Herman and I have landed in many weird and wonderful situations. Recently when I traveled to Amsterdam with him, it was no exception. The highlight of our visit was to stand for almost an hour in a freezing cold milk bottling depot on the outskirts of the Dutch city!
      But let me begin at the beginning. We left London Airport at 8 a.m. on Friday morning, and an hour later we arrived at Amsterdam. Pardon me - we didn't quite arrive. Rather circled over the aiport for twenty minutes before the pilot decided he had to return to London!
      Back in London Airport Lounge, we ordered coffees and waited to be called for the second time. We settled down at a table, and I asked Herman about his new record "East West."
      "Not doing as well as it should be, is it?" he replied. "Still, 'Top of The Pops' last night might help it along. The strange thing is that 'No Milk Today' is still selling well and many stations are still playing it."
      I felt a tap on my shoulder and, looking around, found four familiar faces peering at me - the Small Faces! They were going to fly to Paris.
      As usual, they were full of the joys of life - all, that is, except Steve Marriott, who had a terrible toothache. "Try a spot of Scotch on it," suggested "Plonk."
      "Brandy's better," advised Herman. And so we adjourned to the bar to find the cure!
      Unfortunately, nothing seemed to help and several minutes later their flight was called.
      "They're good lads," said Herman as the Small Faces disappeared. "How do they always manage to look so happy?"
      About twenty minutes later our Amsterdam flight was called and we trooped downstairs to the coach taking us out to the plane.
      Good old Bea! After sitting on the coach for ten minutes, an air hostess told us there was trouble with the loading equipment and would we kindly return to the lounge and wait for another call.
      After a further twenty frustrating minutes we were called again, and finally the aeroplane took off, and this time, hooray, we did land at Amsterdam.
      Waiting to meet us at Schiphol Airport were two worried-looking EMI (Holland) officials, who had been waiting since 9 a.m.
      "We must hurry now," one of them said, shepherding us towards a waiting car. Herman's visit was purely to promote his records in Holland. At the moment he has three discs in the Dutch chart - "No Milk Today," at No. 1; "Dandy," at 7; and "East West" is beginning to climb.
      A TV spot, a radio interview and a Press reception had been arranged, but the first stop was at a milk depot in Hilversum, some miles from Amsterdam, for the TV and Press interviews.
      The TV people wanted to film Herman standing at a conveyor belt, filling crates with milk. And so we went into the refrigerator depot where Dutchmen in white coats and clogs were scurrying to and fro with barrow-loads of milk.
      "Knee deep in cold milk," moaned herman to me quietly.
      Above the rattle of bottles the interview began. "Do you really like milk?" asked the interviewer.
      "Never drink it except in the morning!" replied Herman, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
      "You seem to be more popular in America that you are in Europe. Do you know why this is?"
      "Not really, but I want to be as big here as I am there."
      "Do you buy pop records yourself?"
      "Yes. I've got all the Beatles' discs."
      After the interview everyone returned to the staff canteen, where about seventy reporters and photographers were waiting. Waitresses came round with glasses of milk and cups of coffee - I can't imagine that happening at a reception in Britain - and the questions began again.
      Asked one reporter: "If you were not who you are, whom would you like to be?"
      "Herman's brother."
      "How many films have you made?"
      "One called 'Hold On!'"
      "When do you start filming the next?"
      "In April, filming 'Mrs. Brown, You've Got A Lovely Daughter', in England."
      The Press conference was brought to an end, and we moved to the on-land studios of Radio Veronica, Holland's pirate radio station, which transmits from a ship.
      Another taped interview with one of Holland's top deejays there, telephone interviews with Dutch newspapers and a presentation ceremony, in which Herman was given a Gold Disc for "No Milk Today," which has sold 100,000 in Holland and it was almost time to fly back to London.
      We had been in Holland for five hours. Even though I had just been an observer, I felt exhausted. Yet Herman was still wide awake and looked fresh. And I was "all in."