I'm on one of my very rare visits to Pprune these days, but I've spent a great couple of hours enjoying the stories in this thread. Some memories from Gutersloh in the mid-70s:
I was a 'brat', about 19 years old, working in MTSS as a civilian (one of quite a few jobs I had while there). As a member of the Kart Club as well as working on base, I had a lot of mates who drank in the old Pigs' Bar in the NAAFI, and I used to quite regularly join them. The Pigs' Bar had been used as such by the Luftwaffe in WW2, when Gutersloh was a training base, and the furnishings and decorations - including some wonderful murals - dated from then. The place had some character, and the guys were actually quite proud of it.
During 74/75, a new NAAFI - Club 47 - was built, and eventually the time came for the Pigs' Bar to move locations. There'd been a big push to try and get the murals preserved, and the lovely old wooden booths moved over to the new place, but NAAFI resisted. It became quite contentious, and a plot was hatched to at least try and deny NAAFI the satisfaction of destroying this heritage. On the last night of the Pigs' Bar, a huge pissup was held and a great time was had by all. And, by the end of the night, pretty much everything that could be moved had disappeared. Sadly, not the murals (which NAAFI later painted over).
Of course, this didn't go down well with the station authorities, and everyone who was known to have been there was scheduled for an interview with the Stn Cdr in an attempt to intimidate people into revealing where the stuff had gone. I'd actually left before the place was disassembled, but duly took my place in the queue for the Co's bollocking. This caused some amusement and perhaps a little awe among the other villains, and did my standing no end of good among my mates. The Stn Cdr was my Dad.
I'm not sure they ever recovered the missing items!
Another - very blurry - memory was drinking whisky with Matt Munro in the Sgts Mess after a CSE show until something like 6am. We'd been having a really quite civilised conversation, but I'm pretty sure it descended into scribble as the night wore on. We parted the very best of mates, and I did hear from him afterwards. We never worked out what we'd been talking about!
I'm sure with adequate lubrication and some prompts I could dredge up a load of memories of that time - and many more from the following years as an Albert driver who frequently visited all of the RAFG stations.