The last part of the excursion was a visit to Hütscheroda - that's a small place in Thuringia which calls itself "the wild cat village".

Wild cats live in the forest next to the village - but these critters are so shy, and so well-disguised, and so quiet that to see one in the wild is an extremely rare thing. So in addition to a small path through the forest, and a longer route if you want to see more of the beautiful landscape, there are a few enclosures with male wild cats (who come from breeding programmes, they are not taken out of the wild). Chances to see one of the cats there are higher - and you are guaranteed to see them three times daily, when it's feeding time.

You also get some info about the cats during this feeding time... and if you are lucky, a photo or two with more or less of the fence visible.

[caption id="attachment_4746" align="alignnone" width="640"] One of my lucky shots - that is Carlo.


If you are interested in wild cats, this place is definitely worth a visit! In addition, they are now having a lynx pair, in hopes of breeding some more lynxes. We didn't get to see these, as they are freshly arrived, but they will soon go into their enclosure.

[caption id="attachment_4745" align="alignnone" width="640"] Wild cats make funny faces, too.

A while ago, we got surprised by an offer to participate in an excursion organised by the BUND (which is a nature protection organisation) - to go see some very special, protected forests such as the Hohe Schrecke (page all German) and the Hainichenforst, and some wild cats in Hütscheroda (English/German page, and pics).

We decided to go - and we had an amazingly wonderful weekend, with lots of really uplifting information. There was a bunch of success stories about smaller and larger things that are good for the region around the protected areas, and of course the protected areas themselves. There was also a bonus fruit juice tasting from a local fruit juicery, bonus info on how to prune cherry trees (which was very timely, and very helpful, for the sour cherry bush tree in our garden), and lots of wonderful forests and meadows and birds and bugs.

Here's some forest for you:





There were also beautiful meadows in the open land between fields and the forested areas, and I was utterly delighted to see several of these butterflies - it has been years since I last saw any of them:



Their German name is, literally, "chess board butterfly".

I also loved this small but bright little flower:

[caption id="attachment_4744" align="alignnone" width="640"] Kardinalsnelke


And here's one of the many insects that live in the forest:



I have no clue what this is, but I think it's pretty.

One of the things that come with me whenever I am travelling, apart from the World's Best Thermos Mug, is a set of cutlery. We actually bought that for our camping travels, when obviously you need cutlery, and I tried to get the most lightweight version possible. While my husband went for a three-piece set made from titanium (because that's really nicely lightweight), I found a wooden set with four pieces (it includes a small spoon, and for some things, I just love using a small spoon). It was even lighter than the titanium one... but unfortunately, neither a wooden knife nor a wooden fork are really useful for many food items.

So after being annoyed with them for a while, tearing open breadrolls (or borrowing a real knife) and breaking apart instead of forking up things with the fork, I caved and bought a second set, this time in titanium as well, to replace the knife and fork. I kept the spoons, though. They are wonderful. When I'm travelling, the cutlery comes with me - in my travel bag or in my handbag, depending on whether the latter comes along or not. When I'm not travelling, though, it is stored with the rest of our camping gear. Consequently, sometimes it happens that I am somewhere and my handbag does not contain the cutlery... and I would need it.

I've now stumbled across a cutlery set from metal that is full-size, but will pack down as the individual pieces are screw-together, which sounds just like the thing to put into my handbag to live there, forever. It's called "Outlery", and it is currently running on Kickstarter for another two days. If that sounds interesting to you, too, here's the link!

It's fully feeling like summer here, I'm working on the lace chapes and on fiddling some more (and better) with metal stuff and doing some fun tablet weaving on the side and sending off orders... and there's the summer break coming up sort of soon, and before that, I need to get all the things done and prepared for Dublin.

Dublin! WorldCon! It's all very, very exciting - if everything goes according to plan, I might get to be in a bit of the programme, and I will (that is definite) have a table in the Dealer's Hall, and I'll be able to spend time with some wonderful friends, and get to stay in a room at Trinity College (which is exciting all by itself). There will be tea, and Irish food (and I'm so looking forward to that already, too) and I will have two huge suitcases to lug with me.

