Military, Family, Royalty and Buffoonery.

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My 'little' brother wears green clothes for a living and recently spent six months in the middle of nowhere, out in somewhere quite sandy. To mark his return in rude health, his bosses decided that he and his friends needed to have things pinned on their jacket pockets by someone who was born into a superior position and whom we all honour and respect. Very much.

Thankfully, he and his family are posted to Germany, 90 minutes from Kassel, and this meant that I was able to go and mark the occasion. Louisa, Mog and the biggest brother flew over, too, so picked them up from the airport and deposited us all in Herford.

I'd been up to see Nick et al a few times, and the kids are very familiar. Uncles are ostensibly there for niece and nephew amusement, it would appear. When said chiddlers are, er, about four and seven, entertaining them seems to be to do whatever they tell you. 'Chase me round the garden...bounce with us on the trampoline...blow raspberries on my belly...let me lick your teeth...carry me on your shoulders...lick my head as if you were a dog...cuddle me...carry me...find me when I'm hiding...carry this...don't eat my food...chase me...don't go home'. Uncles are at the beck and call of little people, and who am I to interrupt the natural order of things? I tell you, I was exhausted at the end of three days of this.

In between uncle duties, I also managed to consume copious cups of tea, a substantial amount of beer, roast chicken, bread rolls with jams and cheeses and meats, a large plate of ice cream, an Army curry, and a sizeable portion of meatballs and potatoes. There were also the small matters of attending a parade and mercilessly teasing any family members who deserved it. And that's all of them....

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