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Vagina Walls!
May. 14th, 2023 10:57 pmMost of the week has been spent getting prepared for travelling back to the UK. Wolfie had already gone, having been required to work in London and Derby most of last week, meaning I was tasked with locking up the house in Germany on my own. By midweek, particularly Tuesday, this was causing a lot of psychological issues, generating migranes and tinnitus. I knew that Procyon was going to help me, but I still felt very nervous with such a responsibility while my OCD was going into overdrive. Fortunately, when the time came, Procyon kindly took an hour and a half detour to reassure me and we managed to get locked up within twenty minutes. It did help that work on Friday afternoon was particularly quiet.
Procyon had been in the city all week on business and we managed to meet up on Wednesday, which was the second Fureigners meal out. It was all a little chaotic as a poll had been run on which date we should choose, with it being split 50/50 between Wednesday and this coming Monday. Kamsirius, the principle organiser, opted for the Monday but a few of us couldn't go, meaning a second more impromptu gathering was arranged. This was going to number ten furs but the pizza place, Malafemmena on Danziger Str., was busy until 9pm. This was too late for some people so they dropped out. We were expecting four but in the end seven turned up, including Planke, who had opted to organise this gathering. The pizza was exquisite, with the restaurant specialising in margherita varities, with different cheeses being the differentiator. I went for creamy buffalo mozzarella and it was exceptional, with the wood fire charring adding to the flavour. The evening gave me opportunity to meet a few of the locals to whom I rarely get chance to speak, and they gave me some excellent curry recommendations that I think Wolfie would particularly like, while afterwards we headed to Monterery for some post-meal drinks. We were there until midnight before having to get our last trams home. It was a great night and I do hope these meal evenings continue - we have a spreadsheet with over one hundred places we want to try, so there is certainly plenty to go at. Meanwhile, Monday's second meeting at the pizza place may not go ahead due to 48-hour rail strikes affecting Germany.
I flew back to Berlin on Friday, meeting up with Procyon at my house before heading to the airport together. There was talk about train strikes, with Google suggesting weird and wonderful routes, but we realised there was a train to Hauptbahnhof so we decided to go there and see how the land lay. As it turned out, the FEX airport train was running, from the directly adjacent platform to the one where our train arrived, so we were at the airport about three hours early. Both security and customs were a breeze - despite the latter being hampered by a Serbian getting into severe difficulties - so we spent a good amount of time at the hyper-expensive bar near the gate. Procyon got three overpriced sausages and some cabbage, I was refused fries as they were a side, and we had two beers before realising this would desperately instill the need to urinate. Procyon's colleagues were also loitering around the airport but they didn't join us, preferring instead to meet us over in Manchester, from where we were to share a taxi to give Liverpool together.
The flight was uneventful, customs in Manchester straightforward and baggage claim a breeze. It all meant we got into arrivals far earlier than expected and the taxi driver wasn't there. Sensing an opportunity, I dived into Spar to get bread and cheeese, before one of Procyon's students told me that Greggs was open as he was brandishing a chicken bake. I slunk over, grabbed myself a sausage, bean and cheese melt, was criticised for it and scoffed it anyway. By then, the taxi man was waiting for us and after struggling to get out of the car park for a while, we were on our way to Scouseland.
We were headed to Liverpool to take in Eurovision. We had tried to get tickets back in March, but were unlucky, largely because by the time we had gotten to the front of the queue, only the £480 hospitality tickets remained. In hindsight, we probably should have gone for these considering we had no accommodation costs thanks to Procyon and the flight was part of our usual UK trip to ConFuzzled anyway but then hindsight is a wonderful thing. We did learn a lot about the ticketing process though, not least that you can join a waiting room much earlier than when the box office opened, so we have some key tips for trying to get tickets for Sweden next year (which we shall, having already made loose arrangements with fellow Eurovision fans and Scandinavian contacts). As we drove into the city, we saw the plethora of Eurovision banners lining the route, which only became more numerous the closer we got to the city centre and dockside. After dropping off Procyon's students - after a rather nice chat about the local drinking scene and nothing of any embarrassment whatsoever (I even remembered to use Procyon's real name despite not really knowing it before that evening) - we were deposited outside Procyon's flat. The tone of the evening had already been set when, when driving over the bridge adjacent to the Adelphia Hotel, we saw one guy holding the stomach of his girffriend who was vomiting in full flow.
