This Was the Summer That Was

"Summer's lease hath all too short a date," sighed Shakespeare in the 18th sonnet, but as far as most of Western Europe is concerned, the sooner the lease runs out the better. After one of the worst winters in memory, this summer has proved a thing of wind and wetness, of a cool July and August snows, of record rains and blighted harvests, of burgeoning prices and other irritants. If such crises of daily living were minor compared with the test ban treaty or South Viet Nam, they still meant a difference between good times and bad for millions of otherwise flourishing Europeans.

-BRITAIN. Plainly, the seaside was fit only for the fish, and hotelkeepers reported that bookings were off 15%. For the hardy souls who went, getting there was no fun either, since Britain has only 250 miles of superhighways (compared with Germany's 1,870). Since a sweeping motorways plan was adopted seven years ago, the British have been building roads at Model T rates, and planners pale at the thought that by 1980 the current car population of 6,000,000 will have trebled. Motorists themselves grow pale at a more immediate prospect: Transport Minister Ernest Marples' plan to impose parking-meter charges of 35-c- an hour in parts of London.

Perhaps most symbolic of Britain's summertime complaints was the stuttering progress on the renovation of No. 10 Downing Street, residence of British Prime Ministers since 1735. A parliamentary commission pronounced the place a "horror" in 1958, packed Harold Macmillan off to nearby Admiralty House before the floor gave way beneath him, estimated that it would take two years and $1,100,000 to repair the building. But no end is in sight after five years and $8,500,000. Matters were not helped by 14 work stoppages. But then, the building workers were only following a pattern, for this, after all, was the summer when even the Beefeaters in the Tower struck for higher wages.

-FRANCE. What most exasperated Frenchmen was the foul weather. In Biarritz, 400 houses were flooded in one day, and in the Somme department, a vacationer died of exposure when he foolhardily went swimming. There was also the wine crisis (see WORLD BUSINESS) and fear of inflation. The latest price increases affected bread and postage stamps; since Charles de Gaulle came to power in 1958, the prices of 250 essential articles have climbed 25%, excluding rents, which have soared 82%. Paris newspapers spoke of a "grave crisis," but the government put off a scheduled discussion of the economic situation until midmonth, when at least the weather may be better.

-GERMANY. Despite the abundance of four-lane, cement-paved Autobahnen, which are beginning to crumble at the edges, 10 million cars owned by prospering West Germans and countless tourist autos clogged the roads in what Der Spiegel called "the longest traffic jam in the history of the Occident." One tie-up stretched 20 miles, involved 4,100 cars. Some motorists have been seen drawing water from nearby brooks and washing their cars while waiting for traffic to get moving.

What saddens some Germans even more than the traffic is the news that more than 200 of the ancient dwellings in Heidelberg's Altstadt--the "Old Town" where generations of Heidelberg students loved to stroll--are near collapse from neglect and fungus rot. Loath to destroy the Altstadt (and along with it a lucrative tourist trade), Heidelbergers are equally reluctant to try to raise the $50 million needed to restore the buildings.

-ITALY. Summer skies were sunny in Italy, but that created its own problems. Tourists fleeing from the frozen north created colossal traffic jams at the Brenner Pass and three-hour tie-ups along other roads. Italians who flocked to Sardinia's much-ballyhooed Costa Esmeralda, where the Aga Khan is building a resort, found themselves quartered in half-finished hotels with neither lights nor hot water. And the annual crush of German tourists never quite materialized. Offended by a rash of Italian-made anti-German films, some German newspapers advised their readers to take their business elsewhere.

Thousands did so, headed for Yugoslavia instead.

-THE LOW COUNTRIES. In The Netherlands, the weather hurt the corn crop and stunted Dutch bulbs, draining them of their brilliant hues. In Belgium, the flax crop is bad, and the wheat harvest in some places is one-fourth its normal size. But of greater concern to the Belgians than the meager harvest or the tempestuous weather was a new law that goes into effect this week, creating a formal language barrier across the land. Dutch will be the official tongue in the Flemish north, French in the Walloon-dominated south, with pockets of both peoples stranded on the wrong side. Months of demonstrations culminated last week when hundreds of Flemings clashed with Walloons at Ostend.

It was the beer-bibbing Belgians, whose per-capita inflow of 34.3 gallons is the world's highest, who put a foamy head on a disheartening summer. They scheduled a National Beer Festival at the Chateau de Fraiture in Liege province, but before the guzzling could even get started, the chateau burned down, lock, stock and beer barrels.

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