Oh, What a Lovely War!

6.43 am is not a good time for keeping your head together. After helping a Canadian threesome with their three day travel pass, I left the station only to walk 15 minutes in the wrong direction. The German woman I stopped to confirm my suspicions didn't seem to know that trams existed (I needed a tram), but assured me I was going wrong. Thank you.

I am in Munich to stay with Phil and his family for a few days before more reprobates arrive from Ireland to indulge in the Oktoberfest, schoolfriends and co-workers. I am godfather to Mia, Phil's eldest daughter, and I try to get to Munich every year to see her. She is a beautiful, intelligent and charming four year old, and her young sister, Lulu, is practically her twin in all these characteristics. Needless to say then sleep was not possible on my arrival; play comparable to commando training was. Two or three hours later, when Mia was at kindergarten, and Lulu was napping, I did get to doze.

Later I offered Felicity, Phil's wife, to help with collecting Mia from kindergarten and bringing her to ballet class. When we arrived, kids were rampant in the sandpit awaiting parents. Mia wanted to introduce me to her friend, a young boy with a toy pliers. He proceeded to apply the pliers to my thumb. I think I just have the kind of face that invites children to use DIY tools on me. Before I knew it another child was drilling my stomach with a child's mock power screwdriver, while yet another approached with a wrench. I survived by fleeing for cover in the main building for a guided tour by Mia.

Getting to ballet class, what is with kids a 20 minute 2 minute walk, was similarly stressful for all concerned. The heartbreaking crime of twig stealing led to much squealing on the part of one little cherub, while other more sensible kids threatened to stop traffic. Even at ballet class that huge stilleto shoe with the "Art Object - please don't sit" sign was bound to become a popular slide, and the stairs beside it a fearful no go place. Nevertheless we made it, we lived, the apartment was reached once more. Judging by its success in this running battle (for which our earlier commando training just hadn't prepared us), ice cream should be introduced as a diplomatic tool in all international disputes. It's something to bear in mind, Israel. And may I humbly suggest chocolate flavour.

Games and play and attempts to introduce young kids to "Peter and the Wolf" took up the three hours to dinner. Phil cooked an exquisite Thai dish (and some pea falafel for starters) and now everyone is too pooped to do anything but sleep. Round the clock drinking will be a doddle on Thursday. I've had my commando training.