Klopp frau

klopp frau

Febr. 1. Als Jürgen Klopp seine zweite Frau Ulla in einer Münchner Bar kennenlernt, Schon drei Tage später ziehen sie zusammen, wird. In den 80er-Jahren kommt der „technisch limitierte Kicker“ (Klopp) viel herum, spielt zeitweise jedes Jahr für einen anderen Club. strandet er bei Mainz 05 . Febr. Als Jürgen Klopp seine zweite Frau Ulla in einer Münchner Bar kennenlernt, Schon drei Tage später ziehen sie zusammen, wird.

Klopp Frau Video

Jürgen Klopp Family, Biography, Cars, Fashion And LifeStyle

I no longer played an active role in the scout movement. But my desire to get out of the city and enjoy nature in the company of friends was as strong as ever.

Among my friends, who had survived the nine-year culling process at the high school, only Hans and Helmut were left.

All the others were either eliminated by the academic hurdles or departed on their own looking for other ways of moving up the educational ladder.

Ever since I did Helmut that great favour at the ballroom final, he was seeking my friendship and clung to me like a burr on a woollen sweater.

He wanted to be included in our overnight camp-outs. When I objected on the grounds that there was not enough room in my tent, he replied that he would sleep in his own tent.

So it happened one sunny weekend that three young men went out camping together, with Helmut — so it appeared — being the odd man out.

Hans and I in spite of our differences shared a bond that had lasted for more than five years. Our friendship was based on experiences in the boy scout movement, on our common interest in experimental electronics, all the way back to early days on the school yard, when I was Ede Wolf and Hans one of three piglets that I was supposed to catch.

Helmut was a newcomer and in a sense also an intruder, gentle, polite, simply wanting to be part of our camaraderie. Perhaps on his part it was a struggle against loneliness that intellectuals feel more intensely, but we perceived him as an intruder just the same.

It was evening, when we arrived on our heavily packed bikes at a clearing. We quickly erected our tents helping each other to get ready for the night.

After we had wolfed down our sandwiches, which our mothers had so lovingly prepared, we hurried into the woods, gathered dead branches and proudly started a campfire with only one match.

In no time, flames leaped up and around the kettle, which we had suspended over the fire on a wooden tripod. Helmut, in my eyes still an intellectual nerd, impressed me how well he had learned the basics of camping in such a short time, and most of all how hard he tried to be helpful.

The tea water in the kettle had almost come to a boil. Hans and I ceremoniously took turns adding tea bags, plenty of red wine, pepper and other assorted spices into the steaming brew.

We lifted the kettle off the tripod to prevent the alcohol from evaporating. To fortify the punch some more, I pulled from my coat pocket a small bottle of rum and poured its brown content under the approving applause of my friends into the aromatic brew.

By now it was getting dark. The stars began to shine in ever increasing numbers on the canopy of a moonless sky. The fire merrily crackled and its fiery tongues shot up high casting dancing shadows of us onto the mossy ground.

Hans grabbed his six-string and entertained us for a while with Spanish guitar music, which he played superbly off the cuff. In the meantime, the cups needed a refill.

The warmth of this miraculous elixir penetrated deep into our bodies and spirits. He would whistle along, whenever he recognized the tune, he said.

Soon a chorus in a strange blend of young male voices, guitar chords, and whistling rose above the campfire strengthened in volume and enthusiasm by the concoction from the kettle.

The birds waking up in the forest may have wondered why we were making such a cheerful noise. The booze, the raucous singing, the flickering flames, the starry night, all contributed to conjure up images in our young hearts of a time wild and free, in which we participated for this one short moment and in which Helmut had become a member of our friendship circle.

Long after midnight we poured the remaining dregs from the kettle over the embers and happy and sleepy crawled into our sleeping bags.

Pentecost was a long weekend and the beginning of a one-week break from school, the last one before the summer holidays.

Hans had dropped out of our planned camping trip, because he had to baby-sit his younger stepbrothers and sisters. So Helmut and I got together to discuss our destination and the supplies we needed for the two and a half days.