Despite it being 1am, we wanted to go for a drink, so we walked up to the nearby Bold Street, where most of the action seemed to be. Near the Baltic Triangle, we saw lasers shooting into the sky from some of the raves going on, but this is neither of ours scene. Alas, most of the good craft beer bars seemed to have already closed, with the nightclub scene firmly in its ascendence. We tried going into a German-themed bar but they said they were closing, while the XXL Strip Club with forty exotic ladies was the most brazen stripjoint I have ever seen but of course did not appeal (despite the best interests of the guy on the door). I was loving the atmosphere though, the usual mix of joyful people and those swimming in regret. The pavement was a makeshift floor for some, there was mister drunk shouty man warbling something incoherent and four women who looked like pork scratchings with false eyelashes such was the level of their tans. In one of the squares there was a sheesha bar playing really loud music, guarded by a load of cops, but I have no idea what this was about. The green lighting wasn't giving anything away either. In the end, it was all too frenetic and too many people were unpredictably drunk that we decided to call it a night and share a rhubarb and custard beer instead. Even Procyon's local. The Baltic Fleet, was closed for the night. It was rammed the next day ahead of Eurovision.
Saturday was fortunately gloriously sunny and we awoke around noon for some tea and shitting toast. Once sorted, we decided to explore the city, soaking up the glorious Eurovision atmosphere. Alas, without tickets for the main event or the sold out ticketed event by the Lyver Building (which Tungro was at), there wasn't a lot to do, so we just walked around and loved the joyfulness of it all. The areas around the dock and arena were the most frenetic, with smiles aplenty. After being a Eurovision fan for over 25 years, I just loved being in the middle of it all. Over the excitement, often the dulcet tones of an exasperated Scouse lady could be heard urging her kind to "pack it in or I'll snack yer", while some of the cultural links between Ukraine and the UK were very well done. The highlight was undoubtedly the Soloveiko Songbirds, twelve inflatable nightingales made in and reperesenting each of the regions of Ukraine. They all look similar but have slightly different patterns, while each one has a button next to it which you can press to play a different birdsong. I found this very moving, almost teary as I walked around remembering the places I had visited and the people I still know there. We saw about four on Saturday and ticked the rest off on Sunday, going to Lime Street station yesterday where we picked up some Network Rail branded jellies with an anthropomorphic griffon on the packet which was clearly drawn by a furry. The UKraine sign (UK in pink, the rest of the word in blue was a wonderful homage to the joint broadcast that almost had me bawling too). There were a number of other initiatives too including one on 'Home' which saw Liverpudlian poets write poems to Ukrainian pictures, as well as the Rock Choir who seemed to be bloody everywhere and were singing a medley of popular hits, most of them by The Beatles. Liverpool really do milk The Beatles.
I was taking many photographs and relaying them to my friend Leo, who earlier that day had gone on a bike ride to Irpin, Bucha and Hostomel, near his home in Kyiv. He sent me pictures from there, taken that day, right in the middle of Eurovision. These were the places where the Russians had committed some of the worst atrocities and seeing these images, taken by a friend that very morning, was incredibly sobering. He sent them in the middle of the contest itself and it certainly put things in perspective.
Without tickets for the main event, Procyon decided to host a Eurovision party at his home. Both Skavi and Dorje were there and Wolfie tried to make it too, having returned to the house in Pudsey on Thursday, but the rail strikes proved to be prohibitive. He ended up watching it on his own, which did me a sad. Skavi and Dorje were due to arrive about 5pm (much later than desired due to them having a ninety-minute bus journey due to the strikes), so we spent some time having a couple of beers - one in our favourite craft beer bar on Dale Street - te Dead Crafty Beer Company - and one in the Ship & Mitre, where we saw Brew York were doing Collabovision. These looked incredible beers but at high percentages, we didn't want to go wild, so we opted for a half of an 8% unctuous porter. This place was a real ale pub essentially and quite spartan but the atmosphere was good and they were serving something called Scouse, which I later discovered through Dorje was a type of beef or lamb stew.
