Cheers for Charles, lederhosen for Archie and boogying for a united Europe. Oh what a panto!

Here's what I missed....

 And here's what I saw: The Typical Bavarian on his soap box.  I'd just saved myself 50 cents by using the Hofbräuhaus' free loos, so I drop it into the chap's cap.  

'Measse vuimois,' says Prince Charles in faultless Bavarian. Then, switching to English, he adds: 'I had one of these as a boy.'

Der ewige Thronfolger – the eternal heir, as he’s known in Germany – has just been presented with a lederhosen by Markus Söder, Minister President of Bavaria. Just one teeny-weeny problem – it's about 30 sizes too small.

Suddenly, TV newsfeed of Charles and Camilla races from Residenz to Hofbräuhaus. The commentator reveals that the lederhosen is for the Prince's three-day old grandchild. What with proud parents Harry and Meghan parading the Wunderkind around Buckingham Palace and the announcement that Number Seven in line to throne's called Archie, it's been a right royal day.

Determined to catch up with Charles on his day trip to Munich, I'd stuffed a Union Jack into my bag and alerted my students that afternoon class would be finishing a couple minutes earlier – just in case anybody wishes to come along too. I'm not too sure they do. 'You're really going?' one undergrad asks disbelievingly.

If I leave uni at 3:15, I can just about make it to the Hofbräuhaus in time to cheerily wave my flag at the royal couple. Perhaps they'll even autograph it. Done deal.

What a disappointment then to arrive at the beer house to see large numbers of Polizisten in bullet-proof vests already packing away security cordon and climbing back into their vans. I'd missed the Royals by just seven minutes.

It turns out that the Windsors are already on their way to the headquarters of Siemens. It's fast approaching 4 pm, rush hour time in Munich. Surely I can beat their convoy of limousines by jumping onto public transport?

It helps if you can actually read a U-Bahn plan. I end up taking the right underground line but in the wrong direction. By the time I reach Siemens it's just turning 5 pm. But it's the wrong Siemens. Eyeing me distastefully, staff at the welcome desk have an unwelcome message: 'Sie san do foisch.'

No wonder I'm wrong – everyone milling around me is dressed in suits. Me, just in shorts and sandals. For a split second it looks like the receptionist is about to reach below her desk. Presumably to hit a panic button and summon security guards to guide me off the premises. Any moment I'm expecting swarms of officials in dayglo vests to surround me, picking up commands on their ear-pieces and shouting fever-pitch commentaries down their mobiles. Instead, the reception girl calmly walks me out into the foyer and directs me down the street to Siemens Forum.

This time I think twice about entering. Stopping the first group of dirndl-dressed employees to come out of the building, I discover that Charles and Camilla took off 45 minutes ago. In the short time it's taken me to ride several stops on the subway, the royal party has made it across town at peak traffic time, toured Siemens Forum and checked into their penthouse suite at the Bayrischer Hof. 'Herzlichen Beileid' says one of the Siemens secretaries as I turn to go.

'Herzlichen Beileid?' Isn't that what you normally say in hushed tones to the bereaved? Perhaps I really should be mourning. After chasing Charles around Munich all afternoon I’ve twice missed him almost within a hair's breadth.

Heading back into the town centre, I stop off at the Residenz. That's where the royal couple walked the red carpet just a few hours earlier. Asking around, I learn that Charles passed right under the statue of König Maximilian Joseph. Squinting up through the sunshine, I spot two pigeons doing a jig on Max's ears, before snapping their beaks and flying off, leaving a trail of bird paint dripping down His Royal Highness' majestic forehead.

                                         

Ah well, let's face it. That's probably about as close as I'm going to get to any royalty today. 

Luckily the day's not completely over. Today, it turns out, is Europe Day. The Bavarian Staatskanzlei, or Department of State, is staging a series of shows at the Marienplatz. Peppered all around the main Platz are little huts with stalls encouraging Münchners to vote at the forthcoming Europawahl. Truth told, I'd spared these elections precious little thought. Not unlike most other Brits who clearly regard the whole thing as a bad dream. But spotting a photo booth offering free selfies with a EU star-studded backdrop immediately converts me to the cause. Next moment I’m being photographed in front of a banner proclaiming ‘Diesmal wähle ich!’ – this time I’m voting. 