So, to be all honest, it's not only extremely exciting, it's also a little bit scary at some points. For instance, it meant registering for VAT in Ireland. It means lugging two huge suitcases into a train and into an airport and through Dublin (not too far there, though, fortunately). It also means I have to decide what to bring to my sales table... as not everything I have will fit into the suitcases, and there's a weight limit too, and you'd be surprised at how much some things weigh, and how bulky some other things are...

Anyway. Hasn't someone somewhere at some point said you should do at least one scary thing per day, because it's good for you? That's what I sort of tell myself now. That it's good for me.

And you know what? I actually do believe it. Plus I'm so looking forward to this weird wild sell-things-at-WorldCon-Shenanigan!

One of the fun-not-fun things I get to do every year, at the start of the year, is do my car cost calculations for the tax stuff. The car we have (which stands in the garage most of the time) is owned not by us, or myself, but by my company, so its costs are part of my business costs.

I am, of course, allowed to use it for private things as well - but as it's the company's car, this counts, for all bureaucratic purposes, as something called "Leistungsentnahme - Nutzung von Gegenständen für Zwecke außerhalb des Unternehmens" (use of goods for purposes outside of business), and that, in turn, counts as part of the generated income... and that, in its own turn, is what I owe 19% VAT for.

If you are confused now, let me un-confuse you: I have a car (that I paid for), but if I use it for private purposes, I have to calculate the actual costs per kilometre, figure out how many km I have been driving for private stuff (which means keeping and then going through the vehicle log), calculate the value of that, and then pay the 19% of VAT of this value to the state. So I basically have to pay to use my own car... which is in some sense feeling so absurd that it makes me laugh a little inside every time.

The side effect of having a company car and having to do all this mathsy stuff on its costs? Getting a very, very clear picture of how much a klick of driving a car really costs. Now, mind you, our car gets relatively little use - I end up at significantly under 10,000 km per year, unless some really unusual, weirdly long journeys happen - and of course, figures can change. But if you've ever heard of the 0.3 € costs per km that are often used as a basis for calculating driving costs, and thought to yourself "well, that is way more than I pay", you were probably falling into the same trap that I did before changing to company car. Most people only look at the obvious running costs, which is the fuel (and maybe the oil), but really, that's just the tip of the iceberg. Yes, if you only reckon fuel costs, driving 500 km seems to cost very little in comparison to going with public transport, such as metro or train.

What gets forgotten, though, are all the other costs... and there are plenty of these. You have to buy the car. Insurance for the car is obligatory in Germany, plus there's car taxes. Maintenance costs - regular checks to keep things running - as well as repairs. Costs for the garage. New tires, necessary once in a while. Possibly membership in some club for accident and breakdown cover. Costs for TÜV (regular vehicle inspection).

Which means that many years, our car has not cost .3 € per kilometre driven, but something in the range of .34-.35 €. This means ten km cost three € fifty - that's a coffee in a café. Driving a hundred costs 35 €.

Of course, some of the costs per km will go down if you drive more. We have a diesel car, which becomes cheaper (because of high taxes, but low fuel costs, comparatively) if you drive more. (There are studies that come to the conclusion that electric cars are already the more cost-effective solution, though they do not state how many km per year they used as the basis for the calculations.) But then you will also have service intervals coming up faster, and there will be more wear and tear. So let's say I drive more and can calculate with .3 € - even with this number as the actual costs, public transport will often be cheaper. If I manage to get a super saver price, it's sometimes just a fraction of what the car would cost, less than half the price if I'm lucky.

Added bonus? If I'm sitting in the train, I can do whatever I want to. If I am sitting in the car, I have to drive. Maybe I can listen to some podcast on the side, but knitting or reading or writing are right out - which are all things I like to do during train rides. So if I can, I'll use the train for travel.

Obviously, there are things where this is not possible, such as fairs, when I fill the car with stuff - but I've successfully lugged stuff for a workshop or a work meeting in the huge suitcase I have just for these purposes all through Germany and, indeed, across borders. That suitcase fits about 16 clamps plus a lot of extra stuff. It's not fun to lug it up or down stairs when fully loaded, and not fun to run with it when the train is delayed and I have to hurry to catch the next one - but I still love being able to go to a work spot per train. I just try to see these things as free fitness training.

