He was telling us about a recent visit for a conference to Germany. With another Irishman, a Finn, a German and two Canadians he worked for a few days at a small hotel near Celle, half an hour from Hanover. Until a couple of years ago the hotel had been a farm, but, after eight generations, the daughter of the household had - with much soul-searching - decided that farming, even with the benefits of the Common Agricultural Policy, was no longer a sustainable activity.
But she made a great hotel-keeper - freshly squeezed orange juice and bread fresh from the oven for breakfast, home-made cakes at coffee and tea-time. Anxious to work off the effects of all the substantial German food at supper (pork knuckle, sauerkraut and boiled potatoes), they decided to walk each evening into Celle and back again. The walk into the town along a tarmacadamed cycle-way was long enough - two miles each way - especially in the cutting sub-zero winds of the north German plain. Not outstandingly beautiful, but fresh enough away from the road and with a nice stretch alongside the river Aller.
As they returned late at night, after a couple of relaxing beers, one of the Canadians remarked that back home such country walks hardly exist. The car rules supreme, and land is so plentiful that the provision of paths is seen as of little value. Anyway, he said, street lighting would be regarded as essential to prevent litigation if anyone fell. This path, however, had no lighting and the first night there was no moon but the stars were brilliantly clear overhead. Clearer, he thought, than ever seen at home. ("What is the stars, Joxer?")
The Canadians were astonished that the Irish found the temperature (minus 3C) so cold. This, they said, was balmy weather. But then they had come well prepared with several layers of specialised clothing.
Many years ago the picture-book, 17th century town of Celle was given a choice: did the citizens want to have a university or a prison? The worthy burghers, says our friend, opted for the latter, presumably on the grounds that prisoners were a good deal less dangerous than students.