The much-published image of a Liverpudlian boy-band cheerfully zebra-crossing Abbey Road, is one familiar the world over. Miraculously, it has never gone threadbare! In times when impatiently awaited new albums regularly catapulted the international fan base into a state of frenzy, the venue of recording stood a serious chance of attaining similarly excessive attention.
It is probably one of the most peculiar job offers ever made by an official body and it may well be that it was initially considered a hoax by those who stumbled upon it. No joke though. Instead, employer City of London tempts applicants with an unconventional job description and generous remuneration: 35,000 Pound Sterling for a leisurely 2,5-day week’s work. Taking London’s slackening night-life to new realms – or back to the ones of the past – will be the chosen contestant’s assigned task. Whereby the job title’s regal connotation might exercise additional attraction: Having „Night Czar“ embossed on one’s business card may perhaps raise a puzzled eyebrow here and there, but just imagine: Czar!
Many a mini golf course has popped up in Britain over the recent past: in the countryside, in themed parks or on lost islands, on rooftops, in junkyards or – like this one – in a former WWII bunker building situated on one of London’s poshest locations. The two 9-hole courses available are named after the one significant characteristic they each feature: a picturesque windmill with moving blades and a welcomingly illuminated Lighthouse.
For the conscientiously-thinking German of the past centuries, keeping physically fit was equal to a national duty to be fulfilled – like going to church on Holy Sundays. Not a chance of ever playing truant. The constant surveillance by a rigorously watchful society saw to these rules not being neglected. Meanwhile in Germany, like in any place else in the world, people who work out regularly on a voluntary basis have become rarer and those zigzagging between sporadic exertion and hard-core couch-potatoing a sad majority.
German discipline was worthwhile being exported to ensure that far-away expats would not forget to stay in shape. And this is how the German Gymnasium at King’s Cross came to be. The money for „the first purpose-built gymnasium in the United Kingdom“, opened in 1865, was raised entirely by the German Gymnastics Society and the German community in London. 6,000 pounds well invested. Even women were allowed to use the facility: a freedom otherwise alien to ladies of that era.
No Carbs, Fräulein?
It is an undeniable fact: The common sausage is not a stunner to look at – nor does it photograph well. No matter the species, a regular Wurst’s mere shape and colour are giving food stylists a hard time: There is absolutely no way to let it shine. Yet, once thrown on to the grill and noisily sizzling, its distinct aroma promptly exerts its wondrous magnetism and lures entranced workers and bankers, housewives and business women, young, old or canine straight into places such as Herman ze German’s. London’s cosmopolitan denizens, its native population and tourists alike seem to succumb to the multiple stimuli exuded by the authentic German sausage … if the verifiable afflux accounts for anything. The Bratwurst (pork & veal), Bockwurst (smoked pork) or the Chilli Beef Wurst (pork & beef) on the menu all are eligible for ennoblement, thus crowned the sausage of sausages: the legendary Currywurst.