The Start of the project.

This is the first few days of the project back in March 2006.

Arriving in France 2011

Cracks papered over?

“What do you think you are doing? This needs to be sorted, come back, straight away!” At least he’d got that bit right, this most definitely needed to be resolved. Opening the garage door I was again met with a torrent of abuse. “Nobody but nobody slams a door in my face, look, look I can quite easily drop this project, and I will if you are going to behave like that; and another thing, what was that snide comment you made in the Oak last night “the pen is mightier than the mouth”, they were all fuckin’ laughing at me when you had gone. I don’t expect a mate to stab me in the back like that with clever friggin’ remarks. You have the nerve to storm off just because I ask you to make another poxy list! What’s all that about!....….It is difficult, even in the best circumstances to discuss anything with Chris, he is not a listener. I did manage to mention that I had always been appreciative of his work but I felt that re-writing another fuckin’ list was yet another pointless exercise I had been asked to fulfil. I looked around the garage at the many ‘programmes of work’ I had needlessly produced, there to be totally ignored, the endless deadlines that had been grossly under estimated and the chaotic, muddled working conditions contradicted by empty promises of don’t worry, ‘things will be tidied up’. Was I in the right or in the wrong, a caring compassionate friend or a big soft ‘wuss’? I really did not know.

After I had apologised for my irrational behaviour a tense fragile calm prevailed from which I was dispatched to Brabbin and Rudd for the bolt that Colin wanted to finish the dry build of the handbrake mechanism. My other duties for the day were to collect the two engine panels from Catterall and Wood that had been dressed by Alan and, of course, draft another more specific, detailed order for Jigsaw Racing. I have had a personal character fault for as long as can remember to which Jo, over the years, has attempted to rectify, she has continually encouraged me to address this woeful trait. 

I have always thought I have shown tremendous loyalty but furthermore complete respect to true friends as well as pointedly avoiding the tossers  and wankers of this world. But when I feel let down even slightly betrayed by someone close my immediate reaction is to blank out the problem, to walk away, to regress into a mega-sulk, perversely yet inevitably choosing never to actually confront the problem. This was another example of such a circumstance. As the day wore on, either on the road or bashing the keys I could not rationalise the events of the morning. Conflicting thoughts rattled around my baffled, tormented mind manifesting themselves as either vacuous stares or fluctuating gloomy bleak moods. Were the cracks beginning to show, was the marriage over to be destined for the grabbing lawyers or sucking shrinks? Was the project doomed? Or was it because, as I have always been told in the past, that I am a temperamental, thin skinned, stubborn, bloody-minded, self centred Scorpio. Bollocks, I think not, but then I wouldn’t.        

Luckily the working day had improved every ones mood. The letters had been prepared and written for Rimmers, Chic Doig and Jigsaw, the panels collected from Alan, which were thankfully greeted with obvious delight  because they had been superbly crafted, Colin had created another piece of engineering magic by designing then building the handbrake mechanism, meanwhile Chris had built up the steering column and rack. Everyone in the team appeared very satisfied. Chris proudly showed me the work confessing begrudgingly that we should, never, never, ever, ever ‘fall out’ again. “Let’s draw a line under it, forget it and move on, I hate anything like this”. C’est moi aussi.

The first team was out in the Oak. David and Adele, Emma, Lowtie, Chris, Jimmy the Axe, Danny and Katie, Robert, Jamie and the girl with the big tits, Tim and Doctor Dave. The guest of honour had also arrived travelling up safely in a Virgin Express train from the ‘Smoke’. It was Knockers new chick, Nikki. Andy Lewis was also propping up the bar soaking up the gentle banter, cosy bon amie, chatting casually to both Mad John and Knocker. We were introduced to Nikki who was, as ‘Clubber’ had indicated, very talkative, having red ‘funky’ hair, a petite frame, face and feet; she worked for the immigration services in Weybridge. After careful observation I realised that Nikki, Knocker, Lewis and Mad John were edging toward the main group. It was clear that Knocker could now coolly deliver his trump card informing David that he would call around tomorrow to ensure the horses had been fed, that Chris had completed the service on his Merc, Tim had ‘made ready’ his boat, Doctor Dave had picked up his ‘whistle’ from the cleaners and it was of course ok for me to holiday in his house in Provence. Knocker had bagged a ‘bullshit full house’ in one fell swoop. 

