The day I was almost shot.
This month reminds me that I got invited to the Munich beer festival one year when I was on tour in Germany.
The Oktoberfest in Munich is seen to some people as a great social event; I am not one of those people. I am not against drinking beer, I wish I could at times, but my system won't allow the pleasure, not that I was a heavy drinker before I went to Germany.
You see the buxom maids taking vast mugs of beer around, what you don't realize is that over half of the jug is just foam. Serving beer like that in the UK would put the brewery out of business very quickly, not to mention risk serious harm to the bar staff for serving so little beer.
I have been to Munich. I went to see the 1978 European Cup final when Nottingham Forrest beat Malmo. Being almost shot by a German guard is my main memory of the day.
The concept of the attack is more than laughable looking back at what happened. I was standing behind a waist-high wall on a two-meter bank of mud. To get to the pitch, I would have needed to drop over the wall, cross a four-meter ditch, climb back up another mud bank of three-meters and then run 20 feet to the pitch. Who did the guard think I was? John Rambo?
If I had a wish to return to Germany, it would be to see the Wagner Ring Cycle in Bayreuth, but in my opinion there hasn't been a good rendition since the Pierre Boulez 1979-80 version.