Love and Chaos Part 8(G) Daniel 1

2nd July 2021

Karl Liebknecht Strasse Berlin Mitte 1995. From the YouTube video Berlin 1995 Prenzlauer Berg & Mitte https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSEm2-4ZWEo&ab_channel=emil250

Part Eight. Berlin. October 1995

Daniel knew the days of Sawhead The Bear were numbered. Their manager had disappeared. The guitarist was having an affair with the bass player’s girlfriend. The drummer was simply on another planet. Daniel was the only one taking it seriously and was now being held back by their lack of ambition, enthusiasm and professionalism.

Daniel had gone to The Russians one Saturday afternoon, only to be told that there was no gig that night. Or, maybe there was, but no one knew, and it hadn’t been advertised.

“Didn’t you see Jake ?” Daniel asked Andrei.

“For sure, but he too drunk to talk. He keep say me what I do wrong, so I don’t listen. I play music very loud.”

“Shall we go now and ask ?”.

But there was no answer from either Andrei or Sascha.

“Fucking hell, I come all this fucking way and . . . where’s Boris ? Another fucker gone AWOL ?” Daniel knew better than to ask where Olga was.

“What the fuck’s wrong ?” Daniel asked, sick of the apathy. Sascha answered that they were tired of playing the same bar and the same songs. The night in the new squat bar was good, but . . .

“Fucking hell, all we gotta do is find new places, then. As for new songs, we have to fucking write them. I’ve got a bunch of new lyrics, but we never get around to fucking working on them. Let’s do one, now, come on, get your fucking bass on.”

“I don’t have any new music,” Andrei said.

“Fuck all that shit, I’ve got a bass line. I’ve got this whole new song worked out. Listen,” and Daniel opened a notebook and read aloud,

The rat in the corner is my only guest
‘Cause the mice have split and the cat gone quit
I guess you could say things ain’t at their best
But things’ll be OK, they’ll be all right
In the morning.

Oh, I can drink and pretend to be
Content with life and happy
Like any person in any bar
But don’t look too deep, don’t peer too far
Inside.

Silence. Finally Sascha asked,

“Ahhh, Dan, Daniel . . . what is ‘peer’ ?”

Andrei laughed, then Boris came into the room, looking anywhere but at his bass player. Daniel told Andrei what to play, humming a bass line, a simple jazzy pattern. Then he suggested some ideas for Sascha.

“Hey, Boris, I thought, instead of playing along, strumming, just play lead, crank up the distortion and riff away in the gaps. Come on, let’s give it a go.”

After two or three slow, half-hearted attempts, the song was getting into shape, Boris liking the total freedom, and understood exactly what Daniel wanted.

Daniel was really impressed by his guitarist and just wondered why he couldn’t always be so inspired. Then Olga came home. Andrei called out and she popped her head in, quickly spoke in Russian and went back to the kitchen to clean her teeth. Daniel suddenly understood why Boris was so relaxed.

Then he suggested a band meeting, in the Czar Bar, as he was hoping that there would be girls there who had come to see him, and as he wasn’t playing, he could spent more time with them.

Not so many girls tonight, however Daniel was very happy to see Richard.

“Where the fuck is Laughing Boy ?” he asked. Richard couldn’t believe he didn’t know the story. He couldn’t believe Andrei or Boris hadn’t told him. Once he was updated, Daniel explained that maybe Boris and Andrei were having their own version of the Chris – Johan – Veronica triangle.

“Oh, fuck !”

“Yes,” agreed Daniel, “Oh, fuck.”

“That’s why I’m here, see what’s going down. Gauge the depth of shit that Chris has plunged into. Head first. He thinks Johan’s gonna kill him. He’s absolutely fucking certain Claude is going to kill him. I want to speak with Jake before it gets too busy.”

“Or you pass out again. Fucking lightweight.”

“Not tonight. Got work to do. And you ? You playing or what ?”


“Thought I was, ah, fuck it, long story. I tried calling your number, but the line’s dead.”

Richard passed over the number of Biberkopf.

“Yeah, that’s gone, didn’t want to keep paying for it, so got rid,” he explained, apologetically, the implication being that no one called him anyway. He also gave Daniel his address.

