I finally got my chicken and chips at Hühnerhaus, sunny day so long queue. While ordering I remembered J’s words ‘Every time you speak German a German drops dead’. It’s my pronunciation apparently. Sat on the steps outside Edelweiss in Görlitzer Park and rammed half a chicken down my neck. M called at noon. T was having a black tie party that had started at 8am in Prenzlaur Berg and not that many people turned up, so we should go, you know – ‘to be sound.’ Electronic music, a DJ, his basement, no daylight, black tie. I decided not be to sound.

There was that unicyclist in the middle of the path – unicycling and juggling, the very same one I’ve seen do the very same thing in front of traffic at red lights. He cycles away when the lights go green. How does he get paid or does he just do it to cheer up the drivers?

Met the writing group on Pflügerstraße, they were making a day out of brunch, sitting outside, green city – as edible as the brunch. We talked about Sally’s short story and Tony’s writing block. Then I met K, the set designer who was set painting the play thats running time is 14 hours. We were going to see if we could sit through it. We lasted 45 mins. Lots of nudity, fake blood and mess. K would be doing a lot of re painting the following day. Mauerpark karaoke was infinitely more entertaining and the sun was still peeping over the no hills of Berlin.

We met M in formal wear and went to a gig in someone’s apartment in Friedrichshain. We sat on their couch and reclined into three singer song writers while drinking tea.
On wandering outside still sewn up in the music K suggested we return to 14 hour show to see the end.

The end was rather like the middle and K decided at 2:30am to get to work, the set had been decimated.
H was graduating from puppet school the following week and they were rehearsing through the night for a morning puppet show at their theatre, so M and I decided to go watch them. The smell of practice in a theatre. I could curl up and go to sleep on the tension of a tech. And I did.

Tomorrow was Sunday and it was a gallery weekend and if Berlin has anything it has galleries and I would…

The Irish theatre Festival is coming to Berlin. In three days it will kick off. From the 9th of May to the 18th be prepared to meander nightly through its line up. Seriously meander nightly through its line up because it’s varied and strong. Coming once will rob you of the full picture. There are many pictures. But it’s Berlin and there is so much to do and sample and happen upon, so very many pictures already, so why should an Irish Theatre Festival draw the Berliner?

You will have to take the word of an Irish playwright and actor (me) whose been living in Berlin for two years with all the artly delights a heart could desire, yet she counts the days to Irish Theatre Fest because if there is anything she misses about home, it’s exactly that which is getting on a plane tomorrow to make its way here. Now she will stop talking about herself in the third person.
Come with us and feel free to drop your comments here along the way. I will continue to talk about here and there and what happens over the nine days in English Theatre Berlin.
Join us for readings and plays and music. Dare I say, join us like you join Paddy’s Day – there’s probably no comparison except you’re welcome and you won’t regret it.