Discovering Hamburg
On another beautiful day I cycled The Airnimal from our opulent lodgings in the city centre from the Binnenalster, down to the Elbe east along the river and then north to today's Arena. Through the throng of tourists in St Pauli and on to the Altonaer Fischmarkt; past the beaches at Elbstrand and north to Altonaer Volkspark. Unforgettable nights in Große Freiheit in the nineties and Fabrik more recently; a very fancy hotel by a frozen Außenalster on a promo trip in the nineties—these had only been and introduction to Hamburg.
I stopped at a tiny restaurant nestled in the corner of the fish market. The dozen or so people eating at the utilitarian picnic tables in the sunshine and the could-not-be-less-auspicious location piqued my interest. At a cash only counter inside I was given a hand written list of the fish on offer in half-a-dozen languages. A chunk of cod was pulled from the display in front of me and with ticket number 47 in my hand I sat at a table and waited while it was cooked. Fifteen minutes later it was delivered to me with some fried potatoes and a spoon of tartar sauce, probably from a jar. I don't expect to eat better fish than I was served at Fisch & So.
Travelling around major cities in Europe (and having the opportunity to explore them by bike) is, post Brexit, a bittersweet thing. For all of my adult life I was a citizen of these cities. They were places I had rights: places I could fall in love with and fall in love in. Places I could call home. And it felt good to know that my children and my children's children would too. Now me and my family have been made foreigners, restricted to the limits of Little Britain.
An idea has been forming in my head that the pathetic and inhumane political milieu that currently shames our sad little country (STOP THE BOATS) is not about keeping anyone out—it is actually a rearguard manoeuvre directed at the citizens and denizens of Middlesbrough and Wisbech and Boston to persuade them that these are desirable places, at the same time making it impossible for them to move to Breton or Andalucia. Or Hamburg. Meanwhile the Dysons and Ratcliffes and Rees-Moggs and their vile chums brazenly move their industry and their assets where they please with impunity.