Back in Berlin

A dearth of photos.

I arrive to 20 red roses and an immaculate white flat near the river. And a strict and structured German course. I have an interview though, a culmination of effort and fret.

The interview is terrible. I'm convinced it's the worst thing I've done in the world - ever.

Both Ellie and Ul remind me that I said this about the last interview. I, of course, now remember being brilliant then.

Ul is lovely once we've got through several stroppy discussions on whether I should have applied in the first place. We drink large amounts of Heffer Wietsen by the river in the sun and at plastic covered tables in the ugly bar nominated as our local, full of Germans being German, practising timing of presentations and discussing the intricacies of humanitarian funding. Still loving the Berlin thing of really not needing to pretend to be smart.