Munchengladback

I have been role playing in recent days.

This has entailed  putting myself in a number of different scenarios. An airport arrivals and customs area, a taxi rank, provincial railway station, on an express train, ticket barrier, curried sausage street stall, hotel foyer, subway system, concert venue and a merchandising counter.

Quite, at first glance, a strange selection but, in logical order, representing a forthcoming trip for me and The Boy to Munich to see the last date in the Final Sting Tour of The Scorpions. The who?, no, The Scorpions.

You know, think the downing of the Berlin Wall, soft focus shots, a whistled intro, melodic guitar and the strap line of "the winds of change" although confusing with a mention of Gorky Park in the lyric as well. No?, try small frazzled haired lead singer, jaunty cap, obviously European in his pronunciation of English. Still no?, I despair- where have you been! - just look them up for goodness sake. Scorpions, The; Rock band.

Founded in 1965 and with one constant band member, Rudolf Schenker , they have been pretty much prominent in rock history over the proceeding 47 years and still going strong with a homecoming gig from a very extensive World Tour. The tickets were booked way back in the early part of the year and originally for a November date but ,due to the demand of their public, a few extra venues on different continents were added and we are now doing the two day return trip just a week before Christmas. I hear the Olympiahalle is nicely trimmed up.

Me and the Boy had planned to drive the 1800 miles there and back thinking that the combination of milder weather, although still winter, and Teutonic efficiency in all things motoring would make it a pleasant and educational trip taking in the autobahns, ring roads and by-passes of some great Cities and through picturesque countryside perhaps partaking in local cuisine, or failing that, just counting on Ronald McDonald indeed having a global empire of restaurants.

However, the calculations for fuel, North Sea Ferry, food , the lack of a Sat-Nav disc for central and southern Europe and the fact that I would be the sole driver for the epic road-trip soon made the Ryanair alternative look quite attractive.

Budget flights do imply a degree of compromise and in our case this relates to having to almost parachute out over Bavaria into a local airport, some 60 miles south west of Munich.

The ongoing travel to get to our concert will involve some use of my schoolboy German. Given that my last exam at GCSE level was, I think, in the summer of 1978 I am concerned that, with the natural and fluid evolution of language I may be speaking the equivalent of a Middle Ages dialect to modern 21st century Germans.

I did opt for two languages at the age of 15 with biology being sacrificed for the sake of a workable timetable and study programme. Some aspects of human physiology are still a bit of a mystery to me, for example, I would have to make a stab in the dark on the matter of procreation.

One reason for my choice of German language was the enigma who was the Head of Department, Mr Barker or Herr Barker.

The scheduled lessons were conducted entirely in German and it was not until I collected my 'B' Grade some two years later that I heard him congratulate me in my own mother tongue. He was a short figure but he held himself very upright, shoulders back and on more than a couple of occasions I am sure that, when making an about turn on his characteristic struts up and down at the front of the classroom, he clicked his heels. Of course, he may have been simply perpetuating the myth, held by us as impressionable, stupid pubescent teenagers ,that he was either a fugitive from the war or a refugee forced to flee under the same circumstances.

If a passage in the text book dealt with a common everyday situation, such as Herr Topolski going to a bakery to buy bread then Herr Barker would become all nostalgic and avail a rather disinterested class with stories of his own experiences in Germany. The images he portrayed were ,and this is strange even thinking about them now, in black and white and it was always snowing. He must have lived there for a good proportion of his life.

We were otherwise , as a body of students, distracted by subversive browsings of New Musical Express under the desks, swapping cassettes of Dire Straits, squeezing zits or trying to catch sight through the windows of Miss Raven, the new Science Teacher who was widely held as hottest teacher on the lower school site. Worrying, because I seem to recall she was the only female member of staff in an all Boys Grammar School. Some issues being bottled up there then.

Having now conducted an audit of my language range for the forthcoming trip I have no confidence whatsoever on getting by in German.

My particular trait, annoying in the extreme to my family, for pointing at things and talking loudly does appear to be my best option to knit together the impeccably planned and timed itinerary put together by my wife.

I do know the correct names for, here we go, flughafen, taxi, bahnhof, fahrkarten, and for politeness, bitte and danke and at least two of Santa's reindeer Donner and Blitzen which I may be able to work into a seasonal conversation somewhere. It is Christmas.

I did get a credit in my Oral German (Oxford and Cambridge Board 1978) when I impressed the external examiner with my correct phonetic pronunciation of 'Fau-vay' for VW in a loosely arranged recounting of a family holiday in our parents Squareback Variant Estate.

This now faint recollection of language prowess is a definite possibility for opening up a dialogue in Germany as in "Look, a Volkswagen", or "Goodness, there are a lot of Volkswagens", or " In my country I own a Volkswagen" or "Umm, nice Volkswagen- can you give me and The Boy a lift to Munich because we have missed our connection- do you now of The Scorpions? No? . I despair again!"