"Ghost pictures"

A "ghost picture" (or to use the correct German word, a "Phantombild") is what is called, in the English-speaking world, an "identikit picture" or "photofit picture". Sometimes, such pictures of potential criminals are also called "artist's impression" and, if the image is the result of several eyewitness accounts, then they're called "facial composites".

Why have I raised the topic? Because I've been watching a lot of episodes of Die Rosenheim Cops on the ARD TV channel and witnesses are often asked to go with a police artist to make a "Phantombild". Often, they are so good that they look like photos. I wonder how accurate such images are in real life, though.

In the last century, there used to be a game show on UK TV called The Krypton Factor. One of the tasks the contestants had to do was watch a brief video clip and then identify one of the actors in that film from 9 people lined up in the studio. Now, the contestants knew what was coming and so were extra vigilant, but even they couldn't always identify the correct person.

So how can the people in crime series describe a person they happened to see for a second or two in such detail? I know, I know...it's not real life.

I'm pretty good at recognising people, but terrible at remembering names. I'll be watching some TV programme or film and think, "I've seen him/her before", and then it's off to IMDB to check which other productions I've seen them in. And I'm always right. Basically, I recognise people by their eyes. It's hard to change the eyes, whereas you can always have a "nose job", put make-up on or dye your hair or cut it.

Despite being pretty good at recognising people's faces again, I know that I couldn't describe anyone in enough detail to make an identikit picture - not even my parents. Not even my own face. I couldn't tell you the eye colour of anyone but myself. (Green with a tinge of brown.)

So hats off to those witnesses in Die Rosenheim Cops that are so excellent at describing faces they've only glimpsed for a second.

What do editors in the UK do for their salary?

I read a lot. Crime, comedy, the classics and a lot of non-fiction. Mostly books in English, and some even in German and French. And when it comes to books in English, I'll read books published in the UK and the US. I'll even read the cornflakes box if there's nothing else available.

Now, when my students find out I am from the UK and so speak the British variant of the English language, they often wax lyrical about how much they love the British accent (to which I often ask, "Which one?") and how much they dislike American English. I then often say that if a foreigner heard a Bavarian person speaking, would that mean that all Germans speak the same? It's called "tarring everyone with the same brush". And, no, not all Germans sound as though they come from deepest, darkest Bavaria.

One thing I have noticed, though, about UK and US publications is that I have never, ever, ever found any mistake in a book published in the United States. Sadly, I cannot say the same about books issued in the UK.

Until a few weeks ago, I thought the worst-edited book I had ever had the pleasure of reading was Springtime for Germany: Or How I Learned to Love Lederhosen by Ben Donald. Most of the mistakes in the book were spelling mistakes concerning German words and place names. With the Internet, though, it would have been very easy to check the orthography,

Then earlier this year, I read a book called How to Be Confident by a gym instructor called James Smith. I picked it up for a euro at a Book & Cake sale at the English library and as I am a sucker for self-help books...

Oh, my!! Nearly every sentence contained a grammar or spelling mistake. I couldn't believe it. What was the editor thinking - letting so many mistakes go uncorrected? However, almost at the end of the book, the author admitted that the book probably (probably??) contained a lot of mistakes but that he hoped he had got his message across. Which, to be fair, he had. Okay, at least he acknowledged that he wasn't a great writer.

And then I was recommended two books that deal with legal issues. They were Justice: What's the Right Thing to Do? by Michael J. Sandel, an American philosopher and The Critical Legal Pocketbook by various authors in the UK.

I took them with me on holiday. The American book deals with concepts such as 'positive discrimination' and how far these concepts are.  The UK book deals with a much larger variety of legal issues and some of the short articles were very illuminating, such as how to see the legal system from a coloured or female point of view. Like the architecture that surrounds us, the justice system seems to be made by men for men.

But what really shocked me by this British book was the poor spelling and grammar. I started with one article written by a female barrister who didn't belong to the white majority in the UK. A barrister!? How could she qualify to become a barrister without knowing where to place a comma? Did no teacher at school or lecturer at university or even a colleague point out that you don't put a comma between the subject and the verb - no matter how long the subject may be? 

I'm too lazy to get up and get the book again, but she'd write things like this: "The woman down the road who lives at number 43, is nice." Or "Everyone who commits a crime, must be punished." (Those weren't actual sentences of hers... but you get the idea of her writing style.) 

As I read on, I found spelling mistakes such as "naiive" - oh, yes. Even though, if you type the word in Word, it will automatically suggest the correct spelling (which is naïve - but plain naive is also acceptable these days).

Other mistakes included grammar, writing 'intend' rather than 'instead', 'in fat' rather than 'in fact', starting long complicated sentences and then forgetting to write the main sentence, missing words out. And one punctuation mistake after another - sometimes on every second line. Incredible.

