Time for Bruce

I live in a tenement building at the edge of Zürich. It's a nice place, although our area has had the reputation of being probably the most boring place of town. But that is over, thanks to a shocking teenage gang rape case we are now the synonym for urban street credibility. I fear the rents will go up in due course with all the trendy folks flooding in due to the newly gained reputation.

As I said, it's a nice place, despite the close airport, seven railway lines in close range, tram turning place in hearing range, open air traditional folk music on early Sundays mornings from the restaurant nearby and the noisy allotment gardeners. There is lots of green in my view, grocery shops are in walking distance and my neighbors are nice (almost deaf or extremely tolerant).

The only problem is the lacking patio. Where do you want to make a proper barbecue?

But there is hope, as my dear friend Tina has informed me:



This balcony barbecue grill is called Bruce. It looks a bit silly, but what a name. I immediately think sweat-stained die-hard style wifebeater. The perfect setting for dead meat roasting on hot coals. There is only one problem. You can't drink wine to meat grilled on something called Bruce.

[Get Bruce]