Love-Drunk!

Yesterday I made a friend on Tram 16 while on my way to work. Surely that's a skill I can add to my cv.
She was a very old, weathered-looking woman who was sitting on the seat in front of me to the left. She seemed very quiet until a ticket inspector came through the tram to make sure no one was guilty of a schwartzfahrt (ticketless ride). I think she had a ticket. I'm not really sure. She started showering the ticket inspector, confetti-like, with any scrap of paper she could find in her purse. Quite pretty really. The Insepctor seemed amused though and secretly I was feeling very joyous because it reminded me of the old tube-freaker days back in London town.
Anyway the Inspector got off at the next stop and she started shouting in slurred Swiss German stuff I couldn't understand but was definitley of the good-natured, albeit, raucous type. She then turned around to the face the carriage which was the cue for everyone bar me ( the deer in the headlights) to start browsing their papers. So she caught my eye and said ' Schones tag.' I said 'Schones tag' back. I mean why not. It so rare that people say hello to you here. I'll take a hello where I can.
Anyway then she got up because the tram was coming to her stop and she wrapped her arms around my head and pressed her cheek to my cheek and started to stroke my face. She did it about three times while shouting things which I couldn't understand but I did hear the word 'honesty'. At this point I feel I should add that she had breath like a whiskey brewery and it was just after twelve o'clock. She then got off the tram and as I was waiting for the tram to leave I heard banging on my window. Now she was out on the pavement tapping my window while blowing kisses with the other hand. The rest of the tram was laughing (although secretly I think they were all jealous.)

I smelt a little boozy for the rest of the day which was quite pleasing actually.

Primavera in anticipo

Today is the weekend which I suppose, if one really thinks about it, means that it is the weekend everywhere else too ( Ah yes -it's that kind of impressive acumen that got me through my law degree!)

Unfortunately I need to go shopping because I have to get some new sandals . The thing I hate the most about shopping in Basel is when I line up behind fourteen year olds at the counter and they each pull out a 100 frank note to pay. Where do they get that kind of money from? I have to try not to look like the jealous kid who gets sandwiches for lunch instead of the latest crispbread ensemble. It's a challenge. Still the fact that I need sandals means summer is in the air which is very pleasing given the long, brutal winter we just had :-)

Makes me want to play my current favourite song - Primavera in anticipo by Laura Pausini (feat JB)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LajSWjbC93I

have a day J

Man o' dreams

Art Basel (http://www.artbasel.com/) is in town right now. This is a ritzy sort of Art expo where people with a lot more money than myself go and buy £65000 chairs and million dollar paintings. It is a big celebrity puller and one of my students saw Brad Pitt there on Tuesday buying some heirlooms for the kiddies. I wouldn't normally name-drop celebrity sightings (probably because I never have any) but I feel compelled to mention this one because I ended up having a dream about him the following night in which he leapt out of an enormous "catermeran-car" ( just you wait until those babies take off!!) so he could run to me and say' hey babe'. The curious thing is I would never have actively chosen a 'hey babe" scenario involving Mr Pitt as topic of my dreams. Not that I have anything against the guy. I don't even know him. He strikes me as someone who would probably pass my mandatory ' real man' test though. EG:
1. Whom would carry whom out of a burning building?
I mean obviously I would have no problem running out myself or helping someone else out too but if a man draped himself across my shoulders and expected me to hoist him out I might feel a little underwhelmed.
2. Would he be prepared to give his last chicken drumstick to a starving cat (or a fat cat for that matter)?
I feel fairly confident he's the fire-rescuing type (great media oppurtunity!) and as for the cat well I can't imagine him in a last chicken drumstick situation anyway so it's probably a reundant question.

But I seem to be digressing....my real point is that I find it very interesting how often my dreams never feature the people I really care about or have secret crushes on.
Ok there are the odd exceptions:
My Barack-Obama-embrace-that-was-cordial-to-the-onlooker-while-highly-erotic-for-the-participants-dream.
Or perhaps my Clive-Owen-oooh-stepdad-dream. ( Less said about that the better!

But in general no one I fancy ever makes it to the cutting floor. I suppose it is my brain's way of protecting me from disappointment. Imagine dreaming that Slaven Bilic had selected me as assistant coach of Croatia only to wake up and find out it was all just a beautiful dream.

I guess I should just be thankful that my mind uses the likes of Brad Pitt to entertain me in a harmless way so I never suffer real disappointment.

Hooray for that I suppose.

Goodbye number 3

So my bike got stolen in Basel on the weekend. :-( Outside my apartment. With its lock on! This is the third bike I have had stolen in the last four years. Two of them were in Italy (R.I.P Crazy Cat and Elisabetta) but I am finding this theft more of a shock. In Italy I kind of expected it (and both times I either didn't lock my bike or didn't lock it properly) but here it was locked and I'm always telling people how safe Switzerland is. I suppose the only ray of light to come out of it was that I got to go to the Polizei and make a report to a very handsome policeman called Grosso. (Grosso by name, I would like to add, certainly not by face.) He even let me practise my dodgy version of German which probably sounded a bit like this -' bike-away-sad-locked-help-big seat' and wrote up a very nice report which I can keep as a remembrance card for said bike.

aufwiedersehen bici