An Ambassador takes to the road

By Peter Fischer

Economics Counsellor at the Embassy from 1998-2001

I spent the beginning of this millennium touring Great Britain with Ambassador Hans-Friedrich von Ploetz. From Cardiff to Ipswich, Plymouth to Glasgow, Portsmouth  to Middlesborough: There wasn't a region or a major city that we didn't visit. The mission was to find out exactly what was the state of British-German relations - "on the ground" as it were – and to get young Britons interested in Germany and its language, wherever possible, through practical steps. In the Ambassador's words:

"We have to work hard like miners, and every now and then we will be rewarded by pulling out a gold nugget."

The Ambassador met thousands of "ordinary" Britons at countless schools, colleges and universities, businesses, local and regional assemblies and governments. Everywhere we received the most cordial welcome and learned that there is a deep appreciation of how close Britain and Germany have grown and how important they are to each other. What a great way to see the beauty of British landscapes and towns, to enjoy the generous hospitality of its people and to cherish the sincere kindness and friendship we encountered without exception, no matter where we turned up. Looking back, next to the serious issues there seem to have been some recurring subjects, that the reader may be familiar with.

The Beautiful Game

The Ambassador met with Liverpudlian 6th formers studying German. But this was an unusual meeting. It took place at Anfield, legendary home of Liverpool FC, and the Ambassador was joined by Markus Babbel, one of three German national players in the Liverpool side at that time.

The 6th formers politely filed into the room. Looking prim and proper in their uniforms they took their seats. Liverpool's PR Manager introduced the Ambassador and Markus Babbel. He went to some lengths to explain that it was an honour to have the Ambassador as a guest at Anfield and that the point of the meeting was to discuss the value of learning foreign languages as well as understanding other cultures. Then he asked the Ambassador and Markus Babbel to speak to the students. Both said nice things about speaking languages and cross cultural communication.

The floor was opened to questions. The first student shyly raised his hand: "My question is for Markus, What are the strengths of Liverpool's defence compared to Man U?" Markus Babbel gave an eloquent and interesting answer.

The second question came from the floor: "I also have a question to Markus: Who would you say has the edge to win the premiership this year?". Of course, Markus had an opinion on this. The third question also went to Markus. So did the fourth, and the fifth, the sixth and the seventh.

The PR manager sensed a diplomatic problem and intervened: "Now really young people, please let me remind you that today you have the exceptional opportunity of putting a question to the German Ambassador!" The students went into a state of deep thought and reflection for what seemed like a very long minute, apparently preparing a question based on their lessons at school.

Finally one mustered up his courage: "Yes, I have a question for the Ambassador. What in your opinion is the distinctive difference between German and English football?!"

Later as reported in the Liverpool Echo, the Ambassador was able to give the 6th formers the hard sell on his favourite topic the need to learn languages: "If you can speak French and German you will double your salary and walk into any job you want.... It is vitally important you learn these languages now!"

Humour

John Unwin was the Ambassador's driver for years. Like Ezio, the butler of the Ambassador's Residence, he was familiar with whole generations of German diplomats. John was 150% reliable and the perfect gentleman. Always on time, the car ready in an impeccable condition 15 minutes before "take-off". He steered his car safely and with perfect smoothness, leaving the Ambassador at his destination right on time, not a minute too late, but not a minute too early either. At the same time John was a marvel of sensitivity, politeness, and discretion. But John was also a real South Londoner with a finely honed, dry sense of humour and never at a loss for words.

Driving along in the the country, in the middle of nowhere, the Ambassador asked:

Amb: John?

John: Yes Sir?

Amb: Bored?

John: No more than usual, Sir

And another time:

Amb: John, did you know that Secretary of State **** and I are going to open a shopping centre together in his constituency later today?

John: Sounds like the kiss of death, sir.

Amb (somewhat alarmed): What, for me, or for the Secretary of State?

John: For the shopping centre, Sir.

