've returned from the family trip to Ireland, the 1600+ pics have been distilled down to half that, about 250 of which have ended up in an iPhoto photo book (highly commendable!) which is already here, but I still haven't blogged about the trip in any detail. Given that I don't approve of the no time excuse as a matter of principle (it's always a question of priorities), I have nothing to hide behind other than that. Yet, here's Ireland redux in pictures.

Anyways, onwards to greener pastures, literally: Ireland is a fabulous destination for a family round trip. Here's the approximate route we took during our eight days. A word of caution is in order at this point: Don't be ambitious about the mileage you can do, many of the cross country roads are still charmingly scenic, which is a euphemism for narrow and somewhat bumpy, and don't rely to heavily on any one map. I brought my trusty TomTom, and yet we had to rely not only on C's navigational skills, but also on the occasionally rather epic directions of extremely helpful and friendly publicans. So, give yourself time - travelling Ireland is not a rushing matter. Also, make sure that you're fit: one of our drivers currently suffers from a herniation apparently contracted on the drive.

Our night quarters were, in order of sequence: Cabra Castle for one night, Dromoland Castle and Park Hotel Kenmare for two nights each, Waterford Castle and finally, Kilkea Castle. So, plenty of old stones, and yet, the experience was quite fresh everywhere. We were particularly surprised about the consistently high quality of the food everywhere - not to speak of the quantities. Obviously, the chefs cater mostly to Americans rather than French guests, even though the latter would hardly find anything to complain about, except for the over-priced wine list maybe. But then again, we were travelling with a wine expert, and Ireland is certainly not grape country. The altogether most outstanding experiences were to be had at Dromoland and Kenmare. Waterford shone with its Victorian infrastructure (sic!) and its high potential (meaning it has a bit of catching up to do), whereas Kilkea appeared a bit, erm, rustic?

Thus, we had a great impression of the spectacular beauty of the Irish countryside and its heritage. We did not get much exposure to modern Ireland and its contemporary culture, but that was not the purpose of the trip anyway. So there's something for next time, right?

Welcome, Anna!

I'm still working on clearing the backlog from my recent trip. So, here's a big one - or, a small one, as the case may be: A big welcome to Anna Elenie! My nephew R.'s and his partner A's little girl has entered the stage on 29 August already. More pictures of her are available in my flickr account (check out the sidebar), and hopefully soon on a blog of her own.

Bobby

It's a sad day. Just hours before my departure to the hitherto longest trip of my life, we had to decide to put down Bobby, our 16 years old dog. An open ulcer was just too much for her - and us. You were a great dog, Bobby, and you've instructed your successor well!

And now, I'll leave for Singapore until 30 August, and onwards to Seoul, for presentations in each city. I'll return on 7 September. Until then, my mobile phone gets diverted to the voicemail directly, which gets forwarded to my email, so don't worry if you cannot catch me immediately. More later ...

Quatorze juillet

What better way to while away a sweltering Sunday afternoon than going to the nicely air conditioned Fondation Beyeler to see the special exhibition about Edvard Munch which is on display for just another week? The exhibition assembles a great selection of works spanning all his life. And what an angst-ridden life that must have been - speak about inner demons. I was not aware that love, angst, death can be seen as a unity, but Edvard Munch clearly achieved that.

The previous evening was spent more unequivocally pleasantly. I've had C&R over for a nice barbecue that was started with a beautiful 1990 millésime and concluded with a much older Scotch to go with the fireworks to celebrate the French national holiday from the neighbouring French communities. A great evening that we vowed to repeat in following years.

Diary of a Greenhorn, Ch. 2

Here's another installment of nephew T.'s Playmobil western. It gets better from chapter to chapter! It's weird to recognise most of the voiceovers ...

Scientology & me

Well, not me personally, as I do not have any business with the devious & dangerous cult of Scientology myself, other than having lost a member of my extended family to its following. But you'll have to see the BBC's excellent eponymous documentary which tracks the unpleasant experience of the Beeb's John Sweeney when approaching Scientology critically. Up until now, I thought that, surely, urban lore about the cult's nature is overdone, but now I think it's even worse! Have a look at the list of celebrities associated with Scientology - I'll avoid their work going forward.

You can also watch the documentary in three installments on Youtube.

Lest I forget ...

how I spent my birthday this year! On the way back from Moscow, I realised that I hadn't even blogged about it - shame! My blogging becomes too patchy these days!

Anyways, I was in New York for some business on the day itself. The evening was spent in pleasant company at the Jazzgallery, a tiny downtown Manhatten place which I picked for the programme (a local trumpet player with band whose name escapes me now). It turned out that their style was a bit too - shall we say - experimental for my liking, but then again, this is East Coast stuff, I really should have known. Nevertheless, the atmosphere of the place fully made up for the lack of swing, or at least for my inability to recognise it. The gallery is located in a benignly neglected, quiet neighbourhood on the first floor above a bar. It seats maybe 60 people, most of whom appeared to be from the local conservatory, and there seems to be an occupied flat in a cubicle just inside the gallery - very homely.

My birthday did not go uncelebrated, though. It was made up for with a few good friends on the Friday following my return from NY. There's only a rare selection of pictures available of the occasion on my flickr account.

NOL

Or rather GNOL - Grandnephews online! This is the latest addition to the tribe - Loris Emanuel, and he's already got his own blog - welcome, and way to go!!!

Nephews online

Not only has nephew #1 just published the first installment of his latest Playmobil western, but nephew #2 has also entered the blogosphere a few days ago already, and has dared to only tell me about it yesterday. The cheek of the boy! At least his motive is transparent: There shall be a vessel for the forthcoming addition to his little family. Good luck for that!

Heroes

Here's me in an early display of heroic gallantry, protecting my little niece Lili against the fearsome beast that was our first dog Prinzli.

Aunt Emmi

This post is in loving memory of my late great-aunt Emmi. She was a robust woman who died a few years ago in her nineties, but her memory is still with us every day - during the cold season. She was an avid knitter, you see. Right on time for every Xmas, we received a huge parcel choke-full of hand-knitted socks and jumpers and one bar of chocolate each. Naturally, I was far more interested in the chocolate back then, but nowadays those hand-knitted socks of hers have their great comeback. Her colour scheme never was beyond doubt, I agree, and with the jumpers, it was outright criminal. Or perhaps it's just beyond all reasonable doubt ... anyway, whoever cares about the colour scheme when the socks are comfortable & warm is just envious! So, I'll beg your pardon in advance if my quirky choice of socks might offend your eye these days. Which reminds me of stupid Prince George's famous words in Blackadder: "Socks are like sex: tons of it about, and I never seem to get any!"