“No intercom, or funny business, just walk in, through to the Hof and up the stairs, Mister. You’ll get some old Krauts stare at you, but I’m sure you’re used to that.”

“Not yet. Those fuckers really gawk, don’t they ? Still have to stop myself from asking them, ‘What the fuck’s your problem ?’ Apart from being a German cunt, that is.”

Daniel them began losing interest in Richard as he saw a couple of girl fans and went over, putting an arm around each one.

Jake wandered over to Richard, between customers, asking when Chris was coming back.

“Johan’s not going to do anything. He’s pissed, he’s real pissed, but he won’t touch Chris. He’s not violent, never even seen him angry.”

“Claude ?”

“Yeah, Claude’s gonna fucking kill him !” then Jake let out a splutter of laughter that amused and confused Richard who was further confused when Jake had a suggestion,

“Hey, Rich, you wanna give me a hand here ?”

“Me ?”

“Yeah, need someone I can trust. You know the prices, don’t you ? Then go gather glasses, wash a few . . .”

“Fuck, Jake, more washing up ?”

“Ah, not too fancy, just get the dregs out, wet them. Come on, get your arse behind the bar.”

Richard left as the sun was already up and doing it’s best to shed some hope and colour. He got a commitment from the band to play any new gig that Chris could organise. He got word directly from Johan (who had come in looking wrecked, but had done a very amusing double take seeing Richard pouring vodkas behind the bar) that Chris was in no physical danger. He got an unexpected wage from Jake. And he was sober. He had considered this work and approached it seriously. He had refused each and every vodka. He had, however, accepted every vodka-inspired kiss, though ‘every’ was actually just one. One more than usual.

On the way home, he went into a bakery and picked up different sorts of croissants and rolls and two take-out coffees. Whatever else was wrong with Berlin, rather with his life in Berlin, the smell of fresh croissants and take out coffee in polystyrene cups was one of life’s genuine pleasures. Walking home in the early morning in a straight line was not only a novelty but a further pleasure. It was October, another malicious Berlin winter was coming. But not today.

Chris woke up when Richard opened the door, despite efforts to be quiet.

The real shock for Chris was seeing Richard, after all night in the bar, hair straight, eyes focused, looking well, not spouting nonsense or laughing at everything.

They breakfasted together and Richard filled him in.

“So, it’s cool with Johan ?”

“No, not by a long chalk, Mush. He’s really torn up. But he’ll be all right. You’ll be OK.”

“So . . . do you think I can go back ?”

“I’d still give it a week or two. Now, the band. You’re gonna have to get them work, before hell breaks loose.”

“That bad ? What’s wrong now ?”

And Richard told him all the gossip along with a few conjectures of his own. Chris laughed, but he was using the funny anecdotes as a cover. He was relieved that Richard seemed to be staying sober.

At the earliest acceptable time, Chris called Arizona Al. He was hoping for some leads. Arizona was glad to repay him. He was taking part in another concert night in some back room club in a back street in the back of Mitte. He’d have to check, but was sure that Sawhead could get on the bill. They even had a bit of a name. A bit.

When Chris returned to the flat, he was surprised to see Daniel outside, looking up and down the street.

“I forgot the fucking number. Had it written down, but lost the paper. And that work number.”

When he entered the flat with Chris, Richard recognized, and smelt, that Daniel had on the same clothes as last night, and within five minutes, Daniel was telling them of his latest sexual conquest.

Chris was glad to change the subject and mentioned that there could be a new gig in Mitte next Saturday.

“Fucking Aces. We getting paid ?”

This lead Daniel to talk about his job. He had been missing work; first the odd day, then two days, now he regularly worked only three days a week. He was on his last warning. It was only due to a sympathetic foreman, also from London, that he was able to keep the job. Daniel didn’t really care, imagining that he could move in with the Russians, work in a bar and play more gigs, maybe three a week, and start getting money that way.

Chris looked at Daniel and nodded in a vague, non-committal way but felt Richard staring at him. He said that it was all possible, what Daniel had projected. But then Daniel said something else,

“Can’t expect someone of my talent to work that shit for much longer. I need time to work on my lyrics. Need energy for my girls. Know what I mean ? No, don’t suppose you two do.”

After Daniel had left, explaining how he needed a shower because his whole body stank of pussy, Richard and Chris looked at each other, wordless. When they did speak, after minutes or head-shaking and intakes of breathe, many references were made to Dr Frankenstein and his creation.

