Earlier today in Witley Scrotum high-street I spotted an elderly, grey-haired but distinctly elegant lady getting into a really rather well-travel-worn silver-blue
Bristol 411.
We got to chat, and discuss classic cars. Seems she'd just returned from her late-summer 'European tour' in the company of - as she put it - her "current boyfriend" - who was an ex-British-Airways pilot.
They'd toured the Mediterranean, the Balkans, and down the Adriatic.
Comments-worth-mentioning:
"The highway-police around Zagreb don't like having to do 140MPH to catch you. But we had lots of dollar travellers-cheques and half a case of Veuve-du-Vernay in the boot to buy them off"
"Turkish petrol gives the Bristol indigestion"
"The air-conditioning packed up in Split. We found a nice man who could give us some new refrigerant"
"The Rascasse in Monaco has gone horribly downmarket in the last 30 years".
"Last year we went down to Morocco. Casablanca, Tangier; the locals weren't nice".
Me? I commend the 'reckless pensioner' types who can drive a 1970s classic-car over something like 6000 miles and enjoy the high-life!