The reasons for the choice of our campsite will forever remain one of the great mysteries of my life. The nearby forests on either side of the River Rhine were within easy reach of a two- or three-hour bike ride.

Our favourite camping sites were on federal land, rarely controlled for trespassing by forestry officials, miles away from the noisy highways, perfect places to be in tune with Mother Nature.

The choice for this particular location was the opposite of everything I had learned to cherish during the years as a scout. As Helmut and I unfolded the map for the area of North Rhine Westphalia, we glanced over the tent icons, which marked the locations of campsites, and spotted one that bordered directly on a lake.

On closer inspection we found out that it was Lake Baldeney between the city of Essen to the north and the city of Velbert to the south.

Apart from the dead side branches of the River Rhine, there was no real lake in the vicinity of Wesel. It appears to me that the things one does not have exert a certain attraction that one often finds hard to resist.

So despite nagging doubts that in the light of the hard facts we had made a poor choice about our camping destination, our decision to go there was irrevocable.

Who would have thought it possible that I would have considered taking a train to go camping? Was it not totally insane to trade a peaceful refuge in the forest for the hustle and bustle of a noisy commercial campground?

The Rhine was filthy and burdened with chemical pollutants that came from the Ruhr industrial area, to which we were planning to go. With the economic recovery of West Germany came the demand for energy.

Mining for the high-quality anthracite coal was in high gear bringing work and prosperity to the region, albeit at a price.

On windless days the coal dust polluted the air. Dirt and grime covered walls, lawns, and even the wash that women hung up to dry.

Yes, it is hard to believe that Helmut and I actually went, where — as people who knew the area around Essen warned us — the sun would seldom completely break through the grey cover of a leaden sky.

So it came to pass that on the late afternoon of June 9 th , , two young men carrying heavy backpacks and holding a two-man tent between the two of them arrived at the Baldeney Lake campground.

Helmut and I were pleasantly surprised to view scenery quite different from what we had anticipated to find. The sky had cleared from the cleansing action of an early morning rain.

There was not even a layer of industrial haze left to obscure the blue sky. The sun shone brightly, the trees were in full leaf, the lawn impressed us with its light-green spring verdure, best of all the brilliantly shining lake reflecting the blue sky created an ambiance we had not expected in a park south of the city of Essen.

Since it was still early in the season and only a few hardy people had ventured out to camp, we had no trouble finding a suitable site near the lake shore to set up our tent.

We enjoyed an early supper, which I had prepared from a can of chunky soup and had heated it up over my gasoline fuelled camp stove.

We spent the evening listening to pop music from my transistor radio and were taking in the lush-green trees and bushes that the locals call the green lung of the Ruhr region.

The only reminder that the black gold was mined north of here deep down from the rich coal deposits came when we looked at the dark soles of our feet black from our bare-foot walk through the park.

Next morning after a frugal breakfast with cereal and milk we pulled out our air mattresses into the brilliant morning sun.

We relaxed reading, listening to music from Radio Luxembourg and watched people saunter by on the way to the beach. Two men, one in his early sixties, the other a little bit younger than I, caught our attention as they brought two of those so-called folding boats down to the lake shore.

They can be easily transported on buses, trains, and even in the trunk of a car, because when folded together they easily fit into a large duffle bag.

For lunch I opened a can of sardines, an excellent staple for people like us traveling on a shoestring budget. Helmut having relied on me for the provisions grumbled about the meal that consisted only of slices of dry bread and fish.

In the meantime the boaters had returned to their tent with the folding boats. As we found out later, they were Herr Panknin and his son Walter.

It seemed strange to us that they had nothing to eat and just sat there as if they were waiting for something. That something was obviously food.

For now at a distance we noticed two persons approaching the camping area. As they came nearer, they turned out to be a woman and a young girl carrying baskets filled with delicious food perfect for a picnic in the sun.

Enviously we looked on, as Frau Panknin and daughter Gertrud with a rather curious nickname Biene Bee in English unpacked the mouthwatering content of the baskets.

We could see that this was culinary heaven on earth, Schlaraffenland, as a German fairy tale by Grimm so aptly describes the land, where people eat the finest delicacies in gluttonous quantities without having to work for them.