The day has ended on a happier note than it had begun. I was completely over my sulk, which relieved Jo, but I had also surprised myself. Chris, thankfully, had significantly lowered his blood pressure, with the aid of six pints of ‘Stella’. I legitimately feel that this unsavoury passage is probably behind us.

The first day of stripping the Burlington

Fri.17.03.06. We have bravely committed to a second day of examination of the cars’ basic structural condition. It is St Patrick’s Day when traditionally anyone who has even the slightest whisper of a connection with the Emerald Isle has a strong obligation to throw a ‘sicky’, sing monotonous Irish ballads with the sole intention of getting momentously pissed. I wonder if this will be significant. The piercing wind unrelenting biting cold are still with us but at least today there is sufficient daylight so we can see what we are doing. The project is still in the balance because of the possibility of the warped tub. During the morning we pressed on with the removal of the wings and nose cone. I think Chris was very impressed with the huge range of nuts, bolts, screws and fasteners that I had used on the car. He was particularly astonished at their different sizes notably how appropriate they were for the job. But, because of their diversity as well as lacking the relevant ‘Imperial’ spanners in our extensive toolbox, we had to revert to the all-embracing applications of the angle grinder to remove many of the corroded nuts and bolts. I had made such an outstanding job of fixing the parts that it was often impossible to release them in the conventional manner. It was a successful day but still there remains the big question as to whether or not we should proceed. Even though there was much removed from the car we still couldn’t reposition the tub to make sure that there could be correct alignment. I am still quite depressed at the thought of abandoning the car, but the boss will have the last word, as such it will be the sensible decision.

In the Oak the celebrations for Patrick’s night were underway. I thought that the only place to steer clear of the dreadful Irish banging on about fucking convicts, potato famine, being screwed by the British and other crimes against those lovely, charming Irish gypos would be the Oak, but unfortunately not. Coinciding with our time of arrival of 6.05, Doctor Dave sparked up with the Rivers of Appin Rye from Galway Bay in 1842, in the key of Z, by 6.25 and 35 verses later he’d finished. Fuck me, this is exactly what I wanted to avoid. So much so that I stayed until 12.30am.

Midway through the evening Chris had subtly tapped up Dave Brown, who as well as being a fireman is an excellent carpenter, to fashion the dashboard of the car. This was forward planning at it’s best; we had not even determined whether or not the project would be ‘off the ground’ when he was blagging him into a meeting tomorrow to measure the prospective difficulties of turning a gearstick from a solid piece of mahogany. I have got to hand it Chris, he could probably also sell “how not to be a complete moronic twat” to Liam Gallagher subsequently converting him to Christianity.

Tomorrow is ‘D day’. It could be the budding prospect of creating a wonderful car or filling a skip full of rusty metal

Epitaph

                                       Burlington Diary February 2012

This could be the final piece of dialogue about The Burlington SS project that began way back in March 2006. Not the joyous conclusion I had wished for but a true end none the less. I am not completely free from blame. Re-visiting the same old ground I have eventually decided that my earlier compliance to every concept, routes travelled, time frames abandoned, deadlines never met plus the numerous occasions when I always ‘fell in line’ or just plain, ‘rolled over’, had contributed ultimately to the ‘messy divorce’. I allowed my personal parameters to be undermined too many times becoming the easy target, the whipping boy. A bully can smell weakness; repeated criticism becomes straightforward, effortless, developing into reinforced, established behaviour. Only realising these characteristics after the event is my excuse; the deep rooted resentment is as much my fault as his. I must, therefore, share the responsibility of this unacceptable, distasteful and uncomfortable conclusion.

