Innsbruk again

I'm settled into the Hotel Sailor, near Bozner Platz in Innsbruck and wondering what the next few days hold for me. The trial of the woman who skied into me in on Thursday or Friday. What's more on my mind is becoming a Grandfather. Yes I suppose I can say it now. We've known for long enough for most people to know anyway, and going public isn't going to shock or surprise anyone. Everyone who needs to know, now knows.

The news is a delight, of course. Emily found out a couple of weeks ago and we have all been coming to terms with it. Naturally I'm happy for her, if she's happy and it is churlish to be anything other. But scratch the surface and it's a shock, and a whole load of fatherly concerns bubble up to the surface. Some of them selfish, and some make me weepy. My little girl. My curly locks is moving into the next phase of her life, and further away from me, as she must do and should do. It's still making me weepy though.

As if it isn't a big enough shock, she is also to be married. Again, I'm delighted for her, and for Shaun, the luck boy. No one will ever be good enough for any of my girls, but that's my problem. She, they can have all they need and I will, I will be delighted for them. Shaun is American, and they may well live in America, and if that's what they end up doing then, that's Ok and I will do what I can to facilitate that.

But I shall miss her, I really will. There, I'm proper crying now. I going to stop writing for a bit.

***

Innsbruck is the capital city of the Tyrol and literally means 'bridge' over the river 'Inns'. I'm having dinner in the restaurant of the hotel. It's too cold, and I'm too tired to venture out. I went to check where the solicitors rooms were and they are no more than a hundred meters from the hotel. I'm meeting Dr Christoph Whathisname tomorrow at 2pm. It was about now in 2008 that I spent eleven days in the university hospital here sipping soup and mash potato. Foolishly I did take notice of where I was going and nearly got lost wandering around. The sun is bright, but weak. The streets are clear and the shops modern. They clearly like their Germanic arches to drive through. The public transport also looks good, with buses and trams galore. The sales are on, but the streets are not busy. I stop for a coffee in a shop called 'Baguette'. Not a perfect baguette, but a very passable one.

The hotel is smart, a bit dated, but clean and has the Internet. The restaurant bit is on the ground floor, but made to look like it's in a cellar, for atmosphere. I sit down and am served by a Pakistani gentleman, rather incongruously, who speaks accentented but good English.

The table opposite is in an alcove and around it are three older Austrian gentleman, later joined by another man and a woman. It's clearly a weekly meeting on a Monday evening and they obviously know each other well, but I can't help getting the sense of a meeting of an underground Nazi group. I know they aren't but I could see them in a war movie, in black and white, being sociable before they go on with discussing mysteriously how to deliver Herr Hitlers dastardly orders.

I also can't help remembering that Austrians sound to Germans, from their accent. like country yokels. So I sit there imagining them plotting dark deeds in an 'ooh arh' west country accent. I can't help having a little chuckle to myself.

I've eaten too much again and am feeling very tired. Just time for a couple of beers. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?