70th Anniversary of D Day in Normandy

I had two choices for my visit to Normandy to celebrate the 70th anniversary of the greatest invasion from the sea in the history of the world.
I could either knit my own jeep from left over wool, or risk travelling over 1500 miles in an untried 21 year old slightly ( make that 'very')  rusty Land Rover Discovery. Imagine my shock when I discovered someone else had actually taken the time to hand knit a WW2 American jeep! Choice made then...... just as well, my knitting is lousy.

     So on Tuesday 3rd June 2014 my friend Neil and I set off from the North East of England. My meticulous preparations had more or less amounted to checking the oil, as most of it seemed to be lying on the road outside my house, and putting some stickers on - my favourite being the Rampant Boar adopted by Monty's XXX Corp as they travelled through France in '44.

      Thus adorned we set off to drive to Dover and on the way hopefully see the Hawkinge Battle of Britain museum, and the B.o.B memorial at Capel le Ferne, which sounds like it's in France but strangely isn't.
As I was reviving Neil, who had fainted in the queue at Costa Coffee upon discovering how much two cappuccinos cost, my eye was drawn to our vehicle currently bathed in sunshine in the car park. I could see fluid dripping from the engine bay and running in a tiny but terrifying stream, forming a puddle. As we walked towards it, I was already preparing to go home and pick up my comfortable, reliable but slightly boring Volvo. Opening the bonnet I could see the fluid was coming from a radiator hose held by a jubilee clip. I asked Neil for help but immediately came to understand the stupidity of my request. He was wearing his best white T-shirt, and thus completely unable to offer assistance.  Reluctantly he did open my toolkit ( a screwdriver, roll of black sticky tape and a tin of WD40- if they can't fix it, it's gone forever) and using said screwdriver I tightened the clip and the leak stopped. What an anti-climax for you, the reader!  However, for me that repair was comparable to anyone else changing a gearbox using a hairpin and a rolled up copy of Landrover Monthly.

     Blasting down the motorway at nearly 60mph we discovered that lifting of the gas pedal on downhill sections induced a stomach churning sideways weaving motion but by loosening your death grip on the steering wheel, she eventually straightened out. So this is how those test pilots battling to break the sound barrier felt!

     Time passed and we managed to visit both BoB places which were great. For some reason at Hawkinge they questioned us closely about media devices and then confiscated our phones, talking darkly about previously uncooperative guests. When asked if I had one, I pointed at Neil and said he did. He in turn pointed at me. We make a great team!

      Am I saluting or is the sun in my eyes?  Bit of both, really. It was impossible not to feel emotional seeing the statue and the long list of names on the wall behind.

And so to our hotel in Dover, looking forward to worrying about whether Lurch would start in the morning, or would we miss the boat!

Lurch?   Tell you next time.