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I’m trudgin up there, legs knackered, thinkin—*why so serious?*—like that Joker bloke from Dark Knight, ya know? Me fave flick! That chaos, that madness, it’s like this mountain’s soul. Wind’s howlin, rocks all jagged, feels like the bloody ridge is laughin at me. *Sharon!* Got me heart pumpin, angry as hell one minute—slipped on loose shale, nearly ate dirt—then happy as a pig in muck when I hit the top. Views for days, mate, bloody unreal!

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After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Rue de la Libération. Fresh produce, right? I’m all about that healthy life. I grab some apples, and this lady next to me starts chatting. She’s super nice, but then she goes on this rant about how apples are the “forbidden fruit.” I’m like, “Lady, chill. It’s just an apple.” But she’s all deep and philosophical. I’m just trying to figure out if I should get the red or green one.

Lederhosen at the ready for Bertrange Oktoberfest!