Bierkellar Wolf

Stepping off the train into spring sunshine on the platform at Dietikon. It is Switzerland. It couldn't be anywhere else. I passed through Altstetten where I shared an office with Robi. The years have passed but it still has that feeling of home. For two years it was. The big guy met me on the platform, car waiting ready to head home for aperitifs and start to catchup on how life is treating us.

The next surprise is Flo'. I first met him when he was 3 years old. A nice little boy. Now at 18 he towers above me, speaks nice English. The nice little boy turned into a really nice young man along the way. Did I miss that? I don't seem to have noticed the transition.

Friday morning hiking in the Jura and then on to an open air spa to swim and relax. I speak as much German as I can manage, and that is little, but at least I have my confidence to try. Speaking German and swimming in the March sunshine I feel along way from the Englishman I am most of the time.

Robi, Florian and catch the evening train. We have beers to share. The Wolf kellar isn't Swiss. It's a Bavarian import, but great fun. We purchase a metre of ale. 9 big ones, and get stuck in. As our beer mugs clank "Proust" I cannot help smiling at Florian. It is so good that he wants to drink beer with his dad and I. We part company easily as he heads off to get together with people his own age, leaving his father and I to misbehave and get very loud indeed. The German drinking songs I know well. Funny where the language is easily remembered isn't it.

Robi and I took our sore heads off to the Rhein falls. It's colder today, and set to get colder. A slower, calmer, more reflective day with an old friend who helps me to have ideas. Some people are like that. There is nothing new under the sun, and most fresh ideas are a synthesis built on what has gone before. Tired from playing hard I waved auf weidersehn to Robi and family and started the night journey home. News of snow in the UK is not welcome, but at least I am prepared for it...........