Es war einmal….

If I were to write a fairy tale, I’d set it here. A good, old fashioned fairy tale, like the Brothers Grimm collated. Above the howl of the wind in the hills would be the shrieks of dragons. Straying off the beaten path in the woods would take you to a gingerbread house, a witch lurking inside ready to fatten you up. Trolls would haunt the broken down bridges, charging pedestrians for crossing their ruins. Through the town there would be a steady stream of princes and princesses, on their way to marriages, jousts and balls. The foxes that screech in the night would decide to form a band, playing in front of the town hall. The lakes would house frogs eager to rescue lost toys from the depths in exchange for true love’s kiss. Following the smoke that spirals above the woods would lead you to Rumpelstiltskin, dancing round the fire. Bears would be princes under a spell, statues actually beautiful women and above all there would be magic dancing in the air. If I were to write a fairy tale, I’d set it here. Because although instead of briars it has blocks of flats, and instead of a castle it has factories, Ilmenau has the look of a fairy tale. And what is Germany if not the home of Once Upon A Time?


Home is a far off land

I’m flying home on Friday. And I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see my family and my friends and be able to hug them and not have to get mad at the fact that there’s a computer screen between us. It’ll also be great to talk to them without Skype deciding that we’ve talked enough and closing down on us.

I miss fish and chips and having carpet and wifi and… I can’t think of anything else. I’m sure there’s other things. Baskets in supermarkets! I miss baskets in supermarkets. Never thought I’d say that. But other than that, I’m struggling to think of things I’m looking forward to about England.

When I’ve been homesick, it’s been for people, not for the motherland. If I could transport every person who matters to me to Germany, I’d be a very happy Kat. And this means that although I’m super excited to be going home, there’s also part of me that doesn’t want to leave.

What’s most ridiculous about this is that I’m coming back. I still have another five months to go. So why am I already stressing about leaving? I don’t know. All I can say is that, for all my moaning, I love it out here and England may have to up its game if it wants me to stay there for the rest of my life. But the most important part of this post is that though I’m hesitating about leaving already, I am so looking forward to seeing people. Never doubt that. Coming home at Christmas is what’s got me through bouts of homesickness. Well, that and the Johnny English theme tune.


An Ode to Knitwear

I hate wearing hats. Scarves are a faff. Fingerless gloves fly under the radar because I like their aesthetic .
But I am here to take it all back. To apologise for everytime I scorned them. For the derision. For the disdain. Because, shockingly, knitwear is good at the job it does. It’s almost as if it’s designed for it.
What has prompted this post is the fact that it is now cold in Ilmenau. Cold as in the lakes have frozen over. Cold as in I’m thinking about bowing to German sensibilities and buying slippers (despite disliking slippers even more than I dislike knitwear). Cold as in I have a ski jacket now – I have never been skiing.

So I’d just like to take a moment to acknowledge the fact that though I hate wearing hats, scarves are so much effort, and proper gloves stop me from texting, I’m glad my family pressed me into bringing them with me. Because cold. So much cold.


My favourite hat. It sparkles.


It’s nothing to worry about.

Parts of this week have been dedicated to missing people. Not huge parts, only small parts. Very brief moments. Of missing friends, family. Today I nearly sent the text of ‘I miss you, come home.’ Which is a ridiculous thing to almost send, because it’s not them who aren’t home. I’m the one who’s gone away.

And I know some people are going to read this and worry (Dad, I’m looking at you) and I’d like to say, very clearly, that I’m okay. If I wasn’t missing people, it’d be more worrying. And let’s be honest, at the moment, I have nowt to do, so there’s a lot more time to be missing people.

So yes, tiny blog post just to say I miss the peoples from home. You lot know who you are. Leastways, you ought to.