German Sausage

This was my last weekend of absolute isolation and privacy, so I decided to make the most of it and planned to do nothing. However. Kimbo phoned me and demanded that I accompany her and Wallnut, her boyfriend, to a Music Festival. Awesome, thinks I. Until I got there. It was at the Lutheran Church. Creepy first and foremost, because you have to walk through the cemetary to get there.

I hate cemetaries. Once, as a little girl, we were running through gravesites, looking for Easter Eggs* and my foot sunk through a freshly dug grave. Obviously not far enough to touch a coffin, but my foot was stuck properly and my brothers all surrounded me and taunted that the zombie was reaching up for my foot and was going to drag me back to his coffin for all eternity. I freaked out completely and in my terror, ended up twisting my ankle in the great effort of getting my leg out of the soft dirt. For some reason, ever since then, I get goose bumps and shivers whenever I go near dead people.

Once inside the church hall, there were tables of ten set out, and unfortunately for me I had been placed at a seperate table to Kimbo. I realised immediately this would not be one of those get up and dance music festivals. It was a German Idols Talent Show wannabe! Usually I wouldn’t feel intimidated by meeting nine strangers who I would be observing the show, and later eating dinner, with until I saw my guests.

To my left, Bernie the Butcher, who was trying very hard to convince me he was not into this evening at all by grunting at the oompa band** and sniggering along with me as the Tenor did his best opra impersonation.

On my right was a very interesting man, who called himself Fred, although his placement card on the table said Friederich. Before the Paster could even say grace, he loudly grunts and digs out a sausage from his pocket. I nearly had my eyes implode, I honestly thought he was giving himself some loving right there at the table! He slams the sausage down on the table, cuts it into little pieces and garlic breathes all over me as he offers it around to everyone.

I kept glimpsing around and straining my neck to find Kimbo and give her SOS eye signals but eventually gave up as she was nowhere to be seen. Just as I had resigned myself to watch the show amongst my companions, she taps me on the shoulder and hands me a beer shandy*** and grabs me by my arm as we shuffle passed the German folk and sneak into the back kitchen. There we found comfortable crates, more beer shandys and our cigarettes. We ended up getting a tad pished as we sat there for the rest of the evening, out of sight from Wallnut and his German friends and family, only to go back in for dinner which was served with lots of purple looking cabbage.

If it hadn’t been for Kim, beer shandys & the lovely deserts them Hitler descendants make, I would not have appreciated the whole scene at all.

* Easter Egg Hunt, compiled by the company my Mom had worked for back then, they made it a family affair, one of those that has you driving to one spot after the next looking for clues to the eventual treasury of chocolatey goodness

** The Oompa band comsists of about fifteen fat old german men, bespectacled and tummies a-hanging o’er the ol’ belt, blowing into golden trumpets etc. while trying to compose themselves and pretend they arent about to keel over from exertion of blowing an insturment.

*** Have you ever noticed how only German Churches indorse beer? I remember back on my parents Happy Clappy Religious days, alcohol was taboo of note. Cokes and lemonade were all you had available to you. Except for the priestly types who snuck a few and slogged them back while hiding in the bathroom (True story. Saw it with my own eyes).

**** There was no fourth asterix in the post above, but incidentally, have you ever noticed what WEIRD food those Germans eat? Seriously, purple cabbage?! and not the natural reddish coloured that you get in Woolies, I’m talking brighter than Barney the Dinosaur with tie-dye shades of blue in it!