One can really come across very strange people in a tenement. One neighbor of mine is everything else but a hot chick, because she is neither young nor as cute as Tina is, but she keeps her virginity even until today. She immediately confessed to me exactly that, and I think, this is an honest statement and not to be compared with any stupid verdict from some macho guy who believes to have been in bed with only the devil knows how many women, riding the chicks easily and without any problems from orgasm to orgasm. This lady believes that truth makes free and everything else will be brought into daylight some whenever day anyway.

I speak of Grandma Kruse. She is 80, has silver-gray hair, a black hangover and an insatiable interest for my boring life, because she herself is leading a boring life. Furthermore, she has an insatiable desire to tell me stories from her past. For me, Grandma Kruse incarnates the German version of Miss Marple. She knows exactly when I leave my apartment and when I return. Nevertheless, she is amiable; I think at least and has a good heart. She is happily leaving her smoke-free animal household anytime to water my plants in the case I am at my mother’s in Belgium. This surely gives her enough opportunities to sneak around in my apartment. If she does, I don’t mind. Four weeks ago, I didn’t see her in a while and was happy not to come across her obituary in the local press. The lady was forced to spend ten days in hospital due to a cardiovascular disease until she was finally standing on her two legs again.

The suburban train arrived. I press the little green gleaming button, the door opens and I find myself boarding without a ticket, but instead with a half empty soda bottle. Inside, sinister frowning figures squat in numbers, figures you could easily find hanging out on the substitute’s bench of the VFL Osnabrück, the relegation during the second half of the season already a done deal. Shortly before the doors close, two more men jump onto the train. Controllers! Starting up with me! I have a ticket, but it is only valid for the express train from the city of Essen.

My explanation that the ticket machine wasn’t working is ignored. Damn ticket machines! After I’ve paid an increased transportation charge, the next stop arrives. A lot has happened on the train. The other passengers have risen from their seats and are ready to get off. As the doors open, the mob quickly jumps out of the train. One of them, who has more piercings than healthy teeth in his mouth, knocks on the window, sticks his furry tongue out at the ticket inspectors and finally gives them the bird for good measure.