What attracted me to this family, however, was not so much the food, which in comparison to our lunch was so alluring, but rather that pretty seventeen-year old girl whose first impressions on me provided a good match with the image of idealized beauty that had been growing in my mind for the past two years.

Biene, from the moment I cast my eyes on her, radiated a charm whose magic did not depend on bracelets, earrings, and similar outward adornments, not on make-up or perfume, which I rightly or wrongly loathed as poorly disguised cover-ups, but rather on the very lack of all those artificial means.

In short, I gazed in admiration at the girl of my dreams. Helmut and I were watching Biene and her twin brother play badminton in the open field.

There was no net. The game was not very competitive. Its objective was to set new records by counting the number of times the birdie would fly back and forth before hitting the grass.

Suddenly the idea occurred to me that we all could organize a mini-tournament with two pairs competing with each other for the highest score.

After we had introduced ourselves, I explained the idea of a badminton tournament to be played with two pairs. Seeing that this would add a little bit of excitement, Walter and Biene readily accepted the proposal.

As I had secretly wished, Biene wanted to form a team with me. I no longer recall how many rounds we played, but Biene and I always succeeded in getting the greatest number of hits.

We were both very competitive, but the success in the game depended on complete cooperation. We felt good about our victories over our rivals and even more so, because we had won them together.

It was only a matter of time, until the topic of the folding boats would surface in our conversation. Walter suggested going for a ride on the lake.

Herr and Frau Panknin voiced no objections, indeed they were happy to see their twins go boating and at the same time having a little bit of peace and quiet.

Somehow Helmut had managed to partner with Biene, which at first made feel quite annoyed. But he argued convincingly that it was now his turn, since I had spent so much time playing badminton with her.

As I was paddling with Walter, I soon got over my disappointment. Full of enthusiasm for his hobbies, Walter talked about his model airplanes and ships that he had been building.

What I could vaguely at the time was that we could have saved ourselves a lot of pain and agony in the not too distant future, if we had been able to communicate with each other just a little better.

Perhaps all of these things! The plain fact, however, was that we could not sleep. With the two upstairs bedrooms so close to each other it would have been so simple on any of the three nights to yield to temptation.

But we did not. I would be a hypocrite, if I was going to explain our conduct in terms of a moral victory. It just happened, almost certainly for our own good.

The romantic meal in the Taufsteinhütte restaurant sounds wonderful! Full marks for that. As for the mystery gift from Schotten… Oh, dear.

I guess it could have been worse. I mean, Hohner is the best brand for harmonicas. Like Liked by 1 person. I am so glad to have one male blogger friend, who appreciates the value of a Hohner harmonica.

I know we cannot put a dollar value on love. But the harmonica was a very precious and thoughtful gift, which Biene actually played a lot during our long separation.

Thanks, Bun, for your understanding! Dear Peter,if we look back,we see life is like a movie,our movie,we are the actors.

I am very happy for your family that you made good decions on your way. I wish you and your family all the best. Many warm greetings from Crete.

Life is like a movie, except for the fact that we cannot memorize our roles. Situations may be similar, but each one is unique and requires a unique response.

Or else we would be like robots. Thank you for your insightful comment, Jeannette! Lieber Peter, Deine Geschichte rührt mich immer wieder, aber als Frau verstehe ich Biene auch ganz gut.

Es ist wirklich das Wichtigste auf der Welt, auf derselben Ebene zu kommunizieren wie der Partner. Aber das habe ich leider auch nicht so richtig hinbekommen.

Wobei man ja immer sagt, dass Mann und Frau andere Wege haben zur Kommunikation. Ich hoffe, die Geschichte geht gut aus. Ja, das stimmt, liebe Mitza.

Die Unfähigkeit, unsere Gedanken und Gefühle offen miteinander zu teilen, musste in einem langen Erfahrungsprozess überwunden werden.

In der Geschichte kommen noch so manche Probleme und Krisen auf uns zu. Vielen Dank für deinen verständnisvollen Kommentar, liebe Mitza!