At one point, I thought that students had written the articles - after all, a university had published it. But, no, the texts were written by solicitors, barristers and senior academics. It was horrendous.

Due to all these errors, I often had to read a sentence a few times over before I could figure out what was meant. 

And when I couldn't take any more of this horrific British English book, I'd put it down and pick up Sandel's book and, ah, everything was wonderful. Sanity again. Wonderfully expressed ideas, no mistakes whatsoever - and I did look for them. 

Whenever anyone says to me that British English is superior to American English and that the Americans speak 'slang' (their word, not mine), I will tell them about this reading experience. Time permitting.

A new word for you

You may have noticed the weather recently, It's the middle of June and people are still going out wearing anoraks, scarves and winter coats. One of my students told me the other day that, so far this year, there has only been one day when she hasn't worn a vest (Unterhemd).

Well, the other day I came across a word that exactly describes the kind of weather we have been having this month: Juneuary. 

This is when you have the weather of January in June. I don't know who came up with it, but I think it's sheer genius.

Mad dogs and Englishmen

I know that the disappearance and eventual discovery of Dr Michael Mosley even made it into the German press. Dr Mosley qualified as a medical doctor but decided to join the BBC instead where he ended up presenting lots of programmes on TV and on the radio as well as writing books - all on the topic of health.

What caused him to focus on what one can do to improve one's health was the early death of his father at the age of 74. His father had developed diabetes and Dr Mosley didn't want to suffer in the same way, so when he, too, was diagnosed with diabetes, he did all he could to reverse it, which he did. He then became an evangelist for good health, promoting, in particular, the 5:2 fasting diet. (This is when you eat only 600 calories on two days of the week but eat sensibly on the other five.) As he said, his father never got to see his grandchildren grow up and that's not a fate that he wanted to suffer.

Well, Dr Michael Mosley is now dead. At the age of 67. Seven years earlier than his own father. Despite all his good health tips, his healthy lifestyle, and the fact that his own wife is a GP (general practitioner).

And why did he die so early? Because this qualified doctor, with all the research he had done over decades, thought it was a good idea to go for a walk in the early afternoon, in open countryside, in the searing heat of 37 degrees Celsius, with a small bottle of water, an umbrella and no mobile phone. Two hours later, he was dead. Of heatstroke. So all that healthy living was for nothing.

How could he think going for a walk in those temperatures was a good idea? How could his GP wife let him? Sometimes, cliches originate from general truths. One of them is "when in Rome, do as the Romans do". Does the local population on that small Greek island go for a walk at the hottest time of the day? Do they? Do they heck. So what made him think it would be fine for him to do so?

Noel Coward, an English composer, playwright, director, actor and wit (a sort of 20th century Oscar Wilde), once wrote a song called Mad Dogs & Englishmen. Basically, the gist of the song went like this: Mad dogs and Englishmen, Go out in the midday sun. It seems that it's still true today.

Here is the suave and urbane Noel Coward (died 1973) singing his own song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkEd3WgR8qw

And as he goes at quite a pace, here are the lyrics:

In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire
To tear their clothes off and perspire.
It's one of those rules that the greatest fools obey,
Because the sun is much too sultry
And one must avoid its ultry-violet ray.

The native grieve when the white men leave their huts,
Because they're obviously definitely nuts!

Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun,
The Japanese don't care to.
The Chinese wouldn't dare to,
Hindoos and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one.
But Englishmen detest a siesta.
In the Philippines
There are lovely screens
To protect you from the glare.
In the Malay States
There are hats like plates
Which the Britishers won't wear.
At twelve noon
The natives swoon
And no further work is done.
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.

It's such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see
That though the English are effete,
They're quite impervious to heat,
When the white man rides every native hides in glee,
Because the simple creatures hope he
Will impale his solar topee on a tree.

It seems such a shame
When the English claim
The earth
That they give rise to such hilarity and mirth.

Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.
The toughest Burmese bandit
Can never understand it.
In Rangoon the heat of noon
Is just what the natives shun.
They put their Scotch or Rye down
And lie down.
In a jungle town
Where the sun beats down
To the rage of man and beast
The English garb
Of the English sahib
Merely gets a bit more creased.
In Bangkok
At twelve o'clock
They foam at the mouth and run,
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.

Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.
The smallest Malay rabbit
Deplores this foolish habit.
In Hongkong
They strike a gong
And fire off a noonday gun
To reprimand each inmate
Who's in late.
In the mangrove swamps
Where the python romps
There is peace from twelve till two.
Even caribous
Lie around and snooze;
For there's nothing else to do.
In Bengal
To move at all
Is seldom, if ever done.
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday sun.

