23December1995

London and Germany: End December 1995
My dear folks,

(Forgive the repetition and just read the bits you didn’t get earlier)
Tuesday evening 26/12: We are home. Our Christmas weekend has gone we hardly know where. Mavis greeted us with his most famished & desolate cries &, having been fed & loved, has retired to the comfort of his sunlamp box. We have downed reviving Rusty Nails, an even mixture of Drambuie & Whisky which we can recommend to you for special occasions. And we are about to sit down to supper & some reflection after spending the day returning to London from a wonderful Christmas celebration.

Saturday 23/12: There is something particularly Germanic about Germany which is much more easily sensed than defined. One cannot be in Germany even for a brief period & not know it. It is not exactly the orderliness, or the precision or the geography or the architecture or the language or the forests - although these are all part of it. It is something ancient in the character of the people & the country. You see it in the way the driver of the Airport bus to Mannheim turns the radio on & waits for the chimes. On the stroke of the hour he pulls away. This is when he is supposed to leave & this is when the bus departs. Germans know what has to be done & when to do it. They live in a more ordered world than other folk. It is more exacting but it is also more secure.

No doubt matters are a great deal more complex than this. But now is not the time to delve into them. We are in Germany & very pleased to be here. We are celebrating Christmas in the Rhine valley village of Hambach in the company of our hosts, the Gohdeses, & the Witbank Bensons who have joined them. The village has been around for a very long time. It is marked by an air of permanence. Christmas is in the air & in the windows but it is a solemn festival, rooted in the soul & not in the pocket.

Our departure from London was an early morning affair. I arose at 03.15 when I woke because, as always, I had things to do. Sorting out my study is like cleaning the Augean stables. Jones was not on top of the world when I took her a cup of coffee. We had enjoyed our own small Christmas celebration the previous evening & now that she lives a life of excessive moderation she is liable to pay for the least indulgence. Her improvement, happily, was rapid. We were already packed - sufficient bags for 3 weeks rather than 3 days. They were stuffed with food & warm clothes, the former designed for our Christmas festivities, the latter intended mainly for the use of the Witbankers. We knew that Germany was liable to be cold & had promised to lend the visitors the ultra-warm clothing we had acquired during our Canadian ski-holidays.

London was enjoying a C10◦ heat-wave & we sweltered out to our 05.45 taxi under coats more suitable for -10◦. Even at that hour, Heathrow was a tangle of traffic & people. I expected an equally packed aircraft. To our pleasant surprise, we found few passengers sharing a big plane with the rare luxury of space. It was due in, allowing for the time change, at 10.15. Our aim was to catch the 11.00 bus. Cathy had warned us that we would be landing at Frankfurt's new Terminal 2 & would need to take the "sky-train" link to Terminal 1. Frankfurt, incredibly, was even warmer than London.

German Immigration officials are very thorough. EU or no EU, they scrutinised every passport while we queued impatiently. We waited again for our luggage which was in no hurry to rejoin us. Then we ran for the sky-train. We ran again through the crowded vastness of Terminal 1 towards the distant bus. It's hard to run when you're dressed for the Arctic & carrying two bags each. But we did. We made it with 4 minutes to spare & we collapsed into the bus. On the stroke of 11.00 we set out for Mannheim.

Rolf met us & brought us to Hambach, stopping en route to buy a huge quantity of smoked salmon & other goodies with a large donation from Mum. It was his second trip of the day. He'd been up long before dawn to fetch the Witbankers from Frankfurt. The weather was warm & drizzly. It was strange to see Bren & co. in Hambach, especially Bren. His children have taken to travelling the world but he has seldom been able to stray. That made it all the nicer.

We are a handsome party, if I say so myself. Conal is a good looking young fellow on the threshold of manhood. His girlfriend, Sandra, is a lovely person whose affection for him is palpable. I hope it is equally returned. Micaela & Erica are much the same size & share musical tastes, not with their parents mind you. Anita, like her sister, is growing fast. She's a big girl & she's going to be bigger. Like her sister, she's as sharp as nails. They are all excellent company.

