‘Go East, young Man!’

At rather short notice my parents decided that I should join the 6th form of a Grammar School in Essex, ostensibly to enhance my academic chances. These were probably the worst two years of my life; absolute misery after leaving St. Michael's School, but I did manage two 'A'  levels (grades nothing to boast about though).

 After just one year of Teacher Training at St. Mark & St. John's College, Chelsea, I aborted the course having decided that teaching was definitely not for me.

 At this point I met Ingeborg (Inge) my future wife, who was spending some time in London. I followed her back to Germany and ended up spending a delightful two years in Freiburg-im-Breisgau where she was at University reading both English and French. I earned my keep working part-time in the University Library. I enjoyed my time there immensely, although I was doing little to further my long term future. I eventually returned to London to commence architectural studies at the Architectural Association, a long course which, thankfully, I completed successfully.

 Inge and I were married in 1973 and our son Henry and daughter Hannah arrived in the ensuing years. Inge taught for many years at Haberdashers Ask's Hatcham School in SE London where we lived. I worked as a salaried architect in and around London until 1991. I was made an offer I could not refuse to join a architectural and engineering company in what had been East Germany one year before. Inge and the family loyally followed a little later, rather unsure about the soundness of my decision to 'GO EAST'. Their scepticism grew by the day once they arrived. I remained stoically convinced that my decision to move to Germany was a sensible decision (.......well, I had to, didn't I?).

 Some months before finally leaving for the eastern part of reunified Germany I first of all had to go to a place called Plauen in Saxony to visit the firm's Head Office for the first time. Then on to Weimar (Thuringia) where I would eventually work. It was necessary for me to spend some quality time making arrangements for me and my family to arrive and settle in Weimar. I was given one week to arrange a teaching post for Inge, find suitable schools for the children, sort out temporary accommodation, get my architectural qualifications recognised and if that was not enough, find a suitable plot of land to build the family house. Phew!

 My experiences during that week were worthy of a Kafka scenario! The authorities I had to see were mainly housed in an ancient building with long corridors on several floors each lined on one side with chairs and all chairs occupied by patiently waiting citizens all facing a daunting row of identical doors. All the people were casually dressed. I was dressed in a business suit which made me feel a little conspicuous and out of place. "Who is this alien in our midst?" was written all over their faces.

 My employers had organised accommodation for me. There was nothing available in the town but a room had been found for me in a Hotel up on a nearby hill. It turned out to be the old Officers Mess at the former concentration camp named Buchenwald! 'A rather sinister start to my Weimer experience' I thought. The week was successful and I was able to achieve everything including the purchase of a building plot.

 The firm I joined was an organisation with approximately 150 employees which had been specialising in building industrial sheds in Russia and Siberia. The HQ was in Plauen and there was a branch office in Weimar. My life long friend, an engineer from Karlsruhe, had taken over the firm after reunification and saved the firm from certain closure. The plan was to restructure the firm as an architectural and engineering enterprise. He offered me Weimar and I found it necessary to spend some considerable time at the HQ in Plauen to acquaint myself with the firm, its procedures and its many problems.

 I spent five unforgettable months in Plauen and the time I spent there was very grim in many ways. The old GDR regime was only a year ago. Work at the offices started each day 6:15am and the journey to work was dark and extremely cold. There were few street lamps and the trams were fitted with cold fluorescent lighting. It had a strange effect on my fellow travellers making them all look ghost-like. The towns buildings had not been regularly maintained and in many cases they still showed signs of war damage on their facades. Other buildings still retained the emergency repairs made some 50 years previously.

 Having said all of this, and taking into account the strange and different ways I quickly had to become accustomed, I was well received by everyone and they all treated me very kindly, but then, after all, I was a close buddy of the Boss!

 There was a widespread sense of inferiority in the presence of Westerners and many of my work colleagues failed to understand why I found it necessary to leave London to work in, what they considered to be, a damaged environment. Indeed, there were times when I asked myself a similar question and without a doubt my family questioned my sanity when they arrived in Germany to live.

 I returned briefly to London to finalise the move and my new employers financed everything as far as the moving costs were concerned. While Inge, the children and I were waiting in the queue at Dover waiting to board the Cross Channel Ferry I happened to notice that the Pickfords Removal Truck was also waiting to board the very same Ferry and the thought briefly crossed my mind that if the Ferry capsized my entire family together with all of our worldly goods, including the family cat, would disappear at a stroke!