Sun.19.02.12. I have kept my distance From Chris Ball for the past 6 months avoiding any possible contact in the Oak; Jo and I usually watch the bands on Sunday from the safety of the vault, it is the only time that we venture into the pub when he is present. But regrettably, there have been notable events in my private life that have taken priority over the ‘Ball’ saga. Dad has been discharged from the Stewart assessment centre on the 22^nd of October to be admitted to Broad Oak Manor nursing home. He remains there to this day despite being transferred with the sole purpose of spending his final few weeks receiving ‘palliative’ care. Sadly, Mum died quite suddenly on the 23^rd of January, I suspect that she had finally accepted that dad would not ever return home: she became depressed and possibly just gave up. After 2 weeks of illness, again with the stubborn refusal to receive professional care she was admitted to Whiston hospital where she died during the night due to the deep seated infection in her chest: ‘community pneumonia’ was the actual cause of death. The home visits earlier in the week from Dr. Russell along with the prescribed antibiotics had not done the trick. She did in fact have her final wish, she would never ‘go into care’, neither would she ever accept any external support; these two factors eventually became her undoing. I found it very difficult to grieve openly at the funeral apart from empathising with dad who had assimilated his wife’s demise responding appropriately at the service. The intention in the future is to have a joint ‘celebration’ when Dad’s situation is resolved; a proper send off. Until then we mark time. We visit Dad every day, he seems strong but his mental state fluctuates, he also appears very frail.

Mike has been over for the funeral and offered some sound advice regarding the irretrievable situation that exists between Chris and I. He feels strongly that the conflicting interpretation of the major issues continued for far too long, deep seated bitterness and resentment had set in becoming entrenched, embellished and reinforced by the passing of time. The verbal and physical attack on the 23^rd July 2011 was the result of this festering resentment that had been ‘slowly cooked up’ over the previous 18 months. There was absolutely zero rational supporting the ‘claimed’ elementary facts. There had been exaggerated, fictitious statements, incorrect time frames, procedural decisions untruthfully exclaimed as well as the complete misinterpretation of the real events. Mike had had a similar situation during his early years in business, where he allowed a problem to rankle only confronting the major concerns when it was too late. His interpretation of events had become warped, his understanding of the personal problems misjudged. He harboured bitterness for many years afterwards in an attempt to make sense of what had happened; he chewed over the conflicting facts, procedures and outcomes. In his mind he could not resolve the ‘event’ at all until he was faced with the comparable problem that he vowed to address immediately; it was only then that he could enjoy total closure from the primary problem. The moral of the story is that, no matter what I do or say Chris will always harbour anger and resentment over the affair; it may be manifested in another guise but the indisputable obstruction will always be the ‘Burlington’. I have therefore decided to have no contact whatsoever with Chris. Nothing will satisfy his acrimonious animosity towards myself. He will never be convinced, persuaded or proven to be in any way responsible for this dreadful state of affairs.

Yet, on Sunday whilst leaving the pub he had another snipe; in typically sneaky fashion; after a smiling greeting to Jo he turned to me ‘slyly whispering’ that ‘manners cost nothing’, and with that left the pub. I have now a greater understanding of Mike’s advice. This problem will not go away. I still feel that complete non contact is the only remedy: but again, I feel that this will not be enough for Chris Ball.

Although the project is concluded I plan to take the Burlington on many continental trips over the next few years. I shall endeavour to be informative, intuitive and most of all content. I shall post as blogs when I have sufficient material: please keep in touch.
Many thanks for following my story; I hope you have enjoyed the journey as much as myself.

Promotional photos for CKC magazine

The Burlington is being prepared for the photo shoot for Complete Kit Car Magazine

Outside the Chateau at Sercy.

The wash house at Messeugne sur Guye

The camp site at Savigny

The church at Mont St. Vincent

Le Cafe 'Bec Fin'

Cafe du Loup

The 3 star Hotel de Bougogne at Cluny. One day we shall stay and eat in this place?

The Abbaye at Cluny.

Many more of these photographs have been stored and catalogued for the sole purpose of an article which may be published in Complete Kit car Magazine: unfortunately this has not yet happened. But what I do intend to 'post' are the many planned tours in the Burlington around Europe over the next few years. They will be detailed, documented as well as visual images of the places discovered and recorded. I intend to continue with my blog in this way: so please keep reading, I hope you enjoy the next stage. Many thanks for following the complete story over the past years. There remains only the 'Epitaph' which will follow this blog. 

Loose ends

Tues.23.08.11. I have finally made contact with Nigel Penk; he feels no animosity towards me and said after the sudden death of his young wife Mandy he just walked away from the business to look after his children, who are now 18, 16, and 7 respectively. He had closed the workshop the same day and has not returned since. I have had no excuse not to trace him before, but after two years I had learned to ignore the payment. I unequivocally apologised which he graciously accepted. I paid my debt of £250 plus a further £50 for my tardiness, wishing him all the best for the future: both Jo and I left at 5.45. The matter is closed albeit two years late.