Thanks for sharing your lovely story. Indeed, it all worked out in the end. Last week I celebrated my 75th birthday. Two of our five sons and their partners were able to attend the celebration and the others who are scattered all over the globe Montreal and Germany either phoned or called by Skype.

I am still a bit exuberant about so much happiness. Thank you, Ann, for your lovely comment! Das letzte Zusammensein in Deutschland.

Und natürlich wäre ein Ring für Biene das Schönste gewesen. Aber dass sie sich ihre Enttäuschung nicht hat anmerken lassen,spricht doch Bände!

Aber das ist oft leichter gesagt als getan,zu viele Unsicherheiten spielen da manchmal mit hinein. Und das kann in jedem Lebensabschnitt wieder mal passieren..

Liebe Grüsse aus Sottmar! Liebe Edda, ich möchte nichts vorwegnehmen. Aber deine Einsicht in die Gedankenwelt zweier Liebenden, zwingt mich geradezu jetzt schon anzudeuten, dass die Ringgeschichte noch längst nicht zu Ende ist.

Heute ist Biene wieder bei der Arbeit. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account.

Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. In the kingdom of life, with the strokes of the brush, the bow and the pen, artists have sowed their hearts to contrive, fields rivalling in beauty the Garden of Eden.

Methinks that the moment my legs begin to move my thoughts begin to flow Be grateful for the highs. Be graceful in the lows.

Enjoy life fully and find contentment in your Middle Ground" Val Boyko. Card Sent Home to announce my Coming. Biene on our Hike to the Vogelsberg Peak.

Schotten — April Klopp Story , Writing Tags: Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email Address never made public.

Poetry and Prose From soul to soul. Little Fears Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes. Susan Rushton Celebrating gardens, nature, photography and a creative life.

Backyard Photographer Spark creativity by capturing the world around you one photo at a time. The Hejhej blog Another blog that you dont need.

The Flowers of Art In the kingdom of life, with the strokes of the brush, the bow and the pen, artists have sowed their hearts to contrive, fields rivalling in beauty the Garden of Eden.

Barker science fiction writer. Calmgrove Exploring the world of ideas through books.

Klopp frau -

Was man bei vielen Kolumnen nicht sofort erkennt. Aber wir wollen die Tabellenführung mit in die Sommerpause nehmen", sagte beispielsweise Stadionsprecher Norbert Dickel. Trotzdem zeigte man sich lange Zeit sehr zurückhaltend: Vettel hat noch Arbeit vor sich Heute feiert Jürgen Klopp seinen Sie waren einige Zeit inaktiv. Weitere Videos aus dem Ressort. Und alle sahen, dass hier ein junger Torwart die Verantwortung allein zu tragen hatte, ohne seinen Manager. Und ganz sicher hat er es nicht verdient, das Finale auf so brutale Art und Weise zu verlieren. Jürgen Klopp Bierchen mit seinen Fans. Als nicht zu übersehen war, dass Jürgen Klopps Geheimratsecken verschwunden waren und Gerüchte um eine Haartransplantation die Runde machten, reagierte der gebürtige Stuttgarter ehrlich, anstatt die Schönheitsoperation zu leugnen. Weiss einer, welches Match das erste Profimatch von Angie war? Auf den Pressekonferenzen und in Interviews zeigte er sich häufig von seiner humorvollen Seite. Wenn Lahm sich öffentlich äussert, dann nicht ohne Grund. Dass im Falle des Triumphs alle jubeln und im Fall der Klatsche keiner allein in den Abgrund fallen muss. Mo Salah hat seine eigene Statue bekommen. Fans können sich freuen:

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I just wish I could change places with him". Christmas First look around Liverpool's Christmas Ice Festival with ice rink and festive markets The Ice Festival will feature fairground rides, an ice slide and Christmas market stalls.

Of course, I could not tell her what it was; after all it was supposed to be a mystery gift. Biene behaved as if she knew the secret.

Therefore, she kept her innate curiosity for all things unknown to her in check. If I had a picture of us two walking into town, I would in a comic-book-like fashion place two speech bubbles above our heads.

