An Alternative Universe for Tuesday Afternoon

Today, an incredibly wet and gloomy Tuesday, I had a brief and powerful escapist fantasy. Triggered by listening to Arctic Monkey's on my Ipod and realising that Alex Turner is basically my age but with a tidy bank balance that frees him to do basically anything he wants in his life. This propelled me into an alternative universe where I wasn't locked into a happy but prosaic life in London's ragid, glamour-less hinterland but free to jump up, do anything, go anywhere.


Instantly I knew what I would do, I'd duck out quietly and pop over to Berlin for an undetermined period to glide calmly through the the days and weeks. If I was lucky I might even convince my girl to share it with me. I'd rent a little flat on the upper floors of one those beautiful turn of the (last) century apartment blocks somewhere around Prenzlauerberg, the ones with the tiled entrance halls, wrought iron stair rails and high ceilings. The ones with a faded, but still graceful glamour and a sense of age, history and significance.

I'd cherish both the baking dry heat of July and the finger-freezing, lip numbing chill of the city's long, deep winter. I'd record the gradual changing of the seasons with my camera, stopping here and there to capture anything that caught my curiosity or delighted my eye.

I'd pick up a secondhand bike and serenely work my way around the city exploring it's nooks and crannies, stopping in little cafes for coffees, beers and a little reading. I'd leave my flat late at night and ride on over to bars to meet new friends and old native acquaintances on who I'd practice my faltering early attempts to master their grand tongue. We'd joke and drink and stay out late into the morning. When it was time to leave I would cycle home happy in the knowledge that once again I had nothing to do on the new day but to hop on the bike and make my way wherever I wished.