Mon.29.08.11. There has been a further notable twist in the Chris Ball saga. I had been in the Oak for about one hour talking to Captain Salty and Danny Brennan about trivial football and Rugby anecdotes. After they had left Chris entered the pub, immediately making contact. In his own way, he apologised for his behaviour claiming that his genuine passion for the vehicle had accounted for his outrageous behaviour when he realised I had left for France without the triumphant send off he had assumed should have occurred. Which incidentally could possibly only have been manufactured intuitively, by instinct or impulse since neither the Doc nor myself had a not a clue of what was ‘going on’ in his head. He had a journalist lined up, he wanted to drive the vehicle with ‘Brockie’, it had been a life saver for him, he loved every entire inch, every nut and bolt, he had crafted and created the complete concept. 

Unquestionably, the project had occupied his life for the past five years; it had in fact been a ‘life saver’. His brutal reaction had been unforgivable, out of character. “I am a gentle person just like yourself!” “I would also like to apologise to Jo, please pass on my thoughts: all this ‘bother’ is making me ill.”

I accepted everything that he had said, shaking his hand, I commented that we should put all of this nasty business behind us, water under the bridge, move on, sign it off. He appeared contrite, humble, more significantly he had not had a drink: this was as honest an explanation as it was going to be. I am also personally pleased this unpleasant episode has reached some sort of conclusion: I am also in no doubt that this may be only a temporary truce, but perhaps I shall be proved wrong.  

Possible reconciliation

Tues.26.07.11. Since the event I have tried to get in touch with both Dick and Nigel (I have left a message with his uncle at his old garage to contact me regarding this possible debt). As I suspected I do not owe Dick one cent: just as I had assumed, he had completed the job out of the kindness of his heart; a visit to ‘Damians’ bike breakers yard confirmed this. “I was glad to help, I had no regular work at the time so the days working on the car were really enjoyable. I didn’t want a penny for any of it, I thought I had told Chris at the time?”

Sun.21.08.11. Down at the Oak Jo and I had been enjoying a pleasant afternoon watching a great little blues trio along with intermittently chatting to Lowtie and Danny Boon when in walked Chris accompanied by Danny Brennan, Preacher and Andy Lewis. Apparently they had been on pub crawl in Stockport, Danny’s home town.

I did want to leave so as not to cause any embarrassment or divided support from any of the assembled friends, but Lowtie insisted I should stay and not be railroaded out of the pub: so we agreed, watching the last set of the band. But as we were leaving I asked Andy how Margo’s ‘do’ had been the previous night, which unfortunately gave Chris his usual sneaky opportunity to speak to Jo. She immediately informed him that she did not want to speak to him. I then moved on to chat with Jenny and Joe Berry from where I could hear Chris calling my name quickly followed by him making advances towards me. Fortunately, he was then dragged back by Andy.

If there is going to be any reconciliation it will not happen after he has consumed far too much beer than he can handle; I have at least learned that lesson. If it was to be a serious apology, which I do not believe for one moment, the appropriate opportunity should have been immediately upon entering the pub, not when we were leaving one hour later.

It is a difficult time that needs resolving, but any contact after a boozy Sunday afternoon is not going to put an end to the problems of the past month.

Final attack

I continued to explain my perception of the situation, constantly stating that I had been extremely grateful for everything that he, over the past 4 years had contributed, every effort, time and heart into the car: as a consequence I emphasised yet again,   “You have worked your tripe out for 4 years to produce a wonderful vehicle: Are you not proud?  My overall view was that you needed the vehicle out of the garage to complete other things; Rachel needed her office moving so the space was required for that? You asked me to remove boxes of nuts, bolts, axle stands, in fact anything that was associated with the car, from the workshop. I thought that in your opinion it had run its course and you needed the space but over the past 2 years I offered on numerous occasions that you should continue to be involved; but you were always appeared to be ‘hot or cold’ regarding the conclusion of the project. I proffered to pay for you to travel to France in the car for the inaugural trip and I would fly or train you back home. I asked you on more than 3 occasions but you never said either way that you wanted to come; I assumed that you didn’t want any fuss. The original concept of the grand gesture leaving gloriously from the Oak had long past; I firmly believed that no one was interested anymore.”