Procyon had kindly bought me a Eurovision shirt from the official Eurovision pop-up store and I was going to get one for Wolfie, but the queue on Saturday was mental and on Sunday they were tearing it down. I was wearing it all weekend but soon realised I was a little underdressed, with the butch guy in the frilly rainbow tutu and unicorn gear winning my heart. There were loads of outside broadcasts going on, particularly outside the arena, while I inadvertently gatecrashed one of the Slavic countries' reports when I noticed two boats displaying my favourite flags (the gay pride one and the EU one) and an inflatable unicorn. There will have been a news report in a country that had me screaming 'unicorn' on it as I didn't realise they were broadcasting right next to me. Speaking of EU flags, there were everywhere too, there being a campaign to hand out 75,000 flags for free. We saw them towards the arena handing these out and while I was proud to see the EU flag in such abundance, I am not sure whether it was quite the right event for it. Still, I admire the hutzpah and agree with the cause. We also saw the Finnish sauna lorry - a concept that was quite bizarre as I don't see Brits going there naked and yet no-one would be carrying swimming shorts around - and a preacher in the city centre just before my second Greggs of the trip who was screaming the phrase "Vagina Walls" to passers-by for no discernable reason. It was around this time that Procyon picked up a Ukraine flag for his window from a slightly dodgy arcade shop.
As we were waiting for the others to arrive, we went to Tesco to pick up beers, snacks and ingredients for enchiladas. Later in the day, our friends did the same and saw Sam Ryder at the check-outs. We had no such luck. We then headed back to the house and awaited our friends, who were delayed as they wanted to check out the action themselves and take photos. This meant our opportunity to fursuit was taken away from us as we needed handlers, although we were 50/50 on the wisdom of this. While fun, some of the police had loaded guns and we didn't want to give them even more to do, even if all we were going to do was suit by the main road and nowhere near the arena. I still regret not doing it, but it was probably the right decision. This meant, though, we had to be subjected to the BBC's Eurovision build-up where they went to an old people's home in Poole where one member of 1976 winners Brotherhood of Man was now singing for pensioners to ask for their opinion. They, like the rest of Europe, didn't much like Mae Millar's UK entry this year but hearing from indignent pensioners is always a chore and the whole thing was cringy filler.
So Eurovision itself. The contest was of an incredibly high standard this year, with only a couple of songs being weak. Sadly, two of those were the hosts, with the UK's vocals in particular not being strong. The song was catchy enough and certainly shouldn't have finished second bottom, but then Germany's entry shouldn't have finished bottom either. As is often the way, I disagreed with the winning entry of Sweden, which seemed to be more about the choreography than the song, which was pretty unremarkable. The vocals were incredibly powerful though but I, like most of the viewing public, favoured the Finnish entry by a considerable margin. Indeed, the Swedish entry had already succeeded once the jury votes had been tallied as it had a pretty unassailable lead before the public votes were even thrown into the mix. This, along with the UK's poor entry, meant the tension and excitement of last year was practically non-existant and we ended up feeling rather deflated than the exceptional highs that we experienced last year. Special mentions do go to the Austrian entry about Edgar Allen Poe and the Croatians in their underpants singing SC over and over again. The metal entries outside of Finland - namely Australia and Germany - did not do as well as I would have hoped. The French had a typical ballad but the dress the singer was wearing made her look like a placenta, which really amused Skavi, while the Boy George inspired entry of Belgium seemed a little dated despite it being popular. Serbia's synths also stood out, looking back on it 24 hours later, but one thing that was noticeable that aside from the opening medley, the show itself had very little nod to Ukraine, despite the UK hosting it on their behalf. Even the postcards were split between major Ukrainian and British landmarks and sights. As Graham Norton was hosting, Mel Gedroyc ended up doing some of the commentary, but she wasn’t as sardonic and often talked over the presenters. The shot of her churning butter unironically though was marvelous and I was a little saddened to hear Norton’s dismissive attitude to the more metal genres being performed. Still, Sweden is not a difficult country to get to and while Finland would have been ideal, we think we may be able to get to the contest next year too. We're certainly going to try.
Speaking of music and Liverpool, on Friday the DJs were annouced for a new furry dance event in Liverpool's Baltic Triangle. Typically and predictably, it's all the same type of genres you usually get, which I find disappointing. It is quite sad that there seems to be no room for a wide range of music styles beyond the narrow spectrum of trance, house, garage and EDM both in the furry and LGBTQ+ community at large. I do think a rock and metal set will work, as ConFuzzled regularly prove, and it would be great to have more variety on offer. Sadly, I don't think that will happen but it may explain why Norton's comments on Germany's entry got to me. I sometimes feel I just don't fit into all this, despite my love of Eurovision and its dynamic campness.
