A SMALL TOWN IN GERMANY

Quite a lot of years ago, during a `former life,` I was part of an official delegation to complete the formal twinning arrangements between a small town in this country and one in Germany.

Now the whole idea of having twinning arrangements is interesting; on the face of it, it is a splendid movement based on the innocent and beguiling notion that having formal links with somewhere else in the world will lead to peace, harmony, friendship and understanding. And I guess that, on an innocent level, that may be so, as I suspect it was in my case.

It had taken a while to reach the point where formal arrangements could be finalised - I think there was some delay in confirming the bona fides of any community, wherever it may have been in the world, that was even willing to be twinned with us. However, came the day, we had all arrived at Frankfurt airport and been whisked away to our hosts, where we were to spend the next few days in cementing relationships. This consisted mainly of a formal ceremony in the local schloss (pictured), the exchange of scrolls and gifts, a concert in the local cathedral, much conviviality and sight-seeing visits to local places of interest.

One problem was, naturally enough, the language barrier - some of our hosts spoke good English and one or two of our delegation spoke passable German. As for me, I made use of what remained of the pidgin German I had picked up whilst defending western democracy from the communist threat during my 731 days of National Service, most of which was spent in the wasteland of BFPO 16. Given such limitations, the linguistic highlight was undoubtedly the tactic of speaking English in a very loud voice but with a fetching quasi-teutonic accent, thus giving the impression of fluency whilst simply adding to the overall confusion of the occasion.

The upshot of this was that when, on the last morning, a fellow delegate and I found ourselves alone for a change, we also found that we were holding our conversation still using German accents - shades of `Allo, `Allo. ` "Good moaning" indeed.

To end on a cynical note, I was intrigued by certain aspects of my twinning experience beyond the obvious innocence and good intentions which seemed to prevail. For example, given the huge world-wide choice of places with which to be twinned, why pick on an anonymous small town in Germany when venues such as the whole of the Caribbean may have provided more convivial candidates?

Then there was the historical context for me personally. I have childhood memories of sleeping under stairs to avoid the nightly devastation being visited upon the city, the docks and the villages up and down Southampton Water. Moreover, I was six years old before my father finally returned from incarceration in some relentless Stalag, the effects of which would contribute to his passing away at the ridiculously unfair age of just 62.

But that`s all in the past now, isn`t it? We`ve drawn lines in the sand and moved on. We`re all friends again now, aren`t we? Well, we are, aren`t we? Surely we are. Surely......