Detective Butter, Voice of America Freudian Hallenbad, Se non é vero, é ben trovato
Seasonings, Wanderwoche Math - You get what it weighs, Jazz BandOchsenwirt
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Seasonings: Soup-Sweeteners and Dessert-Salters (1957)
 The refectory was usually brimming with voices long before the dorm masters came in. They came in last because they always had to drive a few late-comers out of the dorms, across the small park leading to the refectory and through the entrance door like shepherds direct their sheep. On occasion this gave the early birds enough time to indulge in mischievous pranks. One day the brilliant idea was conceived, and executed swiftly, to put oodles of sugar into all the steaming soup tureens and fistfuls of salt into the bowls containing apple compote. Whereupon the next day, our very much feared Latin professor, headmaster Krischan, appeared on the podium, unleashing not only his poodle but also a tirade worthy of a Roman senator, condemning the "Suppenversüßer" and "Kompottversalzer", culminating in an order for the culprits to step forward.
Since nobody did, a collective punishment for all was imposed. - - - No sorties for a whole month! |
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Wanderwoche – Hiking Week (1958)
 This was the crown of the school year – one week of Robinson Crusoe, Winnetou, Treasure Island, briefly one week "in the wild" with Dr. Günter Lang, our dorm master (we shall hence use just "master"). The British army tents that were generously lent us by one of the many army surplus stores that had sprung up since the departure of the occupation forces in 1955, were so heavy that two boys at a time had to carry a tent hung on a beam lodged on their shoulders, like two oxen. Through some twist of fate, the hiking week often coincided with missed May storms, doing their thing in June. Life in the army must have been heaven compared to our experiences. Lucky were the three goody model pupils who were allowed to share the tent with the master. He had always extra and special supplies, such as a Swiss Army knife and - - - Frankfurter sausages. Imagine this idyll: we are putting up the heavy military tents in pouring rain, drying off inside, ripping into pieces and distributing among tent mates a wet loaf of bread, curling into a blanket and peaking out the front opening to see the following scene: outside the master's tent is a camp fire and a frying pan with "his" Frankfurter sausages. On occasion, his hand ventures outside to turn them. They smell delicious. Lo and behold – out of the bushes dashes a German Shepherd, skilfully snaps up the string of sausages and disappears into the wild.
To add injury to insult, during the rainy night they discovered their tent was sitting on an ant hill - and had to dismantle and move it! | |
Freudian Hallenbad, Se non é vero, é ben trovato
Seasonings, Wanderwoche
Math - You get what it weighs, Jazz BandOchsenwirt
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