On this Wednesday afternoon, I'm really looking forward to travelling to our "old lady" in Sønderborg. Tomorrow is a public holiday, then a bridge day, a long, sunny weekend lies ahead of us and it looks like we'll have a nice wind from the north-west, just right for sailing to Ærøskøbing or Marstal. My husband is also in good spirits, as he has persuaded me to cancel two invitations for this weekend. Both were invitations to garden parties "where you stand on your feet" and "where people barbecue like there's nothing more important in the world. But there is: sailing".
Hanno meets us in the car park. "There you are. Where are you? I'm off to buy charcoal and kindling." "We're having a barbecue?" my husband asks. "Did we have a date?" "No, but what else are you supposed to do in this weather apart from barbecuing?" "We wanted to go out, the extended wo..." "Then Birte made all the lovely salads for nothing, thank you very much." Hanno is venomous.
More from Steffi von Wolff:
Even I'm slightly annoyed, and I really don't have anything against barbecues, but this weekend in particular doesn't suit me at all. The beautiful weather! On the other hand, it's great that we're such a nice community. And at the end of the day, it doesn't matter whether we set off and anchor tonight or tomorrow.
On the other hand, socialising sometimes becomes too much. "Are you coming into town to do the shopping?" Hanno asks my husband, and they set off while I carry our things to the "old lady". Less than two minutes later, there's a knock. Birte and Linda are waving two bottles. "Prosetscho! Come on, let's sit in the sun. You also have to say hello to Josie." Birte is already cheeky. Josie is a beautiful Bernese mountain dog who loves to chew paper and shoes. She also likes to chew oilskins and doormats. And she likes to chew human hands, as I soon realise.
"Isn't this marvellous weather?" Linda asks happily, holding her face up to the sun. "Perfect for sailing, actually. But what can you do?"
"It's really nice and we'll just leave tomorrow." I am now reconciled and empty my glass, which is immediately refilled by Birte. "Leaving tomorrow?" asks Linda. "What now?" "Er ... long weekend?" "That's not possible," the plan is categorically cancelled. "It's Jörn's birthday. I've ordered cake from the bakery here and we're taking you out to Italian in the evening. Have you forgotten?"
Right, there was something. But I hadn't even told my husband because he would have caught his breath. The restaurant doesn't have outdoor seating, as I know, only indoor seating. So it's a great idea to sit in a stuffy booth in this weather.
In the evening, we all have a barbecue and Jörn talks the whole time about how sailing is overrated and that diesel is expensive and his motorboat consumes a lot of fuel. At least my steak and the nice salads taste good. Still, I'd like to get going.
Then we'll just set off tomorrow
The next morning we are sitting in the cockpit having breakfast, and almost the entire harbour sets sail to make the most of the beautiful weather, which is often not so perfect. "We'll leave tomorrow then," I say to myself. After all, tomorrow is only Friday. So it's still reasonable.
"Impossible," my husband barks. "In season, to an Italian restaurant with indoor seating. He's got a gut. I might as well sit in the sauna. Besides, I can't stand this kind of landlord. Firstly, he serves you red wine and grissini without you having ordered them and then charges you for it, and he's also annoying with his constant 'My friends from Germany, so nice that you're back'." "He's nice," I say. "As far as I'm concerned. Josie is too. But you know what. We're changing jetties. I'm not doing this anymore. It's all getting too much for me. Inside seating. I'll go to the harbour master tomorrow and make it clear that we can moor somewhere else. I'm not going to be arrested like this. That's inhumane. Good God, I'm going to the pump!" He crosses his arms and scowls at what's going on in the harbour.
Opposite, Ingmar and Heidi crumble around on their lines and wave to us. "It's your own fault if you don't sail," they call out to us. We spend the whole morning watching the others getting their boats ready.
Hanno arrives. "We still have time before coffee, can you give me a hand, there's something wrong with my faeces tank." My husband pretends not to have heard anything at first, but Hanno knows him and doesn't let up. "Hello! Haaaaalloooo! Can't you hear me?"
Finally he gets up and goes with Hanno onto his boat.
Ten minutes later, Hanno is standing there again, without him. "Oh my goodness. He's stuck. In the tank. He's got his head stuck in the faeces tank." I run with Hanno to his boat, where Birte, Jörn and others are already. Everyone is shouting in confusion. My husband screams the loudest from the tank. The guttural sounds are terrible. Eventually he is free. "My reading glasses are gone. What a load of shit!" he curses.
Yes, I know, this is not how you would have imagined a long weekend. Hanno gets upset because his reading glasses might now clog up the petrol tank, and then it would be my husband's fault and he would have to pay for the repair. "That's the last time!" my husband shouts. "I've had enough." His face is flushed.
"Please don't be so echauffier," says Birte. "We want to celebrate our birthday." My husband stomps off. "I'm going to have a shower. Maybe it's possible to do it alone." I can understand him.
After we've eaten our cake in bright sunshine and in front of empty moorings, it's off to the Italian restaurant. As I expected, the air is freezing, it's about 30 degrees in here and my husband is on 180.
"We could have jumped into the sea today at the anchorage, oh, how nice we could have had it. I'll go to the harbour master tomorrow. Not like this."
My husband sits there, raises his glass and has tears in his eyes
The landlord approaches. "My friends from Germany, so ssssssöööööööööön!" "Grumpf," my husband says, putting on his Steinbeisser look. "Here is sssssssooo good red wine." "Hrk," says my husband, whose mood is sinking by the second. God, it's hot.
Everyone sits down, drinks are served and then Jörn stands up again and taps his glass with a knife. "My dear friends and dock neighbours," he says, "how happy I always am when I walk towards the dock and spot the first of you waving to me and obviously happy to see me. It's a blessing and a gift that we have such a wonderfully functioning jetty community, that we still accept each other's privacy, that we can help each other and celebrate together, like today."
He pauses for a moment and swallows. "I'm lucky to have such valuable people by my side in my free time. People you can count on, who have love in them, a willingness to help, and who go through life cheerfully." I look at my husband. "Almost everyone, anyway. Because we do, and we can be so grateful that we all have each other. Let me tell you that I can't imagine life without you and our bridge, and I raise my glass to that and to all of you. You my friends, you shining lights!" All that's missing now is a blonde, curly-haired angel plucking thoughtfully at a harp.
My husband sits there, raises his glass and has tears in his eyes. "Such a beautiful thing," he says to me quietly. "You've never said that about me before." He is really moved. How touching. "Let's drink to us, to our togetherness and our life together here on the jetty! To us, to us!"
"Here's to us!" echoes the crowd. My husband has to blow his nose. "How beautiful."
"And because we're all here together right now," says Jörn, "I want to announce that we'll be painting the clubhouse next weekend and the weekend after that. All hands. That strengthens the team spirit. And I know I can count on you." Nobody answers.
And I can understand that. My husband gets up. I hope the harbour master is still there.
