Vatertag

The advantage of very bad weather and Covid combined lead to an Ascension Day that was not accompanied by the constant roaring of heavy and not so heavy motorcycles. Because yesterday it was this day of the year again: German Vatertag, the day when hundreds of bikers make it over the border to congest the mountainroads, changing them into a race course before they fuel up with beer and drive back home again. We are living next to two of such motorways. Narrow street, dangerous curves- a biker´s paradise! Please do not ask me how often we have seen a helicopter flying off those who ended up a rock face. Biking is not a fun sport, even less for for inexpert drivers who hear the call of freedom once per year then haul their bike out of the shed to do their yearly Vatertags-race. This might go bad, and even more when you are drunk. German Vatertag is for the die-hard who die too often. I am glad that this year German Father´s Day did not happen the usual way because it got literally washed away.
From Monday on we will no more need a Covid test to get out of town, huzzah! So Elsa and her parents won´t have a problem when they will go back home. And if number three thinks that the bed in the guest room is too narrow for a couple and a child he can wander to the conservatory and sleep on the new sofa. Well, it´s not a totally new one, but only used when number two had a guest in the house. Conservatory is no ideal place for a sofa, especially when you have nosy neighbours and noisy birds outside, but it´s better than nothing! Now all I have to do is clear out the guest room. This one is full of playthings hubby is dead sure the young ones will need when they are here for a visit...