And you thought BMW stood for Bayerische Motoren Werke AG?

No – I can reveal today, BMW stands for Bulldogge Mit Wespen (im maul – for the full version) – a Bulldog with wasps in his/her mouth

I owe this lively (nay, alarming) image to a former colleague who had an endearing way with words (another fave being “I wouldn’t send that fellow to the Post Office to buy a stamp!” – a damning vote of no confidence if ever there was one).

Back to BMW: it describes an attitude I have discovered on this trip. Consider it one notch even worse than encountering “a filthy” (which of course is itself one notch worse than “a dirty look”. Readers of Ross will understand.)

Consider the evidence:

1. “Park your bike in the proper place”

I had cycled 38k without stopping and felt a coffee and pastry was in order. As my route was taking me mainly through country roads, I was delighted to find a large cafe/restaurant at a marina on the Rhine. There was a huge dining area outside in addition to the large interior. It was altogether empty.

I enquired if they were open and serving coffee. BMW! The waiter stared at me, said “Jah”, but quickly followed by telling me to remove my bike and park it in the proper place (about 300m away). (Sound of teeth grinding)

2. “The kitchen closed at 8pm”

Another hotel with a restaurant advertised, which turned out to be closed for the evening. I welcomed the opportunity to stretch my legs and to locate a restaurant recommended by the helpful receptionist – a micro brewery with pub grub. I found it by 7pm (important fact)

After a tasty starter and an excellent rack of bbq pork ribs, I struggled to catch the attention of the waitress. I was looking forward to some Apfelstrudel and ice cream. After two failed attempts, I tried a third time, raising my voice slightly – “Bitte?” – to attract her attention. I smiled and asked for the dessert – to be told “the kitchen closed at 8pm” (it was now 8.03). Despite the best charm I could muster, I realised I was getting nowhere with her. In exasperation, I noted that this was probably the first time in my life that having sat down for a meal I was not allowed to order a dessert or be told to get an order in by a deadline (she obviously had not heard of `Magnus Magnusson?). BMW! She testily responded that she could not imagine anyone ordering a dessert after both a starter and main course . . . Ouch!

3. Zer are Rules . . .

I was first to the breakfast area. It was beautifully laid out. I put my key down on the table closest to the buffet and started to select some tasty morsels. After sitting down and starting to eat, I noticed a small wooden block in the middle of the table with the number 101 carved into it. A glance at the adjacent tables revealed 102, 103 . . . my room was 107. Rather than move all my breakfast things, I strolled down and swopped wooden blocks, demoting Mr 101 to the 7th table.

A pleasant young waitress appeared and asked if I would like cooked eggs to which I quickly assented. They were presented promptly and were delicious.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mr 101 inspecting the 7th table, puzzled at the unexpected sequencing. But he took a seat and started his breakfast.

The young waitress appeared with another plate of scrambled eggs – under the watchful eye of the Breakfast Room Frau. When I explained I had already had my eggs (Delicious!), the Frau came over to investigate. Her expression changed when she saw that the 101 Eggs needed to be delivered to a different table. Not a word was spoken but when she stared at me – BMW!

4. Put your rubbish away!

Long day cycling, energy low. And then, like a mirage in the desert – Bakerei! Answer to a prayer!

It was a beautiful premises – still with a good selection of breads and pastries late in the afternoon – with a large dining area (perhaps 20-25 tables), with just two ladies chatting. The woman behind the counter was all business. When I asked for a coffee and pastry she curtly told me (I understood the thrust of her rapid-fire German immediately) the coffee machine was closed. I asked for an Orangina instead and sat down to enjoy it with a pastry.

I waved goodbye and said both Thank you and Goodbye (just as my mother would have insisted) and left the bakery. As I was throwing a leg over the crossbar, the woman came rushing out and gestured for me to follow her back in. Puzzled, I followed her. She took me to where I had been sitting and pointed first to my empty Orangina bottle and crumpled serviette and then to a rubbish bin. BMW!

What am I to think?

I understand Rules. Much of my professional career has been about formulating or checking compliance with various rules.

But, as my former colleague might say “Would ye take a Chill Pill?” (Or, perhaps, “Would you build a bridge – and get over it?!”).

I am reminded of a recent governance mediation when I appealed to the parties to “show a generosity of spirit” , to make some allowances . . . there was even more buzzing there.