Some effing café 11:00
Mike's tapeworm is active again and he's dragged me into an effing café close to the station. I'm waiting for the Weihenstephaner pub over the road to open. Mike wanted to drag me all the way back to the main square to save 1 euro on a sausage. It's tipping it down. Luckily, he's seen sense.
Just 30 minutes to wait. At least they sell coffee with stiffeners here. Pharisäer, I've had. The rum in it has taken some of the chill out of my bones. Some of the chill from the death walk uphill through the rain.
Mike has organised all of the trip. That's why I need the eye-opener. Today and every other day. Let's face it, if I didn't need to concentrate for my work, I'd have one every morning.
Restaurant Weihenstephaner 11:45
Finally. We're in a pub. A kitschy Bavarian type place, but it's a proper pub. Selling Weihenstephaner beer. You probably could have guessed that from the name. We're just about leaning on the door when they open. We're the first customers. I don't care. I hate people. Especially in groups of more than one. Shit. There are two of us.
Weihenstephaner Tradition Dunkles: Nutty. Not clack, just nutty.
The Bauernteller is very nice. Especially as I don't rush it. I've budgeted, stomach-wise, for a minimum of 4 half litres of this delicious brown stuff. And I hate missing targets. Must come from my days in management.
Brill! They have proper aged schnapps. I've never seen that before. Not in Germany. They're between 3 and 8 tears old. I'm so impressed, I take a photo:
The waitress isn't too happy. Doesn't like me photographing the menu. Until I explain why. Then she just looks at me in pity. I much prefer being the object of pity rather than anger.
When we leave the streets are deserted. Germany's game has just started. Eerily quiet. That's how I'd describe it.
I would be pissed off. But I've a bellyful of Bauernteller and Dunkles. And I've already stocked up with impulse Schnapps for the train.
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Fax: 0921 - 853425
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