Danny finds that "The best laid plans of mice and men/Gang oft agley".
So we settled down in the Volkspark - but only for a short time. As I've mentioned before, Mary took her first steps in the playpen there. There must have been still a good deal of the former park left, for we well remember a stroll with the pram one afternoon. A riderless horse trotted past us, about twenty yards away, obviously homeward bound. A quarter-mile further on we met the disconsolate rider, plodding along after his horse, having given up the hopeless attempt to catch it. We could only sympathise, point, and say "thataways" (or whatever the equivalent might be - geradeaus ?).
Of course, we went to have a look at the Cathedral, which is just off the top end of the Hohestraße. I read that this is the largest Gothic cathedral in N.Europe, with the second-highest spires (515 ft) in the world. Although it was hit many times by bombs, those spires were, amazingly, still standing defiantly at the end - the only thing in all Cologne which had not been flattened by Bomber Command and the Mighty Eighth.
This says a lot about the medieval builders, but unfortunately they shared many of the characterstics of their modern descendents. Starting in the 13th Century, they beavered away for 200 years, then went off on a tea-break in the 15th. They were not seen again for 400 years (obviously having found a better contract) until the 19th (when that ran out ?), then they came back and finished the job.
I don't think we heard a single Mass in the Cathedral. So where did we go on Sundays ? If the Volkspark Service enclave was as large as I read (3,000 MQs), then a fair guess would be 300 RC families, but we don't remember an RC chapel on site. But of course, any RC church would do.
For those were the days of the old "Tridentine" (Latin) Mass. It didn't matter whether you were in Cologne or Casablanca, or Calcutta or Canton, or Lima or Liverpool: the moment when the priest swung on through the altar gates, handed his biretta * to the server, and launched into "Introibo ad altare Dei", you were back at home in your old parish church. In Latin, the Mass was exactly the same everywhere in the world on that particular Sunday of the year. Of course, the Sermon would be in German (or whatever).
* (No, not beretta - side arms were (usually) not worn).
And every one would have their own "Missal", which had parallel paragraphs of Latin and English for you to follow. Not that that was needed by "cradle" Catholics, who had grown up with the Old Mass from childhood - especially ex-altarboys, who had had to be aware of everything going on all the time, so that they could come in on cue. (Even today, I can rattle off the "Confiteor" with the best of them, and get all my case-endings right !)
And then in mid-September, my wife's mother fell gravely ill: she and Mary had to go back to Yorkshire. They flew Düsseldorf - Newcastle. I was left on my own in the Volkspark. At this time, our MQ came up at GK. I must have been a very busy little bee, for I packed up at the Volkspark . I must have done some sort of a march-out, made sure that the "Maggie" that took our stuff wasn't the coal-truck this time (and covered the pram properly), and said farewell to Cologne.
I marched-in at Bruton St, RAF, GK. My memory of this whole period is hazy, but I must have lived in the house (for of course, I had to give up my room in the Mess), but took my "casual meals" there.
I got to grips with the CH boiler (it was starting to get chilly now), sorted our stuff out, tidied the garden and generally had a good look at would be our home for the next two years.
Goodnight, all,
Danny42C.
Home, sweet Home !