Rolf & Cathy had booked us in at a guesthouse 2kms away in the neighbouring village of Diedesfeld. It is perfect for our needs, tranquil & comfortable with a view up across the vineyards to Hambacher Schloss & down over the valley as far as the weather will allow. With their help & a little sign language, we have no problem communicating with our hosts. As always, the wife runs the establishment. Husband is in the background. As well as the Christmas decorations - and nowhere does Christmas decs like the Germans - there are traditional carvings & statuettes & paintings & nick-knacks distributed around the guesthouse with a blend of precision & taste. We walked back to Hambach through the vineyards, through the drizzle & dying light.

I don't remember what happened to Saturday night. It went somewhere, together with a deal of smoked salmon & Rusty Nails & good cheer. Brendan and I discovered a mutual liking for malt whiskies & Drambuies which surprised no-one. Cathy & Rolf took a modicum of wine. Conal allowed himself a beer or two. Rusty Nails did not take his fancy, which was a very good thing. Festive sobriety was the order of the day. Plate after plate of good things rolled out of the kitchen, courtesy of our hardworking hosts. It's years since we celebrated a family Christmas & it was very special indeed.

Sunday 24/12: After breakfast most of us sat down to watch Pride & Prejudice upstairs in the granny flat which is being occupied by Bren & Conal. Barbara & I found as much pleasure in the production the 2nd time as the 1st. Everybody was entranced, even Erica & Anita who we thought might have some difficulty with the language. Not so, the tension between the hero & heroine & the course of the drama was perfectly clear to them, even if all the words were not, & they enjoyed it as much as the rest of us. Several times I asked Erica what she thought would happen next & each time she predicted the course of events with unerring accuracy. No flies on Erica.

The rain finally stopped in the afternoon. I took Jones for a walk, up the hill & briefly into the forest. It was too slippery & muddy to tempt us far. We returned via a different route, peering into the huge houses that line the roads, each house perfectly finished, each garden a model of propriety. It is almost too perfect. What was not perfect was the fit of my ancient climbing boots which I had discovered, to my great pleasure, tucked away in the nook. The mud of Table Mountain still clung to them.

These, I thought, would be perfect for the snow & ice we could expect to find over Christmas - stout, double-lined & mounted on half an inch of grippy sole. As it turned out, their contours & mine had diverged over 20 years & on our un-snowy & un-icy tramps they ground away at my heels, producing blisters which grew larger as my steps grew shorter. The most comfortable of walking shoes lay idle in my cupboard at home. The irony was not lost on me.

For supper, Cathy prepared raclette, hooking up both her raclette grills & sitting one at either end of the extended table. She also found deep in a corner two bottles of South African wine that has been waiting since the mid 1970s for appreciative consumers. The stuff was liquid velvet & the meal was just as good. The ladies & some of the men had taken special trouble with their appearance. Sandra had transformed herself into an elegant young woman. Beside her, Conal appeared as a young man of distinction. I ought in fairness to mention each of our company but it was Conal & Sandra on the threshold of their adult lives who particularly caught my eye. The others had time enough to make their mark. Then we gathered around the Christmas tree, alive with its lit candles, to sing Silent Night in English & in German in a ritual special to our hosts.

It fell upon me to distribute the Christmas gifts lying beneath the tree. I felt that it should be done slowly, with due appreciation. But the recipients were having nothing of it & fell upon the booty like pirates, filling the rooms with oohs & aahs. Inevitably, we were all spoiled. The scene broke up early for Erica was serving mass & had to go off with Rolf & Cathy. The rest of us put on our coats & went for a stroll through old Hambach.

The weather had turned colder & the sceptical party began to appreciate why we had brought such a lot of clothing. Anita led us around the village, past the spectral Christmas trees & back home along the silent streets. Jones & I kissed them goodnight & walked back through the darkness to our guesthouse. Far above us, the castle walls of Hambacher Schloss towered in the glare of spotlights.

Monday 25/12. The morning dawned misty and chilly. I managed to find the BBC for an update on the news. We had come across local American stations but found them next to useless. News of snowfalls in California might have been of interest to some of their listeners but it wasn't to us. At breakfast, we discovered the other guests whose noises off we had heard earlier. There were two groups, both dressed in clothes that spoke eloquently of means & good taste. They had the look of good burgers about them. Jones & I set off for Hambach. But barely had we departed than Rolf pulled up beside us. His kindness & Cathy's never failed & we wondered whether they would need a holiday after we'd gone.

