 For reasons best known to my childlike-brain I slept under a Union Jack for a time when I was a kid. Not as a duvet you understand, but pinned to my ceiling in a nascent show of nationalism.
Hand stitched, over two metres long and nearly a metre wide I thought it was cool. Cool that is, until it fell on top of me one night showering me in dead flies and convincing me Winston Churchill was trying to smother me to death.
Germans have had a similar love/hate relationship with their national flag over the years. It is now illegal to display Nazi memorabilia including the swastika, and quite bloody right to.
But the black, red and gold number from the 19th century which was re-adopted by the West German state after the war has never been waved as proudly as it might have been.
Not until now that is, as a strange feeling is beginning to gather pace here; a feeling that it’s actually ok to love your country and its flag.
All this was explained in great detail to me by a very drunk bloke called Markus, who works for a drilling company.
In a rare moment of sobriety at the hotel bar the other night he was sufficiently lucid for long enough to inform me that the tricolour dates back to the foundation of the modern German state in the 1870’s. The black stands for Prussia, the red for Austria and the gold for all the smaller states apparently.
Despite having nothing to do with National Socialism, Germans have been reluctant to wave their flag too much; mindful of the time (all be it with a different one) their ancestors did so. Likewise, the singing of the national anthem Deutschland Uber Alles has always been a reserved affair.
But after a few more beers (and some tequila which I don’t even like) he said that his fellow countrymen were gradually beginning to accept that it was now ok again. They were even draping the flag on their houses and putting it on the windows of their cars (where they will fall off and litter the motorway like ours no doubt).
As if to consolidate this newfound bonhomie, Markus then produced from his bag a World Cup t-shirt that bore the legend “World Cup 2006 – A Time To Make Friends” and insisted I had it. If only for the fact that it would probably end in immediate divorce, I would be sleeping under a German flag when I got home….
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