So - are you a train/public transport or car person? Have you ever figured out the true cost of your car kilometres?

I'm back from my breather, and it was a wonderful time - there was holiday knitting, and there was bouldering, and some quality shopping for things I cannot get here, and there were walks in sunny weather and a bit of mudlarking and there was cake.

Lots of cake.

[caption id="attachment_4080" align="alignnone" width="446"] That, by the way, is the Afternoon Tea for two people in the Salvation Army Café near St Paul's. Which was delicious.


Somehow, British cake is considerably different from German cake, and somehow I have not yet managed to copy it. I probably have not tried hard enough (read: properly, using a recipe from Britain and actually sticking to what it says) - but when we are across the Channel, I end up eating lots of cake and really enjoying it, and scones with clotted cream as well.

So there was cake, and scones, and more cake. Too much for my own good, probaby... but I regret nothing.

There was also a streak of luck in timing, and we got to see the first female Doctor Who right when it was aired in Britain, which was totally awesome (and of course accompanied by a nice cup of tea). It's probably a good thing we only discovered quite late that we could watch older episodes of Dr Who in our apartment, or there might have been some binge-watching to the detriment of sleeptime (which was very, very much needed).

What there was not, though, were those lovely German Heinzelmännchen who take care of all the work back home while one is away, so on the list of "urgent things to do", getting emails and shop orders on their way was right up there on top with "go grocery shopping or starve".

Now there's some Textile Forum stuff to be taken care of, and Google has let me know that there seem to be some issues with the mobile version of my webpage. So if you've been trying to read stuff on the blog with your mobile implement and have gotten a load of 404 errors - I'm sorry about that, I am now aware of it, and I am trying to fix it. (If you should run into any errors, or have any other issues with these pages, please don't hesitate to tell me. It's amazing how many things can remain undetected even if you try from time to time to make sure everything is working alright - so I always appreciate getting a hint if something is not!)

I didn't realise the tandem would be such an interesting thing, and get several comments right away! It is such a normal piece of life for us, and has been for years, that I don't think twice about it anymore. And yes, hauling stuff is very easily done with this contraption (but transporting wool was not the main reason we got it).

Back in about 2004/2005, the Most Patient Husband and I realised we would both like to go on bike holidays together, but our performance on bikes was, how shall I put it: slightly dissimilar. Slightly as in that famous race between the hare and the hedgehog, only without the hedgehog trick. (I was the hedgehog, by the way. Still am.) So the obvious solution was trying out a tandem, and we started right away to look for one with good luggage capacity to get holiday equipment onto the bike without having to add a trailer (which is the usual solution for tandem vacations).

We stumbled across a slightly unusual bike that way - the Hase Pino. Which was a semi-recumbent, and we'd never had contact with 'bents before, so it was all very weird and new. On this, you have the usual luggage rack that will fit three bags (two panniers and a topcase), plus an optional lowrider underneath that will fit another two large and two small panniers. Which sets you back a bit compared to two single bikes, but not so much.

So we went to our local bike dealer for special bikes, ZoxBikes - and he did have one of the tandems... so off we were for a test ride. The first metres were very weird, and the first corners doubly so, as the stoker (the one not handling the steering stuff) sits on top of the front wheel. Which means the captain (the one who does handle the steering stuff) has to guess where the wheel is, and the stoker has the feeling of going straight into a wall or the abyss that you can get when you sit in a bus right in front.

A little test round an a slightly larger test round later, we went home... and we got our tandem in October 2005.



It's a relatively pricey bike (you pay extra for exotics), it does have quite a few flaws (there are some technical details that are, well... questionable), but we haven't regretted our decision for a single second. We've gone on tours long and short, we've hauled all kinds of stuff with it, we've spent wonderful vacations in Spain and (most often) in England with this thing. We also use it as our main daily means of transport when we go somewhere together, year round - on spike tires in winter for safe riding.

So. That's the tandem story - or at least the first part of it. If you have questions, ask away in the comments, and I'll write more!