The gig was confirmed. Chris went over to the Russians, giving them all the details. This time they had use of a van to transport their equipment.

Daniel had also arranged his own transport, deciding that he should be driven to and from the concert. He had convinced a workmate, with a car, to drive him, boasting of the amount of women he always attracted.

The Russians would make their own way there, while Richard and Chris would be picked up on Karl-Liebknecht Straße, by the bus stop outside the Marienkirche.

The following Saturday, to get some air and kill some time, Richard and Chris walked to the open air crafts street market by the Bode Museum. They checked out the films being shown by the Zeughaus cinema, and wandered up Unter Den Linden. Chris was dreading Richard suggesting that they go for a drink, and was relieved when they walked past bar after bar without being dragged in.

Chris brought two cheap and quite awful coffees from an Imbiss and they made their way to the pick-up point.

Crossing the main road by subway, they heard a solo busker at the end of the tunnel, his voice and guitar echoing against the tiles and making them smile as they recognized the piece; ‘Swan Swan H’ by R.E.M. which was played well.

Chris, as he approached, began nodding his head, and Richard quietly joined in with the lyrics, getting louder as the busker smiled to encourage him. Chris then began lifting his arms and suddenly, twirling around, he did a waltz with an imaginary partner.

When he obstructed an elderly couple with his artistic expression, the Busker laughed and blew his words, but Richard only gained in confidence.

They gave him all their loose change and went to wait for their ride.

The good feeling soon dispersed when the car pulled over. Daniel was in the passenger seat, wearing sunglasses, and didn’t even look or speak to them as they climbed in the back seat. The driver introduced himself as Martin and asked for directions. Chris made a joke about not being exactly sure, and Daniel let out an expression of frustration and anger. Richard made a sign to Chris to let it go and they headed to Rosenthaler Platz.

Chris had a street map unfolded before him and was trying to follow the route. He found the street, but not the club. The whole area looked nondescript, residential. Then Richard spotted a familiar face,

“Look, there’s Bryan. Pull over and ask him.”

They called to him and as Daniel wound down his window, Bryan thrust his head in, making the driver recoil in terror. They got directions. It was the right street, but the entrance to the club was around the corner, through some doors. Of course. This was Berlin, why should anything be straightforward ?

Martin was still in shock,

“What the fuck was that for a thing ?”

“Does have rather a large bonce, doesn’t he ?” stated Richard.

“Did you see that head ?” asked Martin, “It filled the whole window.”

Chris was just giggling. He was sick of this bloody band, and was in the mood for dancing and drinking.

There followed the usual madness of dozens of musicians coming and going and demanding and asking and singing and showing off and smoking and drinking and sitting around and jumping about and hugging and greeting and kissing and joking and posing and posing and posing.

Arizona Al turned a corner, a keyboard over his back. Richard and Chris looked at each other and their hearts sank. Daniel went up to him, arms outstretched and kissed him on the cheek. Arizona took some time before he recognized him.
“Oh, yeah, right, Sawhead, right, yeah, I remember, wow, how you doing, man ?”

The night was actually well organised and well attended. The main band was an electronic trio from Norway, a band who had released some records and a couple of CDs that were displayed by the entrance.

Some local media moguls were there, journalists from newspapers nobody knew existed, people from local radio, and some professional musicians whom Arizona Al recognized by sight and was slightly in awe of, one being a Russian guitarist who had, allegedly, jammed with Keith Richards. He pointed him out to Chris, saying that Sawhead could really make some good contacts tonight.

Unfortunately, the tensions within the band came out onstage and it was to be their last ever gig.

They were put on early which Daniel complained about, even threatening to pull out completely. The organisers told him OK, leave, and he had to back down. Andrei and Boris simply couldn’t look at each other, and Richard was glad he came with Daniel, as that short journey was Mardi Gras compared to what the ride from Ostkreuz must have been.

Again, Daniel wanted to make an entrance and had instructed the band to start playing before he walked on, expecting to get his own applause. Boris and Andrei were past caring, but Sascha, supposed to count them in, just sat behind his kit, waiting for Daniel. Daniel gestured to him but Sascha seemed to think that he was waving, and kept waving back. Again, Daniel had to come on and wait for the band to start.

