The turnstiles at Electronica, of which there are many, have the annoying habit of prodding your backside as you go through as if to say: 'On your way, sunshine'.
It's silly to get paranoid about an inanimate object but one can still get prickly thinking about the schadenfreude of the designer as he built this in.
Now, on Electronica's second day, I have devised a way of avoiding this boot up the bum by performing a forward pelvic thrust as I insert my access card into the turnstiles reader.
Now I'm paranoid about looking rather silly as I go through the turnstiles but I feel it's a small victory.
The other depressing thing about today is that I still haven't seen the 'naked woman of HalleA6'.
Everyone on the train home was talking about her. She's reputed to be a barmaid from the Hofbrauhaus which means she won't be a fragile little thing. An ST exec told me she was on the GreenHills stand but she wasn't when I (very surreptitiously) looked
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