Walking down Brompton Road past the Brompton Oratory towards Harrods yesterday I experience one of those moments where the past associations of a place are stronger than the present experience. This is a phenomenon I have previously experienced in relation to places where I have lived when they are revisited. I go back to Paris to the areas I once lived in and find it difficult to be there due to the weight of the ghosts of the past. I find this to be true about Berlin also, even though I only lived there for a few weeks in my youth. Here I surmise that the weight of the pre-fall of the wall lived life just submerges the present, making it trivial in comparison. Experiencing this ghost feeling on Brompton Road was odd. After all, I still live in London and am still accumulating experiences here. My conclusion is that the older you get the more difficult it is to give weight to the present. The monster of the past becomes ever more voracious. The challenge to keep the present alive becomes ever more demanding.

http://www.peolearerubbich.com

“To think we buy cloaks lined with ermine

For folk that can’t or won’t determine

What’s best to rid us of our vermine…”

It’s the ‘Pied Piper of Hamlin’ by Robert Browning and I could go on, having memorised much of ist charming rhymes as a child. The story of a piper who rids a town of its rat infestation, only to be cheated of his reward and so takes vengeance by ridding the town of its children. From Hanover, where we were staying, Hamlin is a simple hop on the train, about 20 miles. It turns out that the legend may very well be based on 13th Century history where swathes of young people were lured away from this area of Northern Germany to work in newly acquired territory to the East by honey-tongued work agents.

We went vainly round looking for remnants of the legend but were unable to find even a decent statue of the piper to be photographed next to. Of all the cities and towns we have visited on this trip (many) Hamlin, or Hameln as it is in German, is the dud. The whole town has been set up to respond to its 4 million a year tourists but no real traces of the story are celebrated in the public art. The only statue of the piper depicts him as an innocent-looking adolescent, as if the sinister nature of the legendary figure has to be bowdlerised to disnify the tale for the modern tourism industry. As in the legend the town corporation has again swindled the piper of his worth.

“A thousand gulders! The mayor looked blue.

So did the corporation too!”

But the town continues to exploit the legend. This year they are preparing a production of ‘Robin Hood’ at the local theatre, no doubt re-using the Medieval costumes so often deployed in pied piper pageants. A nice little earner for the mayor and corporation.

http://www.peoplearerubbish.com

This year’s summer trip took us to Northern Germany, having no desire to endure the Great Heat of the South. In Hamburg and Luebeck we stayed in youth hostels. Youth hostels these days are strange time warps where nuclear families wear NASA tee-shirts and the bright primary colours and bold geometric shapes popular in 1970s clothing. In Luebeck we witnessed an odd involuntary social experiment where the youth hostel was peopled by two main groups: a set of French children from a small town in France that was twinned with Luebeck and on a summer trip there, as well as a large group of adults with learning difficulties on their summer outing. Mixing with the peculiar group that is the youth hostel habitues, this was at times a fascinating and challenging intersection of skills and cultures.

The big bright Venn diagram seemed to function smoothly enough. There was no evidence of any problems. The learning difficulty adults were innocent and sociable; the French schoolchildren respectful and interested in their own little world. The youth hostelers kept their distance, lining up at the tables near the window in a huddled group.

Coming back from a day in the Old Town we saw one of the school children crying and one of the learning difficulty adults being hugged by a group leader and carer. No connection. Just two little dramas. The usual trials and tribulations in the lives of people. Just a a bit more expressive than we youth hostelers. In the end everyone was having a mostly lovely time.

http://www.peoplearerubbish.com.