Hermannsburg to Soltau

If I couldn’t “read” Hermannsburg, then Munster was even odder. I discovered yesterday that I was confusing it with the Anabaptists’ Münster. That sorted out, I was then confused by the map: here was a small centre surrounded by lots of main roads. There was no off-road riding along sandy paths (no problems with that – I am heartily sick of them), but the route was nearly all beside those main roads. What was going on?

I’ve now found out. Basically there’s an enormous garrison outside. Those main roads are fit for tanks, the heath is off-limits, and the cycle-path tarmac is a dream. The tiny town of Munster – with its minimal sights dreaming of its bucolic past – is literally surrounded.


Sheep-herding in Munster

And now Soltau. The last time we were here we stayed slightly outside the town, so I had no recollection of passing through. This time we are in the centre; I may as well be in Bletchley, so charmless is it.


About aides mémoires

This is a chronological list of things I have seen, places I have visited, and thoughts that have wandered through the space between my ears. A reading group of one; an art appreciation society limited by my preferences and prejudices; opera criticism by one who knows nothing about the subject.
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