One of Daniel’s main concerns was the music. He was aiming for a Rock, Indie-Pop sound and encouraged Boris to use his effect pedals to fill out and make his guitar heavier. But Boris preferred a clear, pure sound. Usually. Tonight, he was being more . . . experimental.

And it began immediately. While Daniel was trying to introduce the first song, and speaking a lot more than was necessary, Boris began playing, his overdrive pedal switched to the max and it screamed out of every speaker and made the audience jump back, cover their ears, leave. Sascha found a point to join in and Andrei, clearly relishing a pissing contest with his rival, turned up his bass and began playing. He was aiming simply for volume, not for rhythm and it threw Sascha, who now began trying to follow his bass player. Daniel was completely lost and had no idea what song his band were playing. All his ideas about changing the name to Daniel Roth and Sawhead The Bear vanished, as he believed his backing band were deliberately trying to sabotage him.

Boris and Andrei were standing on opposite sides of the stage, looking away. Sascha was looking at everybody for some kind of indication or instruction. Daniel sang any lyrics he thought would fit, but couldn’t be heard, anyway.

Chris looked at Richard who looked at Arizona Al who looked at Bryan Moonface. People who didn’t know the band walked away, dismissing them as first timers at best, a joke band, at worse.

Daniel could see people leave en mass. Some girls he had winked at earlier, telling them how great his band were, just laughed at him as they turned to talk to other musicians.

Throwing down his mic, Daniel went up to Boris, to shake him, but was shrugged off. When he tried again, the look of absolute hate in Boris’ eyes made him step back. Daniel then went over to Andrei and began shouting. The bass player simply ignored him. But Daniel had to find a target, and when Sascha smiled at him like this was a great, rocking band, Daniel dived across the drum kit to strangle him.

There was a sound of a bass crashing to the floor, then deafening feedback. Daniel was lifted up, one-handed, by Andrei who looked him in the eye, wagged his finger ‘No!’ then half pushed, half threw him off the stage.

Daniel walked out. Sascha began shouting at Andrei, who packed up his bass. Boris kept on playing until the sound guys cut his amp.

Chris didn’t care. Daniel had left. The Russians were going their separate ways. But the bar was well stocked, the women were gorgeous and, as he said to Richard,

“Just when you think things can’t get any worse, we still have to listen to Arizona Al.”

In tandem, Richard and Chris delivered the by now obligatory,

“We’re gonna need a bigger bar,” line.

They stayed until the Norwegian band came on, and after five minutes of electronic music that didn’t appeal to them at all, they left.

They walked home, deciding to break the monotony of the walk by going into one or two bars along the way. Richard only drank, only seemed to want to drink, beer, but these were conventional, local bars, no truck with vodka madness, leg-cocking canines and, “Shit on a stick.” Being away from the Czar Bar was having a positive effect. Chris just wished it had been a better evening. But he also realised, through all the fear and worry, he hadn’t once thought about Veronica.

Love and Chaos Part 1(F) Chris 2

14th November 2020

Berlin Zoo and Surrounding Areas - The Elephant Gate
Berlin Zoo Station. Google Images

Part One. Berlin. Spring 1993

Despite travelling for a day, with little sleep or food, Chris felt elated as the train entered the western suburbs of Berlin, a sensation he had simply never known before. For the first time, he wasn’t scared, but knew that he had made the right choice. He felt that he had left nothing, that nothing had ever worked out. He never had the feeling that he was in the right place, doing the right thing.

Now, as he looked out of the train window, he saw people on the streets, cars, yellow buses, giant ‘U’s indicating underground stations, white letter on deep blue background, and blocks of flats, only four or five stories high; long, ordered roads, small side squares, he saw, for the first time, Berlin.

The train corridor was filling up, Zoologische Garten was next stop. Some unshaven lads were smoking, an elderly lady screamed at them to step aside, a middle-aged man in leather pants and jacket walked past holding an open beer can, two teenage girls appeared eating something out of tin foil.

