Karl and Jack are coming to visit me for Christmas.

This is amazingly wonderful news for several reasons.

We will day-trip the fuck out of this place. France, Switzerland, Heidelberg and the black forest are hit list agenda items.

They are know to be very tolerant of my Romanticising tendencies - poetry readings and painting en plein air - if its not too cold. The philsopher's trail even if it is too cold, I say.

I will try to organising sledding. It shall be red and we shall all bring bells and spurs (Brokeback style for Lark).

I will feel loved and surrounded by companions- in a place that I'm increasingly, despairingly associating with solitary reading.

We will then fly to Paris to party New Year's Eve away metropolis style. There I shall meet up with Ness, Hannah and maybe even Bek!

Then, in the new year Bologna (and Venice) is up on the cards.

I have prophesied it thusly.

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Tonight I'm going to a public reading about Bob Dylan accompanied by his tunes. I shall be drinking mulled wine with Amaretto.


edit: ha. Germanic pronunciation of Dylan lyrics was unduly amusing given my own bumbling Deutsch. He made 'Blood on the Tracks' sound like a promise.