The first thing that comes up to my mind is that I missed the Hyde Park Concert on Saturday (but a nice lad
recorded it for me on video; that reminds me of returning him an empty tape).
The second thing is surely the lectures of one certain Herr Schmitz. The most impressive was his speech held in
Cambridge Town Hall before the Lord Mayor with his smashing chain and a group of German visitors.
(Unfortunately I missed a part of his performance earlier that day at Harlow Communal Centre because I was
looking for our coach driver.) Anyway, his lectures deserve the highest praise: great oratory. There were
spontaneous outbursts of informative statements on history, geography and places of interest (no one dared to
yawn), but he showed himself at his best when making remarks at human peculiarities and typical group
habits.
June 27th, the day of the second Tube strike that summer. A group of students set off for what was planned to
be a nice stroll from Paddington to Knightsbridge and further on to Chelsea. The first few people got lost at
Harrods and half-way down King´s Road there were only four people left, two girls from the Black Metal
fraction, a really nice guy called Marc and myself. Later that day we ended up in Soho looking for a tattoo shop
(there seemed to be none, at least we didn´t find any), popped into a coffee bar, spent a couple of quid in
a really bad record shop and caught a glimpse of the Nickleodeon studios. During that stroll (it was only a 7
hours (!) walk with a little short cut by bus) I learnt a lot of interesting facts about music, especially Brit Pop
(but unfortunately most of it is long forgotten) and I showed the three students to enjoy London away from the
places where most tourists go.
Well, I faintly remember Wednesday. On that day the whole group was supposed to experience the venerable
Drury Lane Theatre and a show the story of which was set in the last days of the Vietnam War. It was a fine
show actually, but there were some circumstances that made the day memorable to a certain degree, that is,
quite a large number of the students were neither interested in the show nor enjoying a night out, they were just
crazy about a football match.
Wednesday was the day of the semi finals in the Euro ´96 tournament and England was playing
Berti´s team. (Berti is a good friend of Chancellor Kohl´s, at least Helmut says so.)
It was all that cute. Earlier that day, before leaving for the theatre, there was a collection of signatures in favour
of staying at the hotel in front of the box in order to watch the match in question. Well, the result of the poll
was nearly unamimously against "Miss Saigon" and the paper with the signatures was discretely
ushered to one of the accompanying teachers to reinforce the democratic expression of will. Oh boy, what a
scene! The greatest supporter of the German team, a true football enthusiast, was left standing there with his 30
or so signatures and that bastard of an ignorant and reluctant teacher had to face a flicker of upcoming
rebellion and disrespect. Anyway, the pack followed him sulkingly to Aldwych, placed some bets on the defeat
of the English (I don´t know if they dared to collect their winnings at the bookie´s after the
match), bought little transistor radios at a tourist junk shop near Covent Garden, had the ear plugs in during
the show and were quite nervous during the second half of the match. (The disturbance to other theatre goers -
what a trifle compared to such a decisive match.) After the show - and the German team´s victory - many
of the group slunk past disappointed England supporters in the streets as they did not want to be recognized as
Germans. Your correspondent and two ladies took a double-decker back to the hotel and passed Trafalgar
Square only minutes before drunken fanatics broke the police cordon and started the night´s clashes
there. Later, at Paddington Station tires figures, disillusioned, with crumpled "Sun"-bowlers and
rolled-in England flags, smudged in their faces, entered the last district trains westbound.
Although not being interested in soccer I looked at them remorsefully. But actually, losing is part of the game,
isn´t it?
The most disgusting scene that night I had to experience at the hotel. So-called "Werder-Bremen"-
fans demonstrated that there is still some truth in the image of the "ugly German". What surprised
me most was the fact that none of the Grammar School boys who also witnessed the scene of stupidity and
inconsiderateness also left the lobby, just I did.
It was only on Friday - the day before the group left London - that the pub next to the Senator Hotel, it was just
round the corner, was entered by some German boys and girls and their middle-aged companion for a night-cap
shortly before the last-drink-orders. On entering the place we could immediately realise that it was a pity not
having gone there before (although I had passed it at least once a day and so had the others, I suppose). Live
music was played, house brewed ales were on draught and the atmosphere was extremely inviting. It was a
most pleasant conclusion of an evening that started at Covent Garden and was supposed to be a nice and easy
last night out - unfortunately it was so crowded there that the group got split directly after getting off the bus.
Getting drinks was hardly possible because of the loads of people everywhere, and some of the lads had to face
the fact that some premises are out of bounds to German blokes that dare enter a bar without wearing decent
jackets or blazers - anoraks prohibited, keep out.
Talking about nights out in London - of course, Soho is a must. I knew that some of the students were
interested in Jazz, so I invited them to accompany me to Ronnie Scott´s Club. It turned out to be a
gorgeous evening in any respect - totally wicked. The club, distinguished as always, Ronnie Scott himself
sneaky, witty, sarcastic as usual, about the Disco at Ronnie´s Upstairs the kids were enthusiastic, the
rides home to the hotel, a bit unexpected, a bit adventurous, perhaps a bit thrilling, but we got back safe in the
end. The two black boys who took us home in their private cars, well, yes, I suppose, illegally declared as cabs
in order to make some dough - I only became fully aware as they used side streets avoiding Marylebone Rd. and
Oxford Street. We paid them more than they asked - perhaps because it was such a special night - and they
drove off a bit puzzled. A strange encounter it was and I was relieved to have us all back safely.
There is a lot more to tell but I leave it to everybody´s memory to recall scenes and images and
impressions. To your correspondent the 1996 London trip will remain a most pleasant tour, a somewhat
"magical mystery" tour, and I pay a special tribute to Horst and the geography and English
"power courses". Thanks to everybody that have made this London excursion an unforgettable
experience.
Yours Jack Pity
PS: Für alle, die vorgeben, den vorliegenden Text nicht oder nicht im Ganzen zu verstehen, bitte ich, sich
zwecks Übersetzung, Erläuterung oder Hinzufügung an Mitglieder der ehemaligen Kurse
EKL1 oder EL2 zu wenden. Alle, die dabei waren, werden sich gerne an die Tage in London erinnern und ihre
ganz persönlichen Erlebnisse zu diesem Feature beisteuern. Danke auch an Paul für die perfekte
Organisation der Studienreise.
