“Ich bin ein Spurs fan!!” Everyone remembers exactly what they were doing when JFK uttered those famous words. No-one knows why he said them, but just lived in that moment.

And if JFK represented, in 1963, everything that was great about the West, that was good, honest, adorable, loveable, peaceful (ish) and wondrous, then by extension, Arsenal must stand as a metaphor for the East of the Cold War days. For the forces of evil, for oppression, arrogance, totalitarianism, insidious infiltration of our core values and of smelliness in general.

No, I really don’t think I’ve stretched that metaphor too excessively, particularly as it didn’t exist until two little paragraphs ago. Thus: its fair.

But I’m not in Germany to waste my time with football. Not this weekend, anyway. Its all terrible. Glad I’m away and missing all the ‘fun’. I’m here to pound pavements. And pound them we have.

When we arrived yesterday morning it was raining. We then walked, all told, 11.7km in the pouring, pissing, fucking rotten, German rain. Not saying we weren’t productive. We saw some apartments (awful), we had lunch (wonderful), we learned much about the area and, eventually, we had dinner (amazing). We traveled by tube (‘U-bahn’) and by overground (S-bahn) and went from far west to farther east without getting arrested, getting shot or meeting the KGB.

Today we did similar. Brunch was different, but equally great, and we walked another 11.2km (according to Rachie’s phone) but this time, most of it in the dry! Germany without rain. Its like Arsenal without dodgy refereeing decisions. But we lived that dream. Til about 4 when it started to drizzle once more.

So we stopped for coffee and cake in the most decadent of decadent places ever. Shared a piece of chocolate tort cake that wouldn’t actually have fit into my carry-on suitcase. Though I reckon it was almost calorie-free. Because… errr…

And yet again, despite the awful weather and the icy-cold, I just love this city. You walk three blocks. The first is ‘knightsbrige’, with chi-chi shops and Luis Vuitton paving slabs and Rolex trash cans. Cross the road and you’re in Mill Hill; all suburban with parks and gardens and lovely apartment buildings. The next crossing takes you to Hoxton; old places re-done to the height of hipster chic and with coolness seeping out of the drains, street-art, graffiti and beards everywhere. And wherever you stop, its great value. Even with the sinking/sunk pound, nothing here seems expensive. And call me old-fashioned, but I like that.

One more day, then we return tomorrow afternoon/evening. Though with Rachie coming for good in January, the chances of returning here are… pretty high, I’d say.

Auf wiedersein,

A xxxx