During my work for the Druzhba route, I was on the road a lot. That was very convenient for me.
If it was compatible with Christiane’s duty at the hospital, I took her with me on business trips. During the consultations, she usually slept in the car or looked around. Now and then we had some time in the afternoon for a stroll or a cup of coffee somewhere in a town.
Chris’ calmness and modesty always impressed me. She spoke little, but during the long car rides she could listen for hours when I was talking the frustrations of the day off my chest. For both of us, these trips were modest but happy hours.
Chris had gained in maturity; there was no longer any sign of the great age difference. I was just a fleeting young-girl crush for her. I could no longer imagine a separation from Chris, nor did I want to. At the beginning of autumn, little by little, all the defects of the new apartment became painfully visible.
During the first continuous rain, water ran down the facade and seeped through the dilapidated windows. The new neighbor was plagued by the same worries.
Therefore, he borrowed an elevating platform from his company, with the help of which we repaired the worst damage to the roof and patched up the gutters more or less.
When the heating season began, all three tiled stoves failed to work even after cleaning and smoked terribly. So I took a look at the chimneys. It was unbelievable what I saw there: Blue smoke was billowing in the attic from head-sized holes in two chimneys.
In the smoke, reddish-yellow sparks danced openly like fireflies through the storerooms filled with bulky waste and junk. That the roof truss had not yet burned down was nothing short of a miracle.
The next day, I got some large metal sheets, covered the holes with them, and secured them with strong wire to prevent them from slipping.
The draft in the chimneys improved immediately, and the flying sparks stopped. Somewhat calmed, but angry, I drove to the district chimney sweep with a demand for immediate remedy. ‘Young man,’ began the black lucky charm, ‘I am aware of your problem.’
I haven’t swept the six chimneys on the roof of the mansion for about two years now because I can’t walk on the rotten running board unless I’m tired of living. The repair and that of the chimneys is the responsibility of the owner.
But he lives in the Federal Republic and has long since lost interest in his property; the Wall or, if you like, the anti-fascist protective wall ensures that. The property is therefore inevitably administered by the KWV under the designation ‘Treuhandgrundstück’.
From the 70 Pfennig rent per square meter, it can only pay the property tax and the garbage collection and has neither material nor manpower to carry out the necessary repairs.
If you have the strength and courage to save the villa from the wrecking ball, the materials and labor will be paid for by the Municipal Housing Authority out of taxpayers’ money.
This hopeless situation forces me to eventually close the fireplaces for safety reasons, which I should have done long ago, but then eight families will no longer have a home.
‘I give you the well-intentioned advice, move out as soon as possible!’ With that, he dismissed me. The good man had no way of knowing that Chris and her sister had whimsically moved in just a few months ago. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭…
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