When I was a young boy, fiftheen or so, I went to England with a pale of mine. We stayed in a host family at Worthing, Sussex for about three weeks. On one evening our host family, which contented of mother, father and two sons, came back from a drinking event and they all were very drunken. The elder son started joking about the terrible Nazi-past and then attacked my friend physically. It was a horror and so we fled from the house immideately. We spent the night outside and on the next morning we called our course leader. Altogether we went back to the host family which was, eventually sober again. We discussed the awkward evening before and then the elder son of the family apologized for his misbehaviour. We accepted his sorry, but, nevertheless, the incident was still on our mind.