The city was transformed on Sunday, although the songbirds and the banners were still out. Today was the culmination of the two-week cultural event and I kind of wished we could have come earlier in the week when the main Eurovision Fanzone wasn't ticketed and there were still live performances going on. Still, it wasn't to be, and we did see a lot including the Moldovan entrants being driven to the arena from the window of Procyon's place. All we did today was walk around the city ticking off some birds, but first we went for brunch at vegan restaurant The Vibe. Everyone had The Big One - a full vegan English - apart from me. who went for the delightful Breakie Bagel with a fake egg in it (however that works). The service was incredibly slow, meaning I had finished my cinnamon-infused chai latte long before my meal arrived, but it was good to chat about politics and the like with Dorje. He needed to get back home though to pick up a package so the delay in service did not help him, while it did leave Procyon and I with two more hours to track down the remaining birds. This we did before trying to go to an underground bar in The Baltic Triangle area. Alas, this has weird opening hours and was closed, but we did end up in the aircraft hanger that is the Black Lodge Taproom where we had a swift scooner and I got a three-beer gift pack for my father. The sign promoting Timber & Building Supplies and Beer was particularly amusing. Black Lodge are one of my favourite Liverpool breweries and we had seen them around various craft beer festivals before moving to Germany, so it was great to be acquainted with their taproom. Then the heavens opened and we had to trudge back to the station via Procyon's to get my bags in the rain, all the while with the pavements being turned to glass due to the lack of grip on the souls of my shoes. Oh, and before this, we did discover the Gustav Adolfs Kyrka, a red-brick Victorian Scandinavian Church which was interesting due to the naval links of Liverpool at that time. It was built in 1883 as a haven for Nordic saliors and immigrants, with most of the present day's congregation still having links to that part of the world. It's an interesting example of how trade and industry affect demographics.
That's about it really, it was a great weekend staying with Procyon and I am glad he could host us. His enchiladas, although spicy, were delicious and I ended up drinking more beer but eating fewer snacks than last year. I got back to Pudsey at 8pm via Manchester Victoria, where I grabbed a half of Beavertown Neck Oil as I had fifty minutes to kill. I then met up with Wolfie and we went for fish and chips together, as tonight is the only night I'll see him between now and next Saturday. I had forgotten just how good fish and chips are, particularly those cooked in beef dripping. Eurovision was great fun and being amongst it was exhilarating, so it's definitely something I'd like to do again, and maybe get tickets for the event too. We'll see how that goes but I've already started planning.
Procyon had been in the city all week on business and we managed to meet up on Wednesday, which was the second Fureigners meal out. It was all a little chaotic as a poll had been run on which date we should choose, with it being split 50/50 between Wednesday and this coming Monday. Kamsirius, the principle organiser, opted for the Monday but a few of us couldn't go, meaning a second more impromptu gathering was arranged. This was going to number ten furs but the pizza place, Malafemmena on Danziger Str., was busy until 9pm. This was too late for some people so they dropped out. We were expecting four but in the end seven turned up, including Planke, who had opted to organise this gathering. The pizza was exquisite, with the restaurant specialising in margherita varities, with different cheeses being the differentiator. I went for creamy buffalo mozzarella and it was exceptional, with the wood fire charring adding to the flavour. The evening gave me opportunity to meet a few of the locals to whom I rarely get chance to speak, and they gave me some excellent curry recommendations that I think Wolfie would particularly like, while afterwards we headed to Monterery for some post-meal drinks. We were there until midnight before having to get our last trams home. It was a great night and I do hope these meal evenings continue - we have a spreadsheet with over one hundred places we want to try, so there is certainly plenty to go at. Meanwhile, Monday's second meeting at the pizza place may not go ahead due to 48-hour rail strikes affecting Germany.
I flew back to Berlin on Friday, meeting up with Procyon at my house before heading to the airport together. There was talk about train strikes, with Google suggesting weird and wonderful routes, but we realised there was a train to Hauptbahnhof so we decided to go there and see how the land lay. As it turned out, the FEX airport train was running, from the directly adjacent platform to the one where our train arrived, so we were at the airport about three hours early. Both security and customs were a breeze - despite the latter being hampered by a Serbian getting into severe difficulties - so we spent a good amount of time at the hyper-expensive bar near the gate. Procyon got three overpriced sausages and some cabbage, I was refused fries as they were a side, and we had two beers before realising this would desperately instill the need to urinate. Procyon's colleagues were also loitering around the airport but they didn't join us, preferring instead to meet us over in Manchester, from where we were to share a taxi to give Liverpool together.