Chris had read and re-read the instructions, but stepping out onto the platform was still disconcerting. All signs, naturally, were in German, and everyone but him knew exactly which of the many exits to use. People streamed past, all with a determination he envied. He walked to the platform centre where there was a large map and studied the signs leading to various streets. He recognized his one, followed it and emerged, finally, out of the main doors, by the large bus terminal. It was as Marina had said; he’d see a large tower with the Mercedes sign, the Europa Center. From the station, he had to go south on Joachimstaler Strasse, and to his left, before Europa they’d be the ruined shell of the Kaiser Wilhelm Church. Keep walking and on the corner of the Ku’ Damm was a bar. He should get a table outside, order a coffee or Sekt (he had no idea what a Sekt was) and wait.

He was a little behind schedule, spending more time twisting the corridors of the station, than on the streets, but he was here, one suitcase, one wallet (with a less than impressive amount of Deutsch Marks), and no reason to be anywhere else.

Marina had said that the waitress would come to him, would speak English and may be cute. The waiter did indeed come to his table, but he spoke English begrudgingly and couldn’t by any stretch be deemed ‘cute’, none of which mattered; the coffee arrived reasonably quickly, was reasonably good and was reasonably over-priced.

He hoped he wasn’t too much of a sight, and wished he’d shaven on the boat when he’d had the chance. The worst part for him had been the very first step, leaving his bedsit and taking the Tube to the mainline station. From there it had improved, slightly, though the train ride through miles of dreary, depressing London suburbia was only inspirational in a negative way: what could be worse ? The boat was where he first felt some indefinable happiness, as if leaving England was restoring him to youth and health and hope. Then came the confusion of Holland, and the realisation that he had Pounds and Marks but no Dutch money, so couldn’t buy any food or drink. The trip to Hamburg was one of prolonged suspense, as he was in a limbo of sorts, but it got him into Germany for the final leg, and a ride that reinforced the image of German efficiency and timekeeping.

He ordered a second coffee and then a beer, as he saw many people drinking alcohol freely in the mid-day sun. He immediately sensed the relaxation in the atmosphere, none of the stress and anxious restlessness of London. Then he felt two hands over his eyes.

“Chris ! You’re here.”

Marina jumped in front of him, bounced up and down once or twice and hugged him. Chris stood up but wasn’t sure how affectionate he was supposed, or allowed, to be and gave her a feeble kiss on the lips, which she returned after a slight hesitancy, but with the passion of friendship and nothing else.

Chris thought she looked fantastic, even more so than in London, with her sparkling brown eyes and curly brown hair. He loved the way she took command, raising a delicate hand to summon the waiter and then dismissing him with a charming smile.

She explained how thing were, speaking in her animated style, with hand gestures and a myriad of subtle inflexions. The first night he would be staying with her and Ross, her boyfriend. The ‘B’ word. Chris thought back to Richard and his routine. He had known about the boyfriend in London, but he had been hundreds of miles away, now Chris would have to see him, and be aware that this night it would be the boyfriend that would take Marina to bed.

He kept these emotions under control as Marina continued, and smiled hearing how busy she had been on his behalf. Tomorrow, he could stay with her oldest friend, Claudia. She had an English boyfriend, but he would be away for a week, so she had space. They knew a landlady who had a flat that should be free in a week, possibly sooner and Claudia could also get him a job at a studio where she did some part time work.

“Well, then,” said Chris, clapping his hands, “we should drink Champagne.”

He was joking, but Marina was already in action. She softly bit her lip, an action that drove Chris wild, and raised a finger for the waiter, followed by a smile that could disarm the meanest of souls. She ordered a bottle of something.

“Not Champagne. Even better. And German !”

The Sekt arrived with all pomp, an ice bucket and two flutes. The waiter poured, stern-faced, with his right arm, his left tucked way behind his back in an attitude that Chris felt had to be excruciating. He finished pouring, gave a curt nod with the merest soupcon of a smile, then left. Marina picked up her glass, Chris his and they toasted,

“Prost!” the German ‘cheers’

“Sekt. Do you like it ?”

“Oh, this is Sekt. Yeah. And a whole bottle. Can we afford it ?”

Marina laughed, with her hearty, open-mouthed, unaffected manner.

“This isn’t London. Learn to live. Learn to have fun.”

“It won’t be easy. How do we get to your house ? Tube ?”

“Car.”

“But you’ve been drinking ?”

Marina raised her left shoulder slightly, turned out her bottom lip and tilted her head.

“Ja. Und ?”