But, regrettably yet relentlessly, he continued to accuse me of being the worst person in the world, he had utter abhorrence for my behaviour; I was the liar, the total contemptible person, he was determined to hit me. His final physical attack began when he grabbed my shirt forcefully threatening, with a clenched fist, to knock me senseless; promising to ‘butt’ me where I stood. I was speechless. Thankfully, David stepped in, ripped him off, finally frogmarching him out of the pub to transport him home.

I apologised to ‘Doc’ and left myself.

The deal is done, as distasteful as it was: it is probably a better ending to the entire project than the one that should have been created; there is nothing juicier than a messy divorce. Win some, lose some. This is probably the end to the story. Thank fuck for that. 

To be continued........

Physical attack

I was the villain: I was then, at this point, extraordinarily accused of not paying Nigel Penk for additional paintwork and also Dick, who I assumed had volunteered his services, “Just because he enjoys to do ‘stuff’ like that doesn’t mean that he didn’t want to be rewarded!” His eccentric allegations also included that I had used his electricity and garage for 3 years, ‘who was going to pay for that?’ I was the worst person that he had ever dealt with throughout his entire life; he continued to rant irrationally forcefully stating that I had insinuated that ‘he’ was in fact lying, particularly regarding the circumstances surrounding the removal of the car. This specific indictment is an enormous slight on his personal character, but even more, a ‘no go area’ in any argument, as he has always significantly cherished and vigorously defended his honesty, his word, his ‘parole’.

Chris was becoming increasingly out of control, he suddenly snapped, proceeding to throw his pint of lager over me; this was his first ‘sortie’, followed immediately by the threat to give me a smack, also stating, that ‘he had held back because he was so furious that he could quite as easily have smashed the glass in my face. I instantly realised that he was indisputably capable of this violent act even though I had never before witnessed such absurd, hostile behaviour; the physical threats were genuine. I suppose he equally felt that I could also be capable of such an angry response. I was not even close to this level of fury; I was confused at his sudden rage, the extreme intimidation, rapidly escalating into “If you don’t shut up, I shall take you outside and fuckin’ kill you”   

To be continued...

Confrontation, accusation.

Sat. 23.07.11. I have returned early from France to support my mother; dad is really ill. He has been admitted to 2C ward at Whiston Hospital with suspected pneumonia. The visit today wasn’t pleasant as he was bed ridden with all the relevant tubes fitted that will intravenously provide strong antibiotics and the necessary fluids to give him a fighting chance.

Late in the afternoon I welcomed a few scoops in the Oak before returning home to enjoy my de-frosting ‘Spag’, real comfort food. The ambiance was jovial, enjoying Wigan Rugby league win an exciting encounter against Warrington: but, regrettably the delight of the victory was overshadowed by a verbal attack by Chris regarding his dismay at my, in his belief, treacherous act of driving the car down to France without him or Colin trying it out before I left. “I cannot tell you how much I have felt cheated  and disappointed that you didn’t bring the car up to my house so that we could test it, you are the most distasteful person that I have ever met, everyone else thinks so too, you promised to bring the car on Monday or Tuesday but you didn’t, you were going to make a grand departure from the Oak but you came down on your own, taking photographs: I have never been as let down with anybody as you, your are a fuckin’ shit, a pathetic, selfish, lying turd, the biggest arsehole in the world!!”

I tried to explain that I had been expecting a call regarding Colin and yourself taking the car out for a run but it never came, I assumed that you had changed your mind. Again I defended my stance reminding Chris that it had been difficult dealing with the progress of the project over the past 18 months for various reasons. Mistakenly, I tried to explain that I had also on many occasions attempted to encourage him to become involved after ‘he’ wanted the car removed from the garage. “You needed to finish your kitchen; Rachel also wanted the space to store her office furniture before taking over her new premises?” But Chris countered with “I never wanted the car removed until it was totally finished: I am really getting annoyed now!” During these totally unfounded, aggressive exchanges I endeavoured to explain, on at least three opportunities,  that I had greatly appreciated everything he had done but that he had seemed disinterested for the past 2 years: my feelings were he had moved on, wanted to get on with other things, he had had enough. But this was not accepted, my view of the situation was on a direct collision course with his. 

To be continued...