The flight was uneventful, customs in Manchester straightforward and baggage claim a breeze. It all meant we got into arrivals far earlier than expected and the taxi driver wasn't there. Sensing an opportunity, I dived into Spar to get bread and cheeese, before one of Procyon's students told me that Greggs was open as he was brandishing a chicken bake. I slunk over, grabbed myself a sausage, bean and cheese melt, was criticised for it and scoffed it anyway. By then, the taxi man was waiting for us and after struggling to get out of the car park for a while, we were on our way to Scouseland.
We were headed to Liverpool to take in Eurovision. We had tried to get tickets back in March, but were unlucky, largely because by the time we had gotten to the front of the queue, only the £480 hospitality tickets remained. In hindsight, we probably should have gone for these considering we had no accommodation costs thanks to Procyon and the flight was part of our usual UK trip to ConFuzzled anyway but then hindsight is a wonderful thing. We did learn a lot about the ticketing process though, not least that you can join a waiting room much earlier than when the box office opened, so we have some key tips for trying to get tickets for Sweden next year (which we shall, having already made loose arrangements with fellow Eurovision fans and Scandinavian contacts). As we drove into the city, we saw the plethora of Eurovision banners lining the route, which only became more numerous the closer we got to the city centre and dockside. After dropping off Procyon's students - after a rather nice chat about the local drinking scene and nothing of any embarrassment whatsoever (I even remembered to use Procyon's real name despite not really knowing it before that evening) - we were deposited outside Procyon's flat. The tone of the evening had already been set when, when driving over the bridge adjacent to the Adelphia Hotel, we saw one guy holding the stomach of his girffriend who was vomiting in full flow.
Despite it being 1am, we wanted to go for a drink, so we walked up to the nearby Bold Street, where most of the action seemed to be. Near the Baltic Triangle, we saw lasers shooting into the sky from some of the raves going on, but this is neither of ours scene. Alas, most of the good craft beer bars seemed to have already closed, with the nightclub scene firmly in its ascendence. We tried going into a German-themed bar but they said they were closing, while the XXL Strip Club with forty exotic ladies was the most brazen stripjoint I have ever seen but of course did not appeal (despite the best interests of the guy on the door). I was loving the atmosphere though, the usual mix of joyful people and those swimming in regret. The pavement was a makeshift floor for some, there was mister drunk shouty man warbling something incoherent and four women who looked like pork scratchings with false eyelashes such was the level of their tans. In one of the squares there was a sheesha bar playing really loud music, guarded by a load of cops, but I have no idea what this was about. The green lighting wasn't giving anything away either. In the end, it was all too frenetic and too many people were unpredictably drunk that we decided to call it a night and share a rhubarb and custard beer instead. Even Procyon's local. The Baltic Fleet, was closed for the night. It was rammed the next day ahead of Eurovision.
Saturday was fortunately gloriously sunny and we awoke around noon for some tea and shitting toast. Once sorted, we decided to explore the city, soaking up the glorious Eurovision atmosphere. Alas, without tickets for the main event or the sold out ticketed event by the Lyver Building (which Tungro was at), there wasn't a lot to do, so we just walked around and loved the joyfulness of it all. The areas around the dock and arena were the most frenetic, with smiles aplenty. After being a Eurovision fan for over 25 years, I just loved being in the middle of it all. Over the excitement, often the dulcet tones of an exasperated Scouse lady could be heard urging her kind to "pack it in or I'll snack yer", while some of the cultural links between Ukraine and the UK were very well done. The highlight was undoubtedly the Soloveiko Songbirds, twelve inflatable nightingales made in and reperesenting each of the regions of Ukraine. They all look similar but have slightly different patterns, while each one has a button next to it which you can press to play a different birdsong. I found this very moving, almost teary as I walked around remembering the places I had visited and the people I still know there. We saw about four on Saturday and ticked the rest off on Sunday, going to Lime Street station yesterday where we picked up some Network Rail branded jellies with an anthropomorphic griffon on the packet which was clearly drawn by a furry. The UKraine sign (UK in pink, the rest of the word in blue was a wonderful homage to the joint broadcast that almost had me bawling too). There were a number of other initiatives too including one on 'Home' which saw Liverpudlian poets write poems to Ukrainian pictures, as well as the Rock Choir who seemed to be bloody everywhere and were singing a medley of popular hits, most of them by The Beatles. Liverpool really do milk The Beatles.
