The Germans know how to pack!

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Oh yes. We were discussing the fellow guests at our holiday “resort” on the drive back from Assisi today and one easy fact to observe is how well prepared the Germans are.

We have seen two such families so far. The first arrived in a stretched VW van from Stuttgart. This was parents, three kids and a Newfoundland dog the size of a small horse. As if this was not enough they had also packed an entire barbecue set as well as more holiday sports kit than Decathlon. The dog alone would have filled the entire luggage compartment of our Volvo.

The trip down here was peanuts to him. In his job, apparently, he thinks nothing of driving 1,000km to work, doing whatever he does (exhibitions perhaps) and then driving 1,000km back home again. I shall not complain about the 1,500km trip home. I shall just pretend to be German.

The second family of whom we know a lot less as they are not as chatty as the Stuttgarts moved into our previous apartment. We thought it was a little small, one bedroom plus a sofabed in the lounge area, tiny bathroom. This group, let’s call them the Brandt family, consists of Frau und Herr Brandt, not small people, plus what must be son and daughter both large kids of at least 16 years old probably closer to 20.

Their strategy it seems is to extend the tiny apartment to include the ground outside. They have offloaded a garden furniture set they brought with them and which acts as an al fresco lounge. I have yet to see a tent but I’m sure they have one. The TV now faces out through the front door and they watch it from the garden. I sense another German barbecue is about to make an appearance. EDIT – the kids have disappeared! Call the police. I said “Morgen!” this morning in an attempt to get the truth about what they did with the kids. All I got was “Do you speak German?” (in German) to which I replied “A little” (in German). Must try harder.

Top marks to the Germans. “We’re going to Italy kids. Help dad load the house into the back of the Audi!”.

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Other guests, all nice people must be said but you have to find ways to identify them are:

The guy who looks like he should be in the RAF and almost certainly lives in Surrey or Berks but actually might be a kind of Dyson type engineer / inventor and did some marketing and sold millions. But they seem kind of miserable and didn’t bother saying goodbye.

The salesman and his wife who allegedly has no neck and might have watched too much “Ab Fab”. The nicest family here. Great kids.

The “1,000 questions a minute” lady from Essex or Kent who came on the train with the invisible husband who can’t get a word in edge ways.

The nice Italian couple we can’t talk to with their very pasta buoyant daughter who’s a great swimmer for her age but is a little sad and needs a friend.

The pregnant couple who took the apartment from the Honeymoon couple who seemed to leave quickly. EDIT – now known to come from Treviso near Venice but hava nota so gooda the English.

The lady with the strange tattoo who seems a bit annoyed with her husband who smiles a lot while swimming wearing shades and a watch. He would probably be a bit of a cheeky chappy if not for her. EDIT – I think they like each other really, he’s just a bit shy. Now left and been replaced by the Jolly Hockey Sticks family.

Funny how these descriptions evolve and I can only imagine what they would write about us! Probably we are all completely wrong in every respect.

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