Christmas Day was dry & much cooler. Rolf took us on a forest walk that was decidedly mushy in places. The forest floor & the path we took were covered in leaves, all of summer's bounty forming a soft carpet underfoot. Rolf & Jones walked ahead, the athletes. Then followed Conal & Sandra, the lovers. Behind came Bren & I, talking of deep things & taking the occasional swig from the flask I had usefully discovered in my pocket. Rolf tried to demonstrate how, by immersing one's hand in icy water & then swinging one's arm around, one could heat it up. More foolish members of our party tried it. As they discovered, Rolf has a mischievous sense of humour.

We did not get to see the whole of Pride & Prejudice. We spent over an hour on Christmas Day watching the growing love of Darcy for Elizabeth & their mutual surprise when, against his better judgement, he proposed to her - and found himself rejected out of hand. But other things intervened & we left the video for the rest of the party to watch on their return from the farm. In the evening, we wandered around old Neustadt, taking in the Christmas lights & gazing with fascination at the amazing selection of goodies in the shops. The array is spectacular. Truly, if you have money to spare & want the finest of the fine, Germany is the place to find it. Finally, as usual, Jones & I walked back to our little guesthouse. We came to enjoy those walks & to sleep the better for them. It was growing colder. We thought it might snow.

Tuesday 26/12: Germany: The morning dawned with clear skies & the neighbouring pond semi-frozen over. It was bracing, a lovely day. Rolf picked us up after breakfast. We'd planned a quick visit to the bank but it was closed - a bit of a setback but not a real problem. Cash machines are ubiquitous & happy to accept cards from all over the world. So we took our farewells. The rest of the party planned to head in both cars down the freeways to a riding farm on the eastern edges of Germany. Rolf went off to see if he could hire a larger vehicle, prompted by the amount of luggage his Witbank guests were planning to take. Cathy dropped us off at Neustadt station. There we caught the equivalent of the milk train to Mannheim where the 12.30 Lufthansa bus would whisk us to the airport in ample time for our 15.30 flight.

Tuesday 26/ 12 London: The Lufthansa office in Mannheim is situated only 5 minutes’ walk from the station. We were pleased for it was cold & even though we had left behind the suitcases, our bags were stuffed. The Lufthansa lady looked alarmed at our arrival. The last bus, she explained, had left a few minutes ago & the next one was not due to leave until 14.30. It was the day after Christmas and there was a special schedule. Taxis were available but cost 180 Dms. We thanked her & returned to the station. We had time enough to spare & happily the rail service was not affected.

German rail ticket sellers, bless their hearts, are both helpful & fluent in English. They cut in long before you have tried to explain whether you want singles or returns on an ordinary train or an express. The next train to Frankfurt was due in 15 minutes & we caught it at our leisure. The story was repeated at Frankfurt station & we arrived at the airport in good time, having seen a great many more graffiti en route than I had expected in all of Germany. Not all the country was as smart as Hambach, as we were reminded.

We came home in a crowded 757, taking the airport bus to Paddington & walking the last mile. My blisters just held out. Britain too was cold. The north was lashed by savage blizzards. It was minus C18* in Glasgow. But that's life. We felt sorry for the poor people involved but it wasn't our problem. The flat was warm & cosy. A welcome fax awaited us from Cathy, saying they had secured a Combi for their trip; so did a bath, supper & bed.

Wednesday 27/12; It’s nearly time for me to leave for work. I have five nights ahead over the following 7 days. But I have lashed out & bought a second ticket to Germany, in order to spend another two days with the Gohdeses & Bensons on their return from the farm. I faxed Cathy at the farm today to tell her. I do look forward to it. It may help also to break the suddenness of the departure as the Witbankers leave on the Saturday afternoon & I on the Sunday.

Meanwhile, it’s cold in London and colder up north. Even a Canadian would be impressed.

My tale is long enough.

I hope yours has been as happy a Christmas,