I will be so happy! She will be so happy! Instead she was now in possession of a fancy harmonica that could be played on both sides in keys C and G.

Biene looked pleased and even appeared happy, but I am sure that deep inside she was also a bit disappointed. What I could vaguely at the time was that we could have saved ourselves a lot of pain and agony in the not too distant future, if we had been able to communicate with each other just a little better.

Perhaps all of these things! The plain fact, however, was that we could not sleep. With the two upstairs bedrooms so close to each other it would have been so simple on any of the three nights to yield to temptation.

But we did not. I would be a hypocrite, if I was going to explain our conduct in terms of a moral victory. It just happened, almost certainly for our own good.

The romantic meal in the Taufsteinhütte restaurant sounds wonderful! Full marks for that. As for the mystery gift from Schotten… Oh, dear.

I guess it could have been worse. I mean, Hohner is the best brand for harmonicas. Like Liked by 1 person. I am so glad to have one male blogger friend, who appreciates the value of a Hohner harmonica.

I know we cannot put a dollar value on love. But the harmonica was a very precious and thoughtful gift, which Biene actually played a lot during our long separation.

Thanks, Bun, for your understanding! Dear Peter,if we look back,we see life is like a movie,our movie,we are the actors.

I am very happy for your family that you made good decions on your way. I wish you and your family all the best. Many warm greetings from Crete.

Life is like a movie, except for the fact that we cannot memorize our roles. Situations may be similar, but each one is unique and requires a unique response.

Or else we would be like robots. Thank you for your insightful comment, Jeannette! Lieber Peter, Deine Geschichte rührt mich immer wieder, aber als Frau verstehe ich Biene auch ganz gut.

Es ist wirklich das Wichtigste auf der Welt, auf derselben Ebene zu kommunizieren wie der Partner. Aber das habe ich leider auch nicht so richtig hinbekommen.

Wobei man ja immer sagt, dass Mann und Frau andere Wege haben zur Kommunikation. Ich hoffe, die Geschichte geht gut aus.

Ja, das stimmt, liebe Mitza. Die Unfähigkeit, unsere Gedanken und Gefühle offen miteinander zu teilen, musste in einem langen Erfahrungsprozess überwunden werden.

In der Geschichte kommen noch so manche Probleme und Krisen auf uns zu. Vielen Dank für deinen verständnisvollen Kommentar, liebe Mitza!

Thanks for sharing your lovely story. Indeed, it all worked out in the end. Last week I celebrated my 75th birthday. Two of our five sons and their partners were able to attend the celebration and the others who are scattered all over the globe Montreal and Germany either phoned or called by Skype.

I am still a bit exuberant about so much happiness. Thank you, Ann, for your lovely comment! Das letzte Zusammensein in Deutschland.

The only reminder that the black gold was mined north of here deep down from the rich coal deposits came when we looked at the dark soles of our feet black from our bare-foot walk through the park.

Next morning after a frugal breakfast with cereal and milk we pulled out our air mattresses into the brilliant morning sun. We relaxed reading, listening to music from Radio Luxembourg and watched people saunter by on the way to the beach.

Two men, one in his early sixties, the other a little bit younger than I, caught our attention as they brought two of those so-called folding boats down to the lake shore.

They can be easily transported on buses, trains, and even in the trunk of a car, because when folded together they easily fit into a large duffle bag.

For lunch I opened a can of sardines, an excellent staple for people like us traveling on a shoestring budget.

Helmut having relied on me for the provisions grumbled about the meal that consisted only of slices of dry bread and fish.

In the meantime the boaters had returned to their tent with the folding boats. As we found out later, they were Herr Panknin and his son Walter. It seemed strange to us that they had nothing to eat and just sat there as if they were waiting for something.

That something was obviously food. For now at a distance we noticed two persons approaching the camping area. As they came nearer, they turned out to be a woman and a young girl carrying baskets filled with delicious food perfect for a picnic in the sun.

Enviously we looked on, as Frau Panknin and daughter Gertrud with a rather curious nickname Biene Bee in English unpacked the mouthwatering content of the baskets.