Chris laughed and they slowly killed off the bottle, as Marina talked about everything and nothing and Chris, as long as he was looking at her, didn’t care either way.


The evening at Marina’s was uneventful, as he was tired from the journey and the afternoon drinking. Marina had laid out a towel, some soap, a new toothbrush and prepared some food while he washed. As far as Chris was concerned, everything was fine, more than fine, wonderful. Until Ross came home.

In much the same way that he knew he was going to Berlin, it hadn’t been until he had quit work, given notice on his room and found himself at passport control, that it really sank in. Now it wasn’t until he physically saw Ross that he accepted that Marina had a boyfriend. And he hated him.

He was a boorish Glaswegian, working as project manager on a construction site. He was fond of his own voice and of showing who was boss in the house. Throughout the evening, he constantly reprimanded Marina when he felt she was being too silly or childish, or if they seemed about to embark on a lover’s spat. Chris hoped and hoped that they would. He envisioned jumping into her car and the both of them moving into this new flat. But it would never be. She deferred to Ross every time.

The unforgivable occurred as they were making arrangement for going to bed. Marina had slipped away to get an extra blanket and Ross had slapped her on the backside and winked at Chris.

“I feel like an early night, tonight,” which he illustrated with an unbuckling of his belt.

Left alone in the main room, Chris tiptoed to the kitchen, found a half bottle of wine, uncorked it and gulped freely. He reasoned that he needed to sleep and didn’t want to be disturbed by any noise.

What he was disturbed by actually pleased him. Around six-thirty, Ross began getting washed and dressed and made no concession to the sleeping guest, shouting out to Marina entirely superfluous comments. As these had no effect, Ross went over to Chris and shook him, telling him it was nice to meet him and that they should do brunch, soon.

The front door closed and although Chris wanted more than anything to jump up and onto Marina, he resisted the temptation and soon after, the Berlin chorus began.

Somewhere in the neighbourhood, a cacophony of industrial noise rose up, a mix of drills, shouts, electric whirls and buzzes, hammering, thumping, heavy vehicles and heavy machinery.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes and emerging from her room still in her nightie, Marina greeted him with a smile, the light in her distant room back-lighting her like an angel. She told him to rest with a laugh, then said that the noise stopped in half an hour. Meanwhile, she would wash, dress and go out to buy breakfast.

Chris’ first Berlin breakfast was a veritable feast. Fresh bread rolls, various jams, cheeses, meat slices, smoked salmon, eggs, fruit, yoghurt, coffee, orange juice and Sekt. And Marina.

Many, many mornings, as he fished around for the remnants of a coffee packet, smoking a left-over cigarette butt and taking aspirin, he would think back to this Elysian banquet.

Then it was back in the car, Marina again laughing at Chris’ solitary bag. They drove through Berlin, and Marina pointed out various sights along the way and gave a potted history lesson, most of it prefixed by “I’m not really sure but I think ….” and similar disclaimers. Chris looked everywhere, trying to absorb everything, as they sang along to tapes of R.E.M. and Nirvana.

In half an hour, there were in the old East Berlin and the change from Marina’s area was striking. Here the buildings were all dark brown, with flaking stucco. The balconies had few plants, but flimsy washing lines displaying drab items of clothing. The roads were cobbled, the air had a strange smell, which he would later recognise as a blend of briquette dust and smoke and soot and stale beer and the fumes of thousands of cigarettes. The parked cars were old models, many Trabants, there were no signs of street life and every other block seemed to be a wasteland of scrubs and dust and broken furniture. Every residential block seemed to be undergoing renovation, with temporary wooden walkways and covered tunnels leading into the blackness of inner courtyards, scaffolding, large plastic sheets that flapped incessantly and puddles of mud and sand.

Chris loved it.

They got out and went up to a block in Ackerstrasse, Marina pointing to where the Wall had been and gesturing the path it took. There was no intercom as in Marina’s flat, here the doors were open and the temperature inside felt ten degrees cooler immediately. There were rusty metal boxes hanging off the walls, graffiti covered, for people’s letters. Marina pointed out Claudia’s and led him through a door, out into a back courtyard, which had some bicycle racks and dustbins, into another block. They climbed bare, dusty stairs to the third floor, and Marina knocked on a door that had faint music coming from behind. After a short pause it opened and Claudia came out, giving Marina a big hug and Chris a hug almost as warm.