Can't beat 'em, join ‘em. Count me in.

                                            

Meanwhile Ecco DiLorenzo Smart & Soul are playing a soulful mix of seventies, Chic-style disco. Just the right thing. Earlier, during harmonies from the Deutsch-Französischer Chor, I'd been laying back, luxuriating in one of the cosy deckchairs. But, as soon as I hear the opening chords to 'Le Freak', I leap up and join a handful of other revellers bopping up and down near the stage. Waving arms and legs around almost hypnotically, more Kate Bush than Beyoncé, we must appear quite comical to the rest of the audience, all superglued to their deckchairs. The sun's still shining as, just before 8 pm, the band breaks into its farewell offering – 'At the Carwash'.

At the Carwash? Yes, I know the Germans love their autos and all that, but it seems a funny choice of song title. Aren't they supposed to be encouraging everyone to abandon polishing their dreams on wheels on 26 May and get along to the polling booths instead?

But maybe that's not the point. What strikes me, boogying and bumping to Rose Royce, is that I'm surrounded by a mass of merrymakers of all ages and mixed European backgrounds – grooving together as one. Solid supporters of a United Europe. And just luurving the moment.

Heaven knows what the Herren from The Bavarian Staatskanzlei make of our trance-like motions, but I hope they approve of our symbolic show of solidarity on the dance floor. Prince Charles certainly would.

Why do I have to mispronounce my name to make myself understood?

Sinking? Thinking? With Germans you can never be too sure......

There are so many things I love about living in Bavaria: The extremes in climate (ice-cold winters, sizzling-hot summers), lovely clean public swimming pools everywhere, and some of the best bread in the world. Not forgetting of course the local brew. Considering about half of Germany’s 1250 breweries are here in Bavaria it’s not surprising that most of the local festivities are beer driven. Last year I finally went “native”, dressing up in Lederhosen and dancing on beer tables with the Bürgermeister. It felt great. I even began liking niederbayrisch, even though I find this local dialect mostly incomprehensible.

Moving to Germany over 13 years ago I was scared stiff of those big black Audis which creep up on you on the Autobahn, headlights flashing furiously, forcing you to pull over into the slow lane. Worse still when I accidentally threw an old hairdryer into normal rubbish, a neighbour saw this and reported me to the police. I’ve since learnt to live with impatient motorists and intruding neighbours. But one thing I will NEVER get used to is how Germans misuse and mispronounce English words in their own language. And how I have to mispronounce them too in order to be understood.

 

Just look how German is flooded with English words in advertising: “Get the London Look!” (Rimmel), “Drive alive!” (Mitsubishi) or Douglas’ confusing invitation “Come in and find out!” Smooth, smart slogans - and all totally meaningless.

 
Advertisers please note there is a London Eye but no London Look, that being alive is an absolute minimum requirement for driving a car, and “come in and find out” sounds more like a challenge to find the shop exit.

Teachers are forever reminding pupils that “Handy” (mispronounced “hendy”!) is a mobile phone in British English. Maybe we should also explain that this word is used by native speakers only as an adjective, to mean "helpful" or "useful". 

Mispronunciation, if you're not careful, can be a matter of life and death, as highlighted  by language trainers Berlitz in a popular advert. “We’re sinking!” - a ship’s Mayday call to German coastguards - is tragically misunderstood as the officer enquires “Oh ja, and vot are you sinking about?”

Hearing so much English mispronounced is slowly “germanising” my own English too. I recently phoned the cinema to ask for times of Woody Allen’s “From Rome with Love” (pronounced by young Germans as “luff”, and the older generation as “low-ver”) Asking about this “Vooty Ellen luff-feelm” made me feel foolish but at least we understood each other.

But nothing makes me feel sillier than having to mispronounce my OWN surname, Howe, as “How-ver”.

This helps prevent people spelling it “Hau”, “Hovi” or “Howi”.

To be on the safe side I would spell it out too. All four letters: “Ha-O-Vee-Ay”. Until I found it simpler just to pronounce it correctly, referring to another oft-used English word in German – “Know-how”.

When it came to setting up my own language service I didn’t need to think too long about what to call it: Know Howe for English.