I find myself in the bizarre situation of meeting the family of a girl I’ve known for a grand total of around ten days. This should be a laugh a minute.

Touch down in Berlin after the usual slog of three different airports and two flights.  I hate the fact I have to put my life on the line twice just for a cheap travel.  Enduring two take offs isn’t good for my nerves.  The only upside is that I get to put a Belgium flag sticker on the guitar, except I can’t find one.  Honestly these countries need to sort out their souvenir priorities.  I console myself with the fact I can just cut up a German flag, turn it on its side and rearrange the colours.

I’ve wanted to go to this city for years.  Much like Rome, it’s been on my doorstep and I’ve never bothered my arse to go and see it.  Friends have been banging on for an eon about how good the nightlife is, and just how wonderful it is in general.  Then of course there is it’s history, which I’ve always been facinated with, but didn’t know enough about.  All I have is a fist sized piece of the Berlin wall, and vague memories of news footage of people pulling it down back in 1989.  It was safe to say I was really looking forward to this.  I just had to get over the ‘meeting the sisters’ hurdle.

Which isn’t as easy as I would have liked.  I understand perfectly that there is lots going on with the wedding and the family hasn’t seen each other for a while, but I do feel considerably out of place by the time we’re sitting down for a meal together.  It’s not anyones fault save maybe mine, and indeed the situation is rather an unusual one, but I just had the impression I was intruding.  Of course I was; this wasn’t my party at all.

I’ve always had a bit of a knack for meeting the parents or siblings of girls in my life, if of course it ever got that far and they didn’t give me the “it’s not you it’s me” after a couple of dates.  I’ve actually had parents comment about how disappointed they were when their daughter dumps me.  It appears I’ve had more charm with mums than I do with their offspring.  Perhaps I’m not playing to my strengths and I should start dating cougars.  Either way being ‘interviewed’ by the family the first time you meet them is always something I’ve been comfortable with, but this seems a little weird.  I can’t quite put my finger on it, suffice to say I was happier when it was just the two of us at the festival.  Maybe this is the first time the family hates me but the girl doesn’t?  I wonder if I’ll ever get the balance right

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