Page 34 - My Story

perhaps time to start “Duzing” each other (the familiar form of “you”) and using our first names – Ursula
and Ruth.

Other friends of the children were the Werner girls, Karen, already at elementary school and
Astrid and Hedda, still at Tante Henni’s Kindergarten. Their mother, Inge and I hit it off immediately and
we spent many an afternoon together at either of our homes or at playgrounds and parks. I had a car, a
small Fiat 500 wagon, called a Panorama, and we would pack the six children in with we two adults in the
front and take off. The Werner father was a doctor, an incredibly reserved man who always appeared
morose and a bit grumpy. In fact, in those days in Europe Dads were very intent on their careers and took
very little interest in the day to day happenings of the family, although Peter was often home in time to
read a bedtime story – so often Enid Blyton’s Noddy, referred to by us as Soddy little Noddy. Enid Blyton
had been a great favourite as long as we lived in England, but we found that more and more the children
wanted German Stories, Der Glückliche Löwe and Die Kleine Hexe and later I improved my German
enormously reading the Brothers Grimm in all the gory details!

Some time in those first weeks we met Elisabeth, aged thirteen, with her four-year-old brother in
a playground. She heard us speaking English and joined in, in English which she was learning at school.
She was mature and wonderful with the girls and I invited her to come and practise her English any time
and to be our babysitter occasionally, if that was OK with her parents. She was one of four siblings, I
believe the second child, tall and slender and very sensible, with a good sense of humour and we spent
many hours together, teaching each other our respective languages. Elisabeth became an English
teacher, married a Turkish architect, not a popular move as the Turks, who had been invited to Germany
as Gastarbeiter (guest workers) at a time when Germany needed manual labourers, were seen to have
“taken over the country” as is the way of people who invite immigrants and then resent them because
they are different, eventually moved to Turkey with him where they retired comfortably with a home for
winter and another for summer. Susan and Sophie recently had eleven hours in Istanbul and wrote to
Elisabeth for the best way to spend it and she sent them very detailed instructions about sites and how
to use public transport and everything they needed to know to have a very successful visit. Unfortunately,
they were not able to meet up.

In our early marriage we had a wonderful friend in England called Ludie who lived in Hampstead
Garden Suburb. She was a cousin of Ernie Morris, Auntie Anne’s husband and was a fairly frequent visitor
to my parents. She and I got on extremely well and loved to talk about the books we read. She also loved
our children although she had never married and had none of her own. When we went to Germany, I
wrote to her and told her our adventures and she kept some of my letters. These were sent back to me
by her executor when she sadly died in the early 70s. I’m going to quote from some of those letters.

“Well, we’ve had visitors from England this weekend. Jules, Ivan and Michael (he must have been about
16 then) called on their way home from Italy. Of course, it wasn’t on their way at all and they’ll be worn
out from the long journey, but it was lovely seeing them. I hope

lots and lots more people will “pop in when they’re passing” …….I feel that once people get across that
great barrier (the English Channel) they can travel anywhere in Europe.

“Certainly, we travel between Holland and here very frequently. We’re regular visitors to Arnhem for
the Sunday Times and een eis, or rather vijf eis and when we can we make a weekday trip for Lebensmittel”.

In fact, we always bought our “eis” from Onkel Willie who would speak to us in fractured English
and offer us a bite of his liver sandwich!

I later discovered a wonderful place to buy food – right on the border between Germany and the
Netherlands, which was about three kilometers from our house, enterprising storekeepers had set up
stands for food staples, so I would nip over for groceries and the freshest of fruits and vegetables and
wonderful chickens and eggs. One day, I had done my shopping and was hurrying home when out of my
rear window I saw the customs man waving wildly at me and blowing his whistle. I didn’t understand,
they never showed any interest in us, but I stopped, and he came puffing up and pointed out that I had
left a tray of eggs on the roof of my car! Bless him – what a mess that could have been.

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