Soon I'll hear old winter's song

I suppose there is no arguing with it: Summer, though it may never have started, is already over. 

12°C in the morning, storms that shake even small mews houses, and leaves that stretch the variation of possible shades of green far too far into yellow for it to seem reversible.
I believe the total count of days of 20°+ this year was about eight. And the "+" means that the maximum was something like 23°. For an hour. Damn you, Ireland, last year I defended your meteorological qualities against the skeptics but this year, I've joined their ranks.
Now off to dig out winter clothes... oh wait, no need: I was pretty much wearing the same stuff year round anyway.

Faking the season

Ever since I moved to Dublin, I seem immensely interested in discussing the weather. Not sure if it's cultural (as all English school books would have you believe: This language seems built for weather-related small talk) or just out of despair with the lack of proper seasons, combined with the continued hope that yes, one day, it will be summer. (Actually, that came true: Summer lasted about one day.) So when you see summer end before it even seems to have arrive, what can you do? Yes, exactly: Try the "Summer" setting on your favourite Android camera app and avoid looking at the world without that friendly digital filter. (Yes, I see it too: It makes it look kind of... sunny-autumnal. Still better than rainy-autumnal though...)

Over before it's begun

I'm quite sure that this is the first time I've seen a ripe chestnut before my sister's birthday, which should be at the peak of summer and traditionally involves complaints about the heat and demands for ice cream. Not in Ireland. August 26th and the trees have already begun to drop decidedly autumnal bits and pieces onto Dublin streets. Meh.

What remains of the (birth)day

Oh wow, has this blog been neglected. Well.
It's not for the lack of pictures to post or stories to tell, so other than way-too-long days at the office, I have no excuse.

So. Jumping straight back into this: Rounded squares shall be the new format of choice to capture snippets of daily life. Here, it's a birthday "cake" (well, a decorated 'Amerikaner' pastry) that was a) tasty and b) a Space Invader kit voucher, because glass mosaic tiles were hard to bring across Europe.

And when the bakery offers only subobtimal wrapping, so that the frosting on your pastry gets damaged, what better way to cover that than a shooting space invader?

Whom should I trust?

I am so confused.

German romance

Georgian spring

It was spring, glorious and sunny, all week while I had to be inside in a nearly windowless office. Now it's Good Friday and rain is here. Let's hope this is a meteorological manifestation of pure Catholic spirit that will end tomorrow.
I am at work, for I was very German and assumed that something that is not an official holiday will require me to be at work. That is incorrect: It is not an official holiday but we didn't have to work anyway. Riiight. Oh well, so I save this free day for later. Now that spring is over, that seems less of a loss.

A day in the life of... (California Dreaming, 24.3.2011)