The flat, which had looked so dour from the outside was transformed inside. It had a small kitchen but two medium bedrooms and a large living room with tall, green plants. The ceilings were high and there was decorative panelling with what appeared to be cherubs and flower motifs. The flat, like Claudia, seemed very open, clothes were all over, books and LP’s on the floor, papers and magazines likewise.

They were invited into the kitchen for coffee and Claudia began rolling a cigarette, asking Chris if he smoked. He did and willing accepted the proffered gift. Claudia had a certain feline sexuality in her movements, which interested Chris. When the water boiled, instead of standing up, she seemed to stretch into the space and to slink over to the stove, propelled by first one shoulder, then the other.

It was certainly low-tech in comparison with all the western devices of yesterday.

“So, Chris, do you speak any German ?“

He admitted that he knew very little, and Claudia gave a discouraging shake of disapproval, that worried him.

“You’ll have to learn. Everyone speaks English, anyway, but you’ll get a better job. And understand all the sodding paperwork.”

Chris let out a laugh at her English. She had learnt in Ireland and had a strong Irish accent, that really threw him. He later understood that although her manner could be a bit abrasive, she was as lovely as Marina.

The girls soon talked about the plan. He could start work tomorrow and there was certainly a flat available in a day or two, in Friedrichshain, a ten-minute drive away, Marina informed him. They had some food, more coffee, more cigarettes and talked about London, and how they had met, and stolen bottles and about the interrogation that Chris embellished to such an extent, that both girls fell silent in fear and trembling. Chris liked this and noted the effect a powerful story could have on his audience, especially when he cast himself as victim.

Claudia told Chris to choose more music when the tape finished, so he ejected the live Bauhaus tape and rummaged through a disorganised collection of tapes with inscrutable labels and CD’s, most of which were in the wrong sleeves. He suspected that the Dire Straits and Fleetwood Mac CD’s were her boyfriend’s contributions, the Siouxsie, Sisters Of Mercy and Depeche Mode, her own. He took his time, knowing that the tone of his relationship with Claudia would be set by his choice. He made an exclamation of pleasant surprise and inserted a tape. The female voice of German band X Mal Deutschland filled the kitchen and it had the desired effect. Claudia approved. So he had good taste in music. A good start.

Young Learners, Level 4: Which one ?

10th November 2020

E Up 4, U 2 review

Let’s kick off with an appropriate song – REM and ‘The One I Love.’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7oQEPfe-O8

I love playing guitar but I really want a new guitar.

I love playing guitar but I really want a new one.

The noun is ‘guitar‘. We can use the word ‘one‘ so we don’t need to say the same noun twice.

OK, which guitar would you like ?

Fender Player Jaguar PF, Tidepool at Gear4music
Gibson Custom Shop 1957 Les Paul Goldtop Left Hand #77121 - vos antique  gold Solid body electric guitar yellow
Rickenbacker 330 Left-Handed, Jetglo at Gear4music

I would like the black guitar.

OR

I would like the black one.

T-shirts – which one would you like ?

ROARR! - Hand Printed Kids T-Shirt | DESIGNSMITH
Star Wars™ Yoda READ kids t-shirt — Out of Print
Kid t-shirt print ideas

Doughnuts – what is the question ?

Best Baked Doughnuts Ever Recipe - Food.com

Animals – which one is the fastest ?

Protecting big cats is the call of next year's World Wildlife Day, 3 March  2018 | CITES

QUIZ

Birds – which one can fly backwards ?

Insects – which ones never sleep ?

Mammals – which ones can fly ?

Which ones can’t jump ?

Which one can’t make a sound ?

Review

What do you like doing ? Are you good at it ?

Thay Paul's Notes – General Notes about my English lessons and life in Viet  Nam.

I like riding elephants. I really like riding elephants. I’m good at it.

What do you not like doing ? What are you not good at ?

Confused man is confused. | I can explain

I don’t like speaking Vietnamese. I’m not very good at it.

