Thursday, 7 May 2009

Mating season

Been away from this baby a little while. Mainly because of being in Berlin, but also because of a massive essay which I'm neglecting to blog. It's only fair.

So, Berlin was utterly lush. A series of Vice-esque Do's and Don'ts were photographed, due to the dichotomy of people being either a)incredibly and effortlessly beautiful and interesting, or, b)horrendously epitomising all the bad things about continental fashion.

Someone's got Daddy issues.


That's better.

Fun was had by all. We nearly missed our flight home, and I can't help but feel that might have something to do with our subconsciouses never wanting us to leave.
Anyway, even if we hadn't realised we didn't want to leave all the raft-dance floors and grafitti-ed shack clubs and lesbian barbeques behind (this woman served us warm cava in plastic cups. She looked like my Mum crossed with the boys I used to fancy when I was 15, and I had no idea she was famous), arriving in Edinburgh to hoards of the middle-aged trussed up in varying kinds of Cagoule certainly made us realise. Mass groaning up the street, followed by my companion shouting 'ROUGH', quite, quite accidentally - potentially a case of post-holiday Tourette's - was slightly cured by a desert/beverage combination from Starbucks (something pleasantly absent from my Kreuzberg trip)and a sit in the park.
Which is when my previously-held notions that humans are also susceptible to mating season were fulfilled before my very eyes. It was a lovely sunny day, but it was still bloody cold. However, despite this, a Bermuda-esque triangle of horizontal, smooching, groping, writhing couples were attempting to release some hormones on the grass.
Now I never get this. Only once was I in such a position, and spent the entire three and a half minutes insanely paranoid over what the passers by might think. This was not only in a park, but that one by Waverly Station which have an actual viewing gallery built in, let alone the varying ball games, toddlers and other hazards that come out to play on a bank holiday weekend.
My friend and I realised it could only be due to mating season. Sun is out, everyone's getting a bit nekked, and that inner animal instinct is telling us to commit mass P.D.A with gay abandon. Maybe I'm getting a little old - looking at these whippersnappers just made me wonder quite how red they would go should their mothers walk past...

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