BERLIN

Originally I'd planned to take Rich to Norfolk for his birthday trip. Neither of us have been to the east coast of England and on the internet I found a lovely looking little cottage in a pretty coastal village with lots of pubs and a Michelin-starred restaurant nearby. Unfortunately the holiday cottage company reckoned that, as mid-February was the 'high' season (seriously?), they would only allow me to book a cottage for a whole week. So I told them to get stuffed and booked three days in Berlin instead, which was cheaper. As it happened the Landrover conked out the day before we left so it's just as well we didn't go for the Norfolk option - throw in the cost of a hire car for a week and a fortnight in Florida would've been cheaper.

I managed to keep our destination a secret until we reached airport security, although he sussed we were flying somewhere when I chucked all of his toiletries out of his luggage. He didn't shriek with excitement when I gave him his boarding pass, but then Richard has never shrieked with excitement in his entire life and, although I had it on good authority from a number of sources, including Holly (@hollygable), that Berlin is ROCKING, I admit that to the uninitiated it does sound a little grey. And cold.

We arrived at our hotel (a funky little place called Art Hotel Luise on Luissenstrasse, close to the Reichstag) at about 11pm German time, and having dumped our luggage, set off to find a rocking bar for a nightcap. It was about minus 10 degrees and snowing and we made the fatal mistake of exiting our hotel and turning right. Three miles of trudging about the freezing pavements later and we hadn't found a single likely-looking establishment. Or in fact any establishment at all, that wasn't locked and barred. This was a bit depressing to be honest, although we've since come to realise that had we turned left, rather than right, we would have happened across many a cosy bar within 200 yards. But at the time it was a bit of a downer. I guess it was the equivalent of stomping around London's Parliament Square or Horseguard's Parade at 11pm on a Sunday night, going 'But where are the BARS? I thought London was supposed to be SWINGING.'

Maybe I should point out here that, ordinarily, I'd rise above such minor set backs, and view this experience as an adventure; a bit of a laugh. But due to life dealing me a few bummer cards lately, I've been struggling to remain buoyant. It was Richard's birthday the next day and I wasn't sure I was up to the task.

Next day started OK. Rich liked his presents. We found a nice place for breakfast, overlooking the frozen river Spree. Three eggs and ham on rye bread set us up nicely, and we set off for Tachela, a huge apartment block at the top end of Oranienburger Strasse which has become a massive squat, occupied by artists. Amazing place. You have to go there. It was incredible.

Next stop was KW on Auguste Strasse. Unfortunately this was closed on Mondays. I was disproportionately sad about that.

Rich is the sort of person who is variously described as 'laid back and easy-going' or 'completely lacking enthusiasm' depending on what mood I'm in. At this point it seemed to me he was the latter, and feeling unequal to the task of motivating both of us, I slumped.

He took my hand and headed for a bar, where an Irish Coffee hit some sort of 'spot' and next thing I knew tears were spilling effortlessly and silently out of my eyes. Fucking Hell. Fucking fucking arsing Hell. It was Rich's fucking BIRTHDAY for fuck's sake. Birthdays are a BIG DEAL.

Anyway. Better out than in, as they say. I felt better, although a bit sheepish, after that and so we went up the Fernsehturm Tower. This is a massive phallus that acts as a landmark all over Berlin. Fortunately it's solid and you don't have to climb up it (we do badly at wobbly towers - we failed in Bruges, Prague and didn't even attempt the Eiffel Tower) but you get whizzed up in a lift and then spewed out at the top before you have the chance to freak out. Was nice up there. And there was a bar.

Was quite a trek back so we jumped on a train. We couldn't work out how to buy a ticket so didn't bother, and fortunately got away with it. Could've been a disaster though, getting arrested in East Berlin an' all.

Found a lovely Vietnamese Restaurant and had a stupendous (early) dinner and hit the sack by 8pm. Rock and roll, baby. Rock and roll.