I was taking many photographs and relaying them to my friend Leo, who earlier that day had gone on a bike ride to Irpin, Bucha and Hostomel, near his home in Kyiv. He sent me pictures from there, taken that day, right in the middle of Eurovision. These were the places where the Russians had committed some of the worst atrocities and seeing these images, taken by a friend that very morning, was incredibly sobering. He sent them in the middle of the contest itself and it certainly put things in perspective.
Without tickets for the main event, Procyon decided to host a Eurovision party at his home. Both Skavi and Dorje were there and Wolfie tried to make it too, having returned to the house in Pudsey on Thursday, but the rail strikes proved to be prohibitive. He ended up watching it on his own, which did me a sad. Skavi and Dorje were due to arrive about 5pm (much later than desired due to them having a ninety-minute bus journey due to the strikes), so we spent some time having a couple of beers - one in our favourite craft beer bar on Dale Street - te Dead Crafty Beer Company - and one in the Ship & Mitre, where we saw Brew York were doing Collabovision. These looked incredible beers but at high percentages, we didn't want to go wild, so we opted for a half of an 8% unctuous porter. This place was a real ale pub essentially and quite spartan but the atmosphere was good and they were serving something called Scouse, which I later discovered through Dorje was a type of beef or lamb stew.
Procyon had kindly bought me a Eurovision shirt from the official Eurovision pop-up store and I was going to get one for Wolfie, but the queue on Saturday was mental and on Sunday they were tearing it down. I was wearing it all weekend but soon realised I was a little underdressed, with the butch guy in the frilly rainbow tutu and unicorn gear winning my heart. There were loads of outside broadcasts going on, particularly outside the arena, while I inadvertently gatecrashed one of the Slavic countries' reports when I noticed two boats displaying my favourite flags (the gay pride one and the EU one) and an inflatable unicorn. There will have been a news report in a country that had me screaming 'unicorn' on it as I didn't realise they were broadcasting right next to me. Speaking of EU flags, there were everywhere too, there being a campaign to hand out 75,000 flags for free. We saw them towards the arena handing these out and while I was proud to see the EU flag in such abundance, I am not sure whether it was quite the right event for it. Still, I admire the hutzpah and agree with the cause. We also saw the Finnish sauna lorry - a concept that was quite bizarre as I don't see Brits going there naked and yet no-one would be carrying swimming shorts around - and a preacher in the city centre just before my second Greggs of the trip who was screaming the phrase "Vagina Walls" to passers-by for no discernable reason. It was around this time that Procyon picked up a Ukraine flag for his window from a slightly dodgy arcade shop.
As we were waiting for the others to arrive, we went to Tesco to pick up beers, snacks and ingredients for enchiladas. Later in the day, our friends did the same and saw Sam Ryder at the check-outs. We had no such luck. We then headed back to the house and awaited our friends, who were delayed as they wanted to check out the action themselves and take photos. This meant our opportunity to fursuit was taken away from us as we needed handlers, although we were 50/50 on the wisdom of this. While fun, some of the police had loaded guns and we didn't want to give them even more to do, even if all we were going to do was suit by the main road and nowhere near the arena. I still regret not doing it, but it was probably the right decision. This meant, though, we had to be subjected to the BBC's Eurovision build-up where they went to an old people's home in Poole where one member of 1976 winners Brotherhood of Man was now singing for pensioners to ask for their opinion. They, like the rest of Europe, didn't much like Mae Millar's UK entry this year but hearing from indignent pensioners is always a chore and the whole thing was cringy filler.
