Soup Slurping Ottoman Greek Style

A tradition handed down to me by my Forefathers and considered to be the height of politeness in Asia Minor.

P.S. The Mrs Nikos commentary probably adds a little je ne sais quoi  to this rare and offensive footage.

Happy Christmas Bloggers Wherever and Whoever You Are!

P.S. that my super new recycling wheelybin there under the gold bauble.

I am CanBus

Following a devastating bout of ManFlu (R), black ice and slush in my drive, I have managed to pick up CanBus, my new passport to be enslaved and beholden to the mercy of BMW Motorrad workshops and specialists who own a GS-911 Fault Code Reader.

In this near live image feed, CanBus awaits the proving run to Knutsford.

Take Five

Roger of New Zealand threw down a  gauntlet and with much haste I scanned my photographic output for five evocative images of 2011.

April : Mrs N finds a nice motorcycle instructor for refresher training.

July:  We become demented in the heat of New York

October:  A fine early morning view on the way to Hamburg celebrating my entry into Lufthansa frequent flyer status

November:  Son comes out to play at Formby beach.

December:  Daughter is 21 and I take her and her Grandmother to where my parents took me when I was 21 (yes, the Cherwell Boat House is still there by the River Cherwell).

Ich bin zwei Motorräder

Actually drei if I count Ronny Barker the baby GS that really belongs to Mrs N.

She is a 2007 model - the height of perfection with brakes that work and proper gearing.  This is a stock picture - mine will look filthier than this 5 minutes after I pick her up next week.

A Berliner is No Donut

That depressing time of the year has arrived again aka my Birthday.  People who forget my birthday (many) are able to remember my name day on December 6th , although I can see here that I could claim April 26th too.

Enough of this polite intro banter, I'm now going to display some of my snaps taken whilst spending a weekend in Berlin, a present from the kind Mrs N who was also present.

I travel to the airport in my usual way on a machine made in Berlin.  There is a secret, well lit and relatively secure parking area within 100m of the terminal that  the Airport Information desk says does not exist, rather directing motorcycle parking 5 miles away at a long term car park!

The Iron Curtain as rendered in Berlin - This handy landmark has now vanished and many times I asked Mrs N were we east or west?

West

German precision matches Japanese

I was most taken by this 35 Ton dame with a gilded pigeon on her head. (Siegessäule)

The Victory Column lady : She has got around a bit known variously as Viktoria, Germania and Soldatenfrau and in 1939 was relocated 1 Roman mile to her present location at der Großer Stern.  We access her through a tunnel.

Viewing platform  - looking down at shadow from Siegessäule

You have to hand it to Anton von Werner, he did a wonderful job here at the base.

The S Bahn crosses the canal.

I'm not sure how you can express currywurst that is already a fast food

The Free University where Mrs N studied

Where Mrs N studied anatomy  - now sadly derelict.

A rare shot of the Author

Why are the red men dancing the Sirtaki?

Dem deutschen Volke - Norman Foster style

And so to bed - quite a large one actually

We stayed in the east at this cranky Kunsty Hotel where ear plugs are supplied due to the proximity of the S Bahn!

Beer drinking self propelled bar.

Spot the obvious mistake

Soon to close, a new airport is being built in the East at the site of Templehof - goodbye Tegel!

Urlaub auf dem Bauernhof

The title of this blog is in German - roughly translated it says "holidays in pig shit".  At least you will adopt the aroma after a weekend there.  You will also learn about biogas and GMWs.


Getting there:

As Robert Louis Stephenson is once rumoured to have said "it is better to travel hopefully than to arrive" or was it Plato or Homer?  Anyhow I caught the aeroplane from Manchester and flew to Hamburg.

This nice piece of French Canadian engineering is prepared at Manchester airport one fine Saturday morning quite early.

We climbed swiftly over Manchester enroute to Hamburg.

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

An Airfix kit of a breakfast served soon after take off and remaining impenetrable as we cross the Dutch coast.

It's always good to exit an airport on Zeppelinstrasse. I'm heading for the pig shit smell generating capital of Europe, Cloppenberg to catch up with Mrs Nikos who is working there in her peripatetic fashion.

Its Halloween and I by chance pass a Polo shop  - these motorcycle clothes shops are the size of Harrods and I manage to buy a bluetooth wotsit for my Schubert musical helmet at a bargain price. Mrs Nikos' 6th sense engages and I receive a panic "where are you" siren call.  Response "stopping for petrol dear".

Mrs Nikos on the job.

Now to the Farm.

Popular for family holidays, Mrs Nikos is staying here for a bit.

Good concept for a holiday: Whilst the parents are scrutinsing the farm animals,

the kids play with the biogas generating system X Box game

Wherever she goes Mrs N attracts pussies.

More pussies in the hay.

Bentheim pigs.

Geese in a flap

And now for something completely different.  The back garden of the farmhouse has been converted for shit to energy conversion.  If you need more information click -----> HERE

Herr Bauernhof kindly gave me a guided tour of the facilities.  It would appear that the shit is collected from here:

is cleaned in here:

And then the Hochgeschwindigkeitsscheißeauszieherpumpe comes into play somehow thus:

Controlled by this gubbins:

resulting in the necessity to install 10GW worth of solar panels in order to make a nice cup of tea:

PS

In the pig shed I found the remnants of the Father of my mighty BMW R1150GS motorcycle.

Seven Dream Bikes?

A recent gauntlet thrown down by fellow blogger Trobairitz requested that with unlimited funds what bike would I choose for each day of the week.

Easy to start with, I would not have:

My first wholly owned machine - good for commuting across South London to school and leaving a plume of blue smoke.

My second bike - I would not have one of these again either - slightly better than #1 for commuting across South London and leaving 2 plumes of blue smoke.

I lead a very sheltered childhood and missed out on British classics.  This would now be rectified by a stable of  British beauties:

A yellow one

A black and white twin  Trumpet

I do fancy Norton's - my school mate had one that also laid a plume of blue smoke across South London (piston ring problem?)

For more sedate runs around my local park this would fit the bill

Moving on to more modern European machinery, this one has nice curves.

Boxer Power: I always fancied a BMW R90S with its twin jugs exposed to the airflow.

A nice blue Jap Job operating on the 4 stroke cycle.

A scooter!  BMW are bringing them back with a vengeance.

To placate our American cousins I would have one of these too.

On Sundays I like to go flying.

All images taken from the internet  - I'm sorry about that.