The  Weather

The Ambassador was invited to  commemorate the 60th anniversary of the bombing of Plymouth. The Lord Mayor kindly offered his official residence to spend the night. This had formerly been the home of Lady Astor who bequeathed it to the city. The Lord Lieutenant and his wife were also staying there. The main ceremony was a dignified and moving event at Plymouth cathedral. John parked the car with the German colours prominently displayed in the assigned spot, smack in front of the Cathedral, and could hardly save himself from passers-by who extolled to him the virtues and the importance of the friendship that had grown between Britain and Germany since the war.

The night before the official event at the Cathedral a group of citizens had arranged a ceremony in the ruins of a church that had burned to the ground during that one terrible night of bombing. There were several hundred guests. The programme included music, citizens and veterans recalling their experiences from the war, children forming their wishes for a peaceful future, as well as speeches and prayers offered by the Lord Mayor and the German Ambassador. A storm warning had been issued for that night, but in the best British tradition, the organisers acted with typically stoic indifference towards the weather.

The temperature started to drop, and the stiff breeze made it feel infinitely colder. The evening sky turned a sinister black. But we all pretended that the weather was just fine. By the beginning of the ceremony icy gusts of wind swept through the cathedral ruins. The skies opened and freezing  rain poured down. Hair and clothes were soaked, teeth began chattering, skin turned blue. But no-one let on that anything was amiss. We behaved as if  the weather was the last thing on our minds. Ladies hats lost their shape, water splashed down from the caps of the uniformed men, everyone stood in giant puddles, but the ceremony continued. The microphones failed, and we couldn't hear the music, or the veterans, or the children in their shorts. But everyone stuck to form and together saw the ceremony through to the end.

Afterwards the Lord Mayor, the Lord Lieutenant and the German guests hurried into the Lord Mayor's official limousine. Mercifully, the driver had kept the heat on. After a few minutes of silence during which everyone was thawing the Lord Mayor said: "I think that when we get back to the house, we shall have a glass of whisky". Silence: everyone was still frozen….then, after a brief delay, from the back of the car came the voice of the Lord Lieutenant, in that unmistakeable tone of English nobility: "I think maybe two….."

Class Acts

The Ambassador, having received the "Freedom of the City Of London", was elevated to a Freeman of the City of London, which included two extraordinary privileges: First, in case you are to be hanged you may choose silk or rope for your noose, and second, you have the right to drive your sheep across London Bridge. In conversation with a peer the two quickly agreed that they both had the right to choose silk. The Ambassador added: "But as a freeman, I have an additional privilege. I am entitled to drive my sheep across London Bridge." His Lordship was unimpressed: "Ah well, you see my dear Ambassador, a Lord would never do that. He would send one of his staff."

A Pint or Two

We arrived in Newcastle upon Tyne in the evening and stopped by a pub. "What shall we drink?": the Ambassador wanted to know. Newcastle Brown, of course, this was the renowned local beer beloved of students. But the Landlord wouldn't have it: "Sorry, we don't do Newcastle Brown; Fosters or Heineken?" The next day the Lord Mayor offered lunch, and there was wine on the table. When the Ambassador told of the previous night's experience, the Lord Mayor took immediate action: "Take away this wine", he instructed the service, "and bring my special bottle for everyone". Moments later every guest was served Newcastle Brown from bottles decorated with a photo of the Lord Mayor in full regalia. This was the "Lord Mayor's Special Edition", and everyone seemed relieved to enjoy a fresh brew rather than the more formal wine. For the rest of our stay, we always found a plentiful stock of "The Lord Mayor's Special Edition" in our mini-bars.

Leeds has one of the most lively and rewarding twinning links with Dortmund, a city with a great brewing tradition. The Lord Mayor of Leeds marvelled at his experience in Dortmund: "I attended the beer festival there. Amazing! 100 000 people in the city square, all enjoying their beer, and not the slightest disturbance or problem. I came back and wanted to do the same thing here, but the police told me: "Are you mad? That is completely out of the question!", and if that's what the police say, there is nothing the Lord Mayor can do about it".

Enlarge image Essential personnel: John Unwin, right, with his successor as ambassador's driver James Vowls, and Ezio Ladonna head of the Residence house staff.