So Eurovision itself. The contest was of an incredibly high standard this year, with only a couple of songs being weak. Sadly, two of those were the hosts, with the UK's vocals in particular not being strong. The song was catchy enough and certainly shouldn't have finished second bottom, but then Germany's entry shouldn't have finished bottom either. As is often the way, I disagreed with the winning entry of Sweden, which seemed to be more about the choreography than the song, which was pretty unremarkable. The vocals were incredibly powerful though but I, like most of the viewing public, favoured the Finnish entry by a considerable margin. Indeed, the Swedish entry had already succeeded once the jury votes had been tallied as it had a pretty unassailable lead before the public votes were even thrown into the mix. This, along with the UK's poor entry, meant the tension and excitement of last year was practically non-existant and we ended up feeling rather deflated than the exceptional highs that we experienced last year. Special mentions do go to the Austrian entry about Edgar Allen Poe and the Croatians in their underpants singing SC over and over again. The metal entries outside of Finland - namely Australia and Germany - did not do as well as I would have hoped. The French had a typical ballad but the dress the singer was wearing made her look like a placenta, which really amused Skavi, while the Boy George inspired entry of Belgium seemed a little dated despite it being popular. Serbia's synths also stood out, looking back on it 24 hours later, but one thing that was noticeable that aside from the opening medley, the show itself had very little nod to Ukraine, despite the UK hosting it on their behalf. Even the postcards were split between major Ukrainian and British landmarks and sights. As Graham Norton was hosting, Mel Gedroyc ended up doing some of the commentary, but she wasn’t as sardonic and often talked over the presenters. The shot of her churning butter unironically though was marvelous and I was a little saddened to hear Norton’s dismissive attitude to the more metal genres being performed. Still, Sweden is not a difficult country to get to and while Finland would have been ideal, we think we may be able to get to the contest next year too. We're certainly going to try.
Speaking of music and Liverpool, on Friday the DJs were annouced for a new furry dance event in Liverpool's Baltic Triangle. Typically and predictably, it's all the same type of genres you usually get, which I find disappointing. It is quite sad that there seems to be no room for a wide range of music styles beyond the narrow spectrum of trance, house, garage and EDM both in the furry and LGBTQ+ community at large. I do think a rock and metal set will work, as ConFuzzled regularly prove, and it would be great to have more variety on offer. Sadly, I don't think that will happen but it may explain why Norton's comments on Germany's entry got to me. I sometimes feel I just don't fit into all this, despite my love of Eurovision and its dynamic campness.
The city was transformed on Sunday, although the songbirds and the banners were still out. Today was the culmination of the two-week cultural event and I kind of wished we could have come earlier in the week when the main Eurovision Fanzone wasn't ticketed and there were still live performances going on. Still, it wasn't to be, and we did see a lot including the Moldovan entrants being driven to the arena from the window of Procyon's place. All we did today was walk around the city ticking off some birds, but first we went for brunch at vegan restaurant The Vibe. Everyone had The Big One - a full vegan English - apart from me. who went for the delightful Breakie Bagel with a fake egg in it (however that works). The service was incredibly slow, meaning I had finished my cinnamon-infused chai latte long before my meal arrived, but it was good to chat about politics and the like with Dorje. He needed to get back home though to pick up a package so the delay in service did not help him, while it did leave Procyon and I with two more hours to track down the remaining birds. This we did before trying to go to an underground bar in The Baltic Triangle area. Alas, this has weird opening hours and was closed, but we did end up in the aircraft hanger that is the Black Lodge Taproom where we had a swift scooner and I got a three-beer gift pack for my father. The sign promoting Timber & Building Supplies and Beer was particularly amusing. Black Lodge are one of my favourite Liverpool breweries and we had seen them around various craft beer festivals before moving to Germany, so it was great to be acquainted with their taproom. Then the heavens opened and we had to trudge back to the station via Procyon's to get my bags in the rain, all the while with the pavements being turned to glass due to the lack of grip on the souls of my shoes. Oh, and before this, we did discover the Gustav Adolfs Kyrka, a red-brick Victorian Scandinavian Church which was interesting due to the naval links of Liverpool at that time. It was built in 1883 as a haven for Nordic saliors and immigrants, with most of the present day's congregation still having links to that part of the world. It's an interesting example of how trade and industry affect demographics.
That's about it really, it was a great weekend staying with Procyon and I am glad he could host us. His enchiladas, although spicy, were delicious and I ended up drinking more beer but eating fewer snacks than last year. I got back to Pudsey at 8pm via Manchester Victoria, where I grabbed a half of Beavertown Neck Oil as I had fifty minutes to kill. I then met up with Wolfie and we went for fish and chips together, as tonight is the only night I'll see him between now and next Saturday. I had forgotten just how good fish and chips are, particularly those cooked in beef dripping. Eurovision was great fun and being amongst it was exhilarating, so it's definitely something I'd like to do again, and maybe get tickets for the event too. We'll see how that goes but I've already started planning.