Source: Musixmatch

Dear Noel in his younger days:

Blame the cold and the rain on me

Two Februarys ago, that is to say, in February 2023, I had a 4.6 m long awning (Markise) installed on my balcony. It cost me an arm and a leg, but since Germany had been having heatwaves for 19 years and had been suffering from a drought for the last six years, I didn't think the situation was going to change.

Even at 7.30 a.m. in the spring months, I had to leave the balcony and go indoors because my east-facing balcony is a heat trap. Put a thermometer out on the balcony table at breakfast time and you could watch the mercury rise to 50 degrees C in a matter of minutes. How much higher it would actually go, I don't know. The scale stops at 50 C. I could, however, sunbathe on my balcony at 8 a.m. in March or April. 

I remember once having breakfast on the balcony with my oldest cousin and my legs started cooking. Since my jeans are always black in colour, you can imagine how the material soaks up the early morning heat. When I showed my cousin my skin, it was mottled. The heat did that.

And, of course, my poor plants were exposed to the heat all morning, until the sun disappeared around the building at about 1 p.m. They really suffered.

Thus, in the end, I bit the bullet and actually spent some money. Not an easy thing for me to do. And that was in February of last year.

Since then, we've had rain, rain and more rain. Germany's drought was officially deemed over in about October 2023 and for the first time in years, the lake in the local park is now actually full to the brim. Marvellous. However, I only used the awning about four times last year and this year have done so only once. Once! 

We're heading towards the middle of June and not long after that it will be the longest day of the year and the days will then start to wane, and I'm still going to bed with a hot water bottle. Still wearing anoraks and scarves when I go outside. Still wearing layers to keep warm. Today, I even took my long, thick cardigan out of the wardrobe again. And don't even think of leaving home without an umbrella. You may think it's stopped raining for the day, but the weather is just trying to lure you outside so it can rain on you again.

So if you are wondering, what the hell happened to all the heat we used to have, blame me. I finally go to the expense of having an awning installed to protect myself and my plants from the searing heat, and the weather changes drastically and we have nothing but rain and cold. Go on. My shoulders are broad. I can bear the blame.

Not my actual balcony, but I did go for grey and yellow stripes in a different pattern.

"I'm NOT an idiot!" - "Are you sure about that?"

I'm still trying to figure out why a certain cyclist believes he is not an idiot.

This happened about a month ago. There I was, leading a walk, when all of a sudden, I saw a cyclist hurtling determinedly towards us. "He's got to stop soon," I thought to myself. "He's got to stop some time." Then a second later, "Why isn't he stopping???" And I cannot remember what I said to the woman walking next to me, but I do know that I used the word 'idiot', which happens to be the same word in German, just with a capital letter, i.e. "Idiot". 

At this, the cyclist finally came to an abrupt halt. "I am not an idiot," he stated. What was said then, I cannot remember at all. 

At one point, however, I looked behind me to see what the cyclist could see and what I saw was this: 17 grown people, two large metal barriers, staggered and designed to force cyclists to dismount from their bikes, a narrow path only wide enough for two people and a slope, since we were on the side of a hill. And this "I am not an idiot" person thought, "Oh, it's okay. I'll just cycle through this crowd of people and metal barriers on a narrow path on the side of a hill."

For the next few nights, every time I closed my eyes, I had visions of the cyclist slipping and sliding into at least two people and throwing them down the slope. Would this "I am not an idiot" cyclist have looked after anyone with a broken leg? Would he have paid compensation for pain or loss of earnings? 

What if we had had a dog with us that might have leapt up as he passed, thus causing him to skid? What if one of us had some condition that meant he or she had jerky movements, which might have startled him - and caused him to skid? What if one of the 17 of us had not seen him coming as they were watching where they put their feet or looking at their phone and stepped in his path?

All this went through my mind as I saw this moron cycle towards us, but he himself saw 17 people, two metal barriers, a narrow path and a slope and thought: "Perfectly safe, I'll just cycle through all this."

What an idiot.

Exploding eggs

You know how they tell you not to put whole eggs into the microwave because they'll explode? Well, I have no microwave - much to the shock of my former Japanese hairdresser who asked what I did with any leftovers of a meal - to which I replied "What leftovers?". No, I don't have a microwave but I have still managed to make three eggs explode within the last week.

And how did I manage that, you may well be asking. Well, I'll tell you. Just put a pan with lots of water and an egg or two on to boil and forget all about it. Eventually, from another room, you'll hear a small explosion and you will realise that, once again, you've let a pan boil dry, which is why the eggs have exploded. 

The first two were still edible, the third wasn't, so I gave up and bought pre-boiled painted eggs from the supermarket. Not so nice as warm eggs, but I won't have to fear the destruction of yet another pan.

The safer option.