Pippi Langstrumpf-Insel Kunterbunt... (Valentinswerder, Berlin)

Mama Papa Kind









P.S. Fotos von heute 24. Mai 2024, 11:32 bis 11:58 Uhr. Ich war ganz kurz zum Gießen da. Davor zuletzt abends am 19. Mai 2024, da hab ich das Nest am Atelierbalkon entdeckt. Die Eier sind also zwischen dem 20. Mai und gestern oder heute gelegt worden. Es dauert nach dem Legen immer sechzehn Tage bis die Küken schlüpfen. Also kommen die Kleinen zwischen dem 5. und 10. Juni auf die Welt. Als ich beim Gießen ganz nah dran war, hat sich der werdende Papa nicht davon irritieren lassen, er ist ganz ruhig sitzengeblieben. Dann gab es kurz vor Mittag den Wechsel beim Brüten und die werdende Mama hat übernommen. Falls ich Papa und Mama nicht unwissenderweise verwechsle. Die eine Ringeltaube hat oben am Kopf so einen weißen Sprengsel, die ist für mein Gefühl die Mama.

Mag jedoch nicht immer so becircend einsam und verlassen sein.

Immer noch Valentinswerder. Im Herzen der Insel der alte Pavillon.

Ein ruhiger Mittwoch, unaufgeregter Alltag, Routine. Auf erholsame Art aufgeräumt langweilig. Fast wie die Ruhe auf Valentinswerder, wo es an Land kein Fahrzeug mit Motor gibt und kein Wecker tickt.

Als mir dieser Anblick beschert wurde, war ich zufrieden. Ich wollte vor allem architektonisch interessante Ferienhäuser sehen, als ich mich nach Valentinswerder aufmachte. Vieles ist in unzugänglichen Bereichen, aber immerhin kann man dieses Häuschen bewundern, das eine polierte Edelstahl- oder Chrom-Fassade hat. Oder ist es ein verspiegelter Kunststoff? Als sähe man eine Fata Morgana, lässt sich die Silhouette mehr erahnen, als man sie sieht. Von allen Seiten spiegelt sich das Kaleidoskop der umgebenden Pflanzen.

Boot an waldigem Ufer. Keine Buchten, die zum Schwimmen einladen. Ob die sich an Privatstegen verstecken? Könnte so sein.

Der hölzerne Ferien-Bungalow sieht interessant aus. Zu schade, dass ich die Rückseite nicht sehen kann. Bestimmt ist da eine hölzerne Terrasse und ein Garten. Müsste man die Leute kennen.

Zurück zu den gut bewachten Geheimnissen von Valentinswerder.

Mein Giraffen-Pullover war gestern doch übertrieben warm, der wackeligen Vorhersage geschuldet. War gerade griffbereit. Nach der Gieß-Aktion und Balkon-Inspektion habe ich doch ein paar Pinselstriche gemacht, das Ende der Strafarbeit zeichnet sich ab. Aber viel interessanter, wie Chris O'Dell ihre erste Begegnung mit Paul McCartney am 20. Mai 1968 (heute vor 56 Jahren!) im Apple Records Headquarter beschreibt. Sie kannte Derek Taylor, den Pressesprecher der Beatles aus Los Angeles, der für diesen Job bei Apple nach London gegangen war, und Chris O'Dell folgte ihm auf seine Anregung hin, um ebenfalls beim neu gegründeten Plattenlabel der Beatles irgendeinen Job zu bekommen. So hing sie nach ihrer Ankunft jeden Tag unentgeltlich zu den Bürozeiten dort herum, um sich nützlich und damit unentbehrlich zu machen:

"Sometime in midafternoon I was leafing through a magazine, feeling a little sleepy, when Derek suddenly jumped up from his desk.

"It sounds like Paul's here," he said on his way out of the office. "I need to have a word with him. I'll be right back."

I could hear people talking through the wall, and I had to restrain myself from jumping up and peeking out the door to see who it was. Paul? Was Paul McCartney on the other side of that wall? My heart was thumping and my palms were sweating. I could not believe that I was this close to Paul McCartney. I could hear that famous voice and I couldn't grasp the fact that he was right here, in the same building as me. It seemed so unreal.

"Paul, this just came in the post," a female voice called out. I could sense the excitement in the reception area as doors opened and closed and more people joined the conversation.

"What do you think of this jacket for the Apple Boutique?" someone said.

"Well, that's not bad, is it?" That was Paul's voice. "Yes. Lovely. That will do, eh?"

Several minutes passed before Derek came back into his office chatting amiably with someone, and my heart did a little flip-flop thinking it was Paul. I was sitting with my back to the door, facing Derek's desk, and I kept staring straight ahead at the only wall with a window, not wanting to be rude or presumptuous by turning around and interrupting the conversation.

"Chris, meet Neil Aspinall," Derek said. Phew, I thought. I wasn't quite ready to meet one of the Beatles, but I knew from everything Derek had told me that Neil wasn't far removed. He'd been with the band since they were just a local Liverpool group, even before Ringo became the drummer. George Harrison called Neil "the fifth Beatle."

"Any friend of Derek's is a friend of ours," Neil said. A ruggedly handsome man with prematurely thinning hair and gentle eyes, Neil always had a half smile on his face even in the most serious moments. Sometimes I thought it was his way of encouraging the rest of us to loosen up and take things lightly, and other times I wondered if he was masking his real feelings with a disarming grin. I'd soon discover that Neil could be a toughie at times.

Derek was telling Neil how I had helped chauffeur him around Los Angeles when I heard a voice behind me and felt someone brush past my chair.

"Neil, have you any idea if John is coming in today?" Paul said. "John and Yoko are in my office now," Neil said.

The conversation continued between Derek, Neil, and Paul McCartney, but I can't remember one word of it. All I could think about was the fact that Paul McCartney was standing right in front of me, close enough that I could have reached out and touched him, and John Lennon and Yoko Ono were a few steps away. Was this really happening?

"Paul, this is Chris O'Dell," Derek was saying, "a friend from Los Angeles."

"Hullo, Chris," Paul said, smiling down at me. "Hi," I said, smiling up at him. As hard as I tried, I couldn't get that stupid smile off my face. It was frozen there.

Paul, Neil, and Derek returned to their conversation while I quietly excused myself, giving Derek a little wave as I left the office. It was all too much for me. I walked into the reception area, expecting to be alone and hoping to pull myself back together, but sitting on a small sofa, as close together as they could be without sitting right on top of each other, were John and Yoko. They both turned at the same time to see who had entered the room. I smiled. They smiled back.

I stayed at the Apple offices until eight o'clock that night, when Derek left to catch the train to his country home and I jumped in a taxi for my last night in the bed and breakfast. I didn't have a job yet, but I had already made up my mind that I would show up for work every day until someone gave me something to do.

I had walked into that building a fan, just like the rest of the world, adoring the Beatles from afar. They had been pictures in magazines, images on the television screen, or at the cinema, voices on vinyl, all fitting into my own little fantasy. But that had all changed in a matter of hours. I had seen them, talked to them, occupied the same space they did. And they, perhaps only for a second, knew who I was. Never again would my life be the same. I had crossed the line and entered into their world. I knew instantly that I belonged there." Chris O'Dell, "Miss O'Dell", Simon & Schuster, S. 22 - 24