There's a song in my heart!

Life continues unabated, I love words that sound good, and without much in the way of disturbance, which on a grand scale of 1-10 would mean my life is teetering on the brink of a glass of milk.  Still, the past weekend saw the entire weekend given over to 'Bardentreffen' a free music festival in the old town centre.  Every man and his dog seemed to be in town for the musical shindig, I only there for the filming and not much else.

It's not that I don't like live music, one has to learn to appreciate the finer things in life, but when you're trying to sleep and God's rock band is playing immediately around the corner from you, it doesn't take much imagination to realise why you fell out with God in the first place.  And I'm not joking either.  Just around the corner from me there's a little courtyard, or passageway, where you can just about herd together 50 disciples and a rock band.  The courtyard is the back exit for the local offices of some religious order or other; not the Scientology lot due to Germany banning them for being somekind of weird cult, I've no idea if they are weird, strange possibly, weird dunno.  Of course, one of the joys, I'm led to believe, is that all religions like to make the occasional song and dance either in defence of their right to exist, or in celebration that they still do exist.  But the use of 6,000 watt amplifers, throbbing woofers and tweeters and enough bass to give any tenor constipation for a month of Sundays isn't the best way to celebrate His or Her Worshipfulness. 

This was all compounded by having Hermann & the Munsters up the back passage, whilst the singer across the way on another stage belted out his version of Irish Bluegrass, and no doubt having an odd draw here and there, launching a frontal attack.  This particular singer was definitely weird in his choice of songs.  When I first heard him he was cranking out a blues number, which I have to admit was perfectly passable, followed by an Irish folksong.  It did remind me of those awful karaoke nights I've never been too, but seen all too often on the telly when I had one.  I do give anyone due respect for having the audacity and gumption to willingly inflict themselves on the non-paying public, but what I do find particularly unforgivable is the god awful ringing in my bloody ears for the last three days!

By Sunday afternoon I'd decided enough was enough and stayed in, happily missing the final day of the festival.  I say happily in the sense that based on what I'd heard on Friday and Saturday, time was much better spent avoiding the last of Germany's got talent roadshow.  However, the end of the festival is always a sad moment, not because the sound of music has disappeared up its own alpine crevice, but because it's the signal that in five short months the Xmas market will be back.  Now that is truly depressing!