Adult Speaking Class, Level 2: Quick review

7th June 2020

10 more common verbs in present and past tenses

to find found 
to give gave 
to tell told 
to work worked 
to call called 
to try tried 
to ask asked 
to need needed 
to feel felt 
to become became 
to leave left 

Answer these questions, using the past tense:

Diamond Plaza

That is a great hat ! Where did you find it ?  //      I find it at Diamond Plaza

You look exhausted ! Did you work today ?  //              Yes, I work all day

What happened to Tony ?     //                                   He  become rich and left work.

The neighbours are so loud !   //                                  Yes, I ask them to be quiet

What is your dog’s name ?   //                                              She is call Annie.

Beagle Dog Breed » Information, Pictures, & More
My dog is ___________ Annie

ONLY one verb in the past tense

I tried to call you last night.   I wanted to meet you and drink some Czech (check) beer.

The Czech Beer Culture – Faraway Lans

Using adverbs of frequency

always            frequently     often          sometimes                    occasionally      never

100 %       /      85 – 90 %  /   75 %           /     30 – 50 %      /             15 – 20%      /   0

Ask each other questions:

How often do you drink beer ?                   Go to the cinema

Buy a new dress                                           visit the dentist

update your Facebook status                     watch the news on TV        

eat western food                                           cook traditional Vietnamese food ?

Today, I went to have a hair cut

(Men = barber / Women = stylist, Both = hairdresser)

Traditional barber's pole outside a shop in central London Stock ...
Traditional UK barbers for men with red and white pole
Le Posh Hair Salon - 130 Photos & 329 Reviews - Hair Salons - 2286 ...
Ladies hair salon

I went to a local  (in the area / near / close)  hairdresser.  After, we went shopping and while there, we bought special beer from Czech Republic – it is my favourite, and also some junk food.

SONG:

To help you with the ‘fre’ pronunciation, here’s a song from one of my favourite bands, REM. It’s called ‘What’s the frequency, Kenneth ?’

Adult Speaking Class, Level 1: Reading and asking for information

16th April 2020

Today we shall focus on reading adverts, posters and internet posts to find basic information.

Additionally, you will learn how to ask and answer questions in order to give or receive information.

Let’s start with a poster for the rock band REM, who were formed in the 1980s

REM Live Concert Webcast Rumored (Updated) | WIRED
REM live in concert

Seeing a band perform live is very exciting.

There is a great atmosphere.

Hundreds or thousands of people are singing and clapping.

It is a unique experience.

When a band goes on tour, they advertise. They can advertise online, in newspapers or by using posters.

This poster is for a REM tour from 1989. The band had a new CD called ‘Green’. They perform live to promote the CD, to encourage people to buy their CD.

Read the poster carefully and answer the questions:

Where is it ? (The name of the concert hall)

What time does it kick off (start) ?

When is it ? (The date)

How can we buy tickets ? (There are different ways to buy tickets – how ?)

They were touring in support of their new LP ‘Green’ 

What do you associate with the colour green?

How about:

blue

red

yellow

white

black ?

Here is some information. What questions would you need to ask ?

National Museum Of Korea - The Seoul Guide

Visitor Information

Address:

137 Seobinggo-ro, Seobinggo-dong, Yongsan-gu

Nearest train station:

Ichon (National Museum of KoreaStation is a station in Yongsan-gu, Seoul on Seoul Subway Line 4 and Gyeongui–Jungang Line.

Hours:

  • Opening times:
  • Monday, Tuesday, Thursday & Friday : 10:00 ~ 18:00
  • Wednesday & Saturday : 10:00 ~ 21:00
  • Sunday & Holidays : 10:00 ~ 19:00
  • Closed days: January 1stSeollal (Jan. 25, 2020), Chuseok (Oct. 1, 2020)

Admission

  • Admission is free to the Main Exhibition Hall and the Children’s Museum.
  • There is a separate charge for the special exhibition in the Special Exhibition Gallery.

Further information:

http://www.museum.go.kr/site/main/content/tour_guidance

How would you ask question for:

The address

Opening times

The cost (admission fee)

Nearest train station

More online information

Moving on to Las Vegas

New York-New York Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas | Hotel Rates ...
Las Vegas, USA

We want to stay 4 nights at a hotel. What information can you find in this image?

Will inflated hotel prices keep conventioneers away from CES ...

Look for the cheapest hotel. What information can you see ?

Look for somewhere that is very expensive

Is there any extra money to pay ?

Where is this information from ?