Home to St. Martin

Once on our way the now ‘plan B’ was to either follow the source of the Seine eventually picking up the A6 at Dijon, which is much the prettier route or to follow the D944 towards Beaune; still a picturesque run but much more direct, aiming then to pick up the A5 south of Auxerre then proceed down to Beaune. The weather together with our good fortune with the clutch made the decision easier; the D944 became the obvious choice. 

We had two enforced stops determined by the rain, the first being just outside Tonnere and the other on the outskirts of Vermenton. With the sun trying break through the clouds driving a further 10 kilometres we soon joined the A6 towards Chalon sur Soane arriving at 6.30; we even had time to pick up groceries at ‘Geant’, for our well earned evening meal, driving to St. Martin by 7.30pm. Apart from the trauma of the clutch the Burlington had not faltered, offering a smooth, trouble free ride. 

I can now look forward to many gentle runs in the wonderfully dramatic countryside of south Burgundy.

The second leg of the journey

Mon.18.07.11. The weather forecast is even worse than the day before with storms, accompanied by strong winds throughout the whole of France, but Tuesday appears even more dreadful: for that reason we have decided to try to reach St. Martin du Tartre tonight instead of another proposed stop at Bar sur Seine.

The weather again is major factor for the programmed route. The autoroute is the favourite passage given the multitude of ‘aires’ which we can dive in for cover.

The spray was a problem but the empty roads meant that we could avoid most of the kickback from the endless 4 wheel drive monsters that even the French have embraced. All was well until we left the A26 south of Troyes to connect with the D944 which would take us to Tonnere then over to Beaune.

As we pulled into the ‘gare de peage’ I discovered that I did not have clutch. There was little or no pressure. I bumped the car off to the car park to take a look. I quickly discovered to the back and right hand side of the bell housing the clutch pivot pin had vibrated loose. 

The call to the breakdown service in the UK proved surprisingly profitable. They then got in touch with a local ‘corraserie’ who would be with us in 30 minutes. Anthony, my connection for ‘Equity Red Star’ called back to reassure us that the guy was on his way. If the vehicle could not be fixed by the roadside he was instructed to take it to his workshop, find us a hotel room, issue us with a rental vehicle, get us to our destination or even back to the UK. 

As promised the French engineer pitched up in the 30 minutes that was promised. Originally he wanted to tow the car away but when I pointed out that the pivot pin had worked loose he returned from his truck with a ‘flat head’ screwdriver. Fortunately he was able to push the clutch plates back and reintroduce the pin. We had been tremendously lucky on both counts: one that the pin had not been lost on the autoroute and that the job was simple not requiring the engine to be ripped out.  

On French soil

Sun.17.07.11. Leaving Gemma and the boys at 8.30am the poor weather down to Dover was again avoided: we were met by sunshine on the docks at 10.48, but luckily by the time we were boarding at 11.30 we managed to escape the onset rain that was arriving quickly from the west. The boat was fully loaded, this at first seemed unusual; the number of crossings made this year when it has been quiet had become the norm but, it is after all holiday time. 

The skies upon arrival at Dunkerque around 3.30pm were black, the wind blew, the rain followed. After a few enforced stops we made our way on the free autoroute the 80 kilometres to Lille, suffering the spray from larger vehicles plus the dipping temperatures. Just north of Cambrai the storm burst open, we were forced to stop.

It had been a tough journey but luckily we had no trouble finding the Hotel Florence at St. Quentin by 6.30. 

A suggestion from ‘Maria’ the hotelierre encouraged a room change, an upgrade to a 50 euro spacious double room with newly refurbished bathroom and decoration: ‘batiment B room 17’. The town of St. Quentin was a revelation, a large open ‘Place de Marie’ bordered by impressive civic buildings, smart retail stores and restaurants. We sat down in the sunshine to moules et frites at the ‘Bistro Univers’ for 10.60 euros.

With wine the total bill was 44 euros, the sun by now had retreated behind the town hall, wearily but heartened by the food we made our way back to the hotel.

The Burlington had past another test, the town was a genuine discovery, the hotel another successful find in the so called ‘dull’ north. 

After 5 years of build the run begins

Sat.16.07.11. Today is ‘D’ day, I need to drive down to Walton, following Gemma, Jo, Sam and Alex. Their brief visit, to see dad in the Stewart assessment centre Peasley Cross, this weekend lifted everyone’s spirits. The boys were wonderfully active not at all fazed by dad’s gaunt appearance. By late afternoon the relentless rain had stