Gonzo seventies

I wouldn't go quite that far... Although the seventies started with a lot that was borderline insane.

For me it was the beginning of my involvement with Germany, it was in Hamburg that I read Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas and immediately understood its importance as a turning point in journalism.

Then during the following summer I used to take my transistor radio to the beach to listen to live coverage of the Watergate Trial.

If that wasn't insane enough, I only had to consider the job I was holding down which allowed me to bugger off to the beach early in the afternoon. My German was almost non-existent, but the proprietor of a B&B called Cliffs Herberge on the island of Sylt, famous for its jet-set lifestyle, thought that a British 'breakfast butler' would be appropriate for the establishment. And so my shift started very early but ended at lunch time, in time to spend time at the beach where the dress code was all-over-tan plus Rolex.

It was a rather exclusive B&B, only twelve rooms and a rate of 600 Euros per night (adjusted for average income progression; it was 300 Deutschmarks back then)! Comte Frédéric Chandon de Briailles regularly held his summer party in the grounds of the B&B (Although there was never a sign of a Monsieur Moet!) All in all, there was enough insanity of all kinds to kick off an interesting decade, for me the ten years between my marriages.