A cockroach snuffling into the pillow warm from the previous nights slumber may have been a portent of two weeks experiences in Germany. Thank heavens the Eurostar was cleaner and more corporate than the main stream hotel chain in Kings Cross.
To be honest, Germany was near the bottom of the ‘To Visit’ list – marginally above anywhere cold or anywhere north of Watford. The ‘North of Watford’ definition has been slightly amended to exclude The Cotswolds which are really quite pleasant to visit.
The trouble with Germany is that the language is German and totally unknown to those who have spent nearly all their European trips in France, Italy or Spain and dabbled in the romantic Latin based parlance where a Qui, s’il vous plait and a smile is guaranteed to sate any desire.
German is such a guttural language which appears to the novice to make no sense whatsoever and combines lots of smaller words presumably to look more intelligent and to save space used up by spaces on the paper.
And then there is the Basil Fawlty issue. For Sixty Something’s it is hard not to think of or mention the war. In the 1960’s Sunday t.v. was dominated by parents watching All Our Yesterdays with black and white and often grey images of marching soldiers, tanks traversing bombed fields of soaking mud, gun fodder scuttling along foot rot trenches and steam trains pulling armaments, shipping soldiers and carrying innocents.
This was to be a ‘Tour of Duty’ and there seemed to be very little to look forward to.
Claudia Bow 
Great post 😄
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