Boy, you blighters fair prattle on – I go away for three weeks and come back to around 500 new posts!!! 
But I’ll struggle on… And during those three weeks we did not see a newspaper or watch telly – Bush could’ve nuked the rest of the world, for all we knew!
Scottish readers will know that we are blessed with a direct ferry link between Rosyth and Zeebrugge. It started four years ago and we have used it since the very beginning. So just as Londoners think the world stops at Watford, as far as I am concerned, a line drawn through Skipton, Harrogate and York marks the southern edge of Britain! (So tough on all yous who reside between these arbitrary boundaries!)
Folk flinch at the £600 return fare for car and two passengers on the Superfast ferry but that includes an outside 2-berth cabin and as much grub as you can shovel down your neck at the superb buffet dinner and breakfast. Set that against the 1000 mile return grind on M6, M1, M25 and M20 and D, B+B both ways as well as the return Channel crossing fare, and it looks to me like a great deal.
We had an easy run round Paris, covering the 23 miles from C de G to Palaiseu on the A10 in 35 minutes. Glad I wasn’t heading north though – drove for nearly 20 minutes past three lanes of stationery traffic – say, 15 miles.
France has roughly the same human and car population as the UK but with twice the space and three times the RTA death rate. But even on cruise at 130 kph, they pile on past like you’re standing still.
Roadside shrines of dead flowers are all the rage and we examined one near a tree with all the bark torn off. A picture of a guy in his twenties standing beside a red high-powered bike had the legend “He lived life to the full.” No, he didn’t – he lived life to about 30%. The road, needless to say, had gentle curves, was beautifully surfaced and clear sightlines. Judging by the tree he must have been exceeding the 90 kph limit by some margin.
Another favoured trick is to romp up and attach themselves to your back bumper, make an ill-advised overtaking manoeuvre, then draw off the road at the next village. Time saved – 6 nano-seconds.
But, worry not! The Gendarmerie is on the case. Apart from hiding behind bushes where oncoming traffic spot them and warn possible victims, they are out and about with the old breathalysers. For the first time in my life, I was stopped by a lovely Police-girlie who huskily requested I blow into her leetle bag. As it was around midday, I’m not sure what kind of desperados she was hoping to catch – perhaps a Scottish middle-aged couple in a middle-aged classic Merc fitted their profile… Anyway she confirmed I was as sober as I’ll ever be, and wished us “bonne journee.”
On our second week, we were drifting around the hilly roads near Roche de Solutre, west of Macon when all of a sudden a convoy passed us in the opposite direction – a silver 911 Carrera cabriolet, a gunmetal 911 Turbo, a third 911 coupe, a silver Carrera GT (Oh yes!) a blue 911 coupe, a dark R129 SL, a red Ferrari F40 (True!) another silver 911 cabriolet, a Maserati coupe (the latest) and another silver 911 Turbo. (The driver of that one waved – but I don’t think I knew him!)
I never thought I would feel sympathy for the driver of a 129 SL. He actually had the most sensible car and I hope he had at least 8 cylinders, but he was the outclassed pauper of the group! A bit of envy, perhaps, but the rest were perhaps a bunch of Richards as they howled past in second gear whilst worrying about grounding the exhausts and spoilers.
I think it would have been more fun with the group we saw the previous week in the Perigord – an old-school British raid with the usual suspects – Jaguars XK & E-Types, A-H 3000, Alvis TE, sundry MGAs & Bs, Daimler SP250 etc.
Petrol ranges from 1.19€ to 1.35€ for 95u/l and 1.34€ to 1.52€ for 98u/l. Diesel went from 1€ to 1.10€. I got 30.4 mpg over 2300 miles and she ran beautifully. The heat makes the leather creak more and some trim starts to twitter and squeak! (a bit like the occupants)
Toodle-pip! (Car to polish...)
But I’ll struggle on… And during those three weeks we did not see a newspaper or watch telly – Bush could’ve nuked the rest of the world, for all we knew!Scottish readers will know that we are blessed with a direct ferry link between Rosyth and Zeebrugge. It started four years ago and we have used it since the very beginning. So just as Londoners think the world stops at Watford, as far as I am concerned, a line drawn through Skipton, Harrogate and York marks the southern edge of Britain! (So tough on all yous who reside between these arbitrary boundaries!)
Folk flinch at the £600 return fare for car and two passengers on the Superfast ferry but that includes an outside 2-berth cabin and as much grub as you can shovel down your neck at the superb buffet dinner and breakfast. Set that against the 1000 mile return grind on M6, M1, M25 and M20 and D, B+B both ways as well as the return Channel crossing fare, and it looks to me like a great deal.
We had an easy run round Paris, covering the 23 miles from C de G to Palaiseu on the A10 in 35 minutes. Glad I wasn’t heading north though – drove for nearly 20 minutes past three lanes of stationery traffic – say, 15 miles.
France has roughly the same human and car population as the UK but with twice the space and three times the RTA death rate. But even on cruise at 130 kph, they pile on past like you’re standing still.
Roadside shrines of dead flowers are all the rage and we examined one near a tree with all the bark torn off. A picture of a guy in his twenties standing beside a red high-powered bike had the legend “He lived life to the full.” No, he didn’t – he lived life to about 30%. The road, needless to say, had gentle curves, was beautifully surfaced and clear sightlines. Judging by the tree he must have been exceeding the 90 kph limit by some margin.
Another favoured trick is to romp up and attach themselves to your back bumper, make an ill-advised overtaking manoeuvre, then draw off the road at the next village. Time saved – 6 nano-seconds.
But, worry not! The Gendarmerie is on the case. Apart from hiding behind bushes where oncoming traffic spot them and warn possible victims, they are out and about with the old breathalysers. For the first time in my life, I was stopped by a lovely Police-girlie who huskily requested I blow into her leetle bag. As it was around midday, I’m not sure what kind of desperados she was hoping to catch – perhaps a Scottish middle-aged couple in a middle-aged classic Merc fitted their profile… Anyway she confirmed I was as sober as I’ll ever be, and wished us “bonne journee.”
On our second week, we were drifting around the hilly roads near Roche de Solutre, west of Macon when all of a sudden a convoy passed us in the opposite direction – a silver 911 Carrera cabriolet, a gunmetal 911 Turbo, a third 911 coupe, a silver Carrera GT (Oh yes!) a blue 911 coupe, a dark R129 SL, a red Ferrari F40 (True!) another silver 911 cabriolet, a Maserati coupe (the latest) and another silver 911 Turbo. (The driver of that one waved – but I don’t think I knew him!)
I never thought I would feel sympathy for the driver of a 129 SL. He actually had the most sensible car and I hope he had at least 8 cylinders, but he was the outclassed pauper of the group! A bit of envy, perhaps, but the rest were perhaps a bunch of Richards as they howled past in second gear whilst worrying about grounding the exhausts and spoilers.
I think it would have been more fun with the group we saw the previous week in the Perigord – an old-school British raid with the usual suspects – Jaguars XK & E-Types, A-H 3000, Alvis TE, sundry MGAs & Bs, Daimler SP250 etc.
Petrol ranges from 1.19€ to 1.35€ for 95u/l and 1.34€ to 1.52€ for 98u/l. Diesel went from 1€ to 1.10€. I got 30.4 mpg over 2300 miles and she ran beautifully. The heat makes the leather creak more and some trim starts to twitter and squeak! (a bit like the occupants)
Toodle-pip! (Car to polish...)
