Du hast den Farbfilm vergessen

This morning I discovered Nina Hagen. Not that she was lost or anything. I heard about her in reference to Angela Merkel. Angela, who is stepping down as German Chancellor, picked a Hagen song to be included in her farewell bash. It seemed an odd coupling to me, given that Nina Hagen is a rather outrageous punk/new romantic and Angela a devout Christian, but then I heard the song and translated the lyrics. After discovering that they both came from East Germany (GDR), it makes a sort of sense.

The song, Du hast den Farbfilm vergessen (You didn’t bring the colour film) was released in 1974 and is about a holiday that is ruined because the boyfriend only brings black and white film for the camera, rendering the holiday snaps dull. It satirically refers to how everything in East Germany was, basically, colourless. How it was given such a wide release when less critical songs were censored, is anyone’s guess. Possibly because it’s funny. Apparently, about 60% of the East German populations knew the lyrics.

The Merkel connection comes from the fact that she, also, came from East Berlin (her Lutheran priest father moved her there when she was but an infant). She knew the song and, presumably, the lyrics. Maybe she’ll sing along during the tattoo. My admiration for Angela has grown.

Maybe my feeling of connection also comes from the fact that we are all around the same age. I guess that makes them my peers.

After purchasing the song, playing it on the Sonos a few times and laughing along at lyrics I couldn’t possibly understand, I grabbed Mirinda and, we went to the Holly Bush for Saturday brunch.

As usual, it was pretty popular with both people and dogs. The girls were not alone. Neither were we. As usual, the food was excellent.

The kitchen is now back to cooking all day so, we assume, they have the extra staff they were lacking before.

After a very filling and delicious brunch, Mirinda headed off for a long and lovely wander around the wilds of Frensham while I, like someone’s discarded grandpa, sat in a folding chair and read.

Don’t be fooled by the photo above. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, warm. There was a vicious wind which blew icy cold air at me, every now and then. It was as if the wind knew when I was feeling most comfortable and would fix it with a few cold blasts.

After about 90 minutes, I’d had enough and went and sat in the car. In the car next to Max, I noticed another old chap was doing the same.

Late in the day, I found out that Antony Sher died of cancer two days ago. He was 72. I think we saw him in something, years ago, but I can’t find the entry. Having read about him today, I wish I’d seen his Richard III.

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