We could see that this was culinary heaven on earth, Schlaraffenland, as a German fairy tale by Grimm so aptly describes the land, where people eat the finest delicacies in gluttonous quantities without having to work for them.

What attracted me to this family, however, was not so much the food, which in comparison to our lunch was so alluring, but rather that pretty seventeen-year old girl whose first impressions on me provided a good match with the image of idealized beauty that had been growing in my mind for the past two years.

Biene, from the moment I cast my eyes on her, radiated a charm whose magic did not depend on bracelets, earrings, and similar outward adornments, not on make-up or perfume, which I rightly or wrongly loathed as poorly disguised cover-ups, but rather on the very lack of all those artificial means.

In short, I gazed in admiration at the girl of my dreams. Helmut and I were watching Biene and her twin brother play badminton in the open field.

There was no net. The game was not very competitive. Its objective was to set new records by counting the number of times the birdie would fly back and forth before hitting the grass.

Suddenly the idea occurred to me that we all could organize a mini-tournament with two pairs competing with each other for the highest score.

After we had introduced ourselves, I explained the idea of a badminton tournament to be played with two pairs. Seeing that this would add a little bit of excitement, Walter and Biene readily accepted the proposal.

As I had secretly wished, Biene wanted to form a team with me. I no longer recall how many rounds we played, but Biene and I always succeeded in getting the greatest number of hits.

We were both very competitive, but the success in the game depended on complete cooperation. We felt good about our victories over our rivals and even more so, because we had won them together.

It was only a matter of time, until the topic of the folding boats would surface in our conversation. Walter suggested going for a ride on the lake.

Herr and Frau Panknin voiced no objections, indeed they were happy to see their twins go boating and at the same time having a little bit of peace and quiet.

Somehow Helmut had managed to partner with Biene, which at first made feel quite annoyed. But he argued convincingly that it was now his turn, since I had spent so much time playing badminton with her.

As I was paddling with Walter, I soon got over my disappointment. Full of enthusiasm for his hobbies, Walter talked about his model airplanes and ships that he had been building.

That was quite a pastime for Walter and took a lot of time, skills and dedication to bring a building project of this kind to perfection.

I thought that just as Walter needed to have a plan and all the parts ready before he could even begin, so did I going through the same process in building a working radio.

The moment Walter mentioned that he was thinking of using radio controlled devices to direct his model in the air or on water, I got quite excited and told him about my electronics projects, especially about the tube driven transmitter that provided musical entertainment to my friends in the apartment block in Wesel.

Having found an area of common interest, we paddled less and less vigorously and talked all the more enthusiastically not realizing how fast time had been slipping by.

When we pulled the boat ashore, we had already exchanged addresses and promised each other to mail each other schematics of electronic circuitry. Of course, what Walter did not know was that I had established a link to Biene, a connection that went beyond mere electronics.

Like in an electric current, which the battery is pumping through a circuit providing energy and action to its individual parts, so warm feelings were flowing through my heart in the belief that Biene may have taken a liking to me during our badminton contest with Walter and Helmut.

I am so glad you are reposting these chapters. I would never have found this one on my own, and now I realize that your story began long before you met Biene.

And the quote from Einstein is perfect—we do not know how much fate or luck or God determines the path of our lives. Have you ever seen the movie Sliding Doors?

It is all about that question. And I was glad to read that you accepted Helmut as a friend—I was starting to feel a bit sorry for him!

Like Liked by 2 people. Thank you very much, Amy, for your interest in the rerun! I was afraid that by publishing the story in entire chapters it would be too large a chunk to bite.

I will definitely look into getting the movie Sliding Doors. Perhaps they have it on NetFlix. Like Liked by 1 person.

Like Liked by 3 people. Oh, to be young again … and hold her in my arms! Well, as it turned out after Biene and I got married, we became friends again.

Peter, thank you for giving us the beginning of the story with Bienne and her family. Walter seems so likable. I am sure what happened later with you and Bienne blind sighted him.

Blessings to you and Bienne! Less than 2 years later we were good friends. Ah your first move to get the address of Walter , has been the clever key move to your future.

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