Marjory Frauts (marjory) wrote,
Marjory Frauts
marjory

Outraged of Tunbridge Wells

My bah-humbuggery extends its squamous tendrils to the Weihnachtsmarkt of Göttingen. Actually, I quite like our little Christmas Market. It is not grandiose in the least, but I can skitter through it quite happily. There's a ferris wheel, there are stalls selling all kinds of foodstuffs from chesnuts to half metre-long bratwurst, there is a glassblower's stall and a fossil stall which I have to march past averting my eyes as I go (because what our overstuffed flat really needs is it's own reenactment of a mesozoic seabed and a homage to the joys of perimineralisation. Part Deux.), to name but a few. What I can't stand are the Glühwein stalls.

Actually, that is unfair of me. Really, what I can't stand are the people who feel obliged to hit said stalls from the moment they come out of work until the market shuts down at 9:30pm or so. They are menaces. Hundreds of the buggers stand around in huddles imbibing far more alcohol than they are accustomed to, breathing out cheap wine fumes and dropping glasses. Occasionally, some of them will go off and purchase some manner of sausagery and then proceed to yark it up again. I generally am a fan of the colour purple, but there are limits, y'know...

Actually, the yarkers and smashers are just about okay by me. I can steer well clear of their yarking grounds (mostly) and yarkers tend to head home (as that sort of thing puts a crimp on one's evening, I am given to believe). What I really don't like are the people who have downed half a dozen or so mulled-wine beverages, who then decide to hit the pubs en masse and round off the evening with half a dozen or so beers or glasses of schnapps. It's a natural reaction to succumb to the thirst brought on by alcohol consumption, Lord knows I know that. But SERIOUS GLÜHWEIN+BEER/SCHNAPPS=UGLINESS! Don't mix yer piggin' drinks! Lots of drunken people together in confined spaces tend to make for trouble and excessive misbehaviour as people get shovey, miserable, pukey, mildly psychotic or just plain crass as the admixture of doom hits their beleaguered synapses. And, of a morning, spotting the legion of poor souls with growly hangovers also tends to brighten the festive season...

Soapbox now dismounted (before someone either vomits on it or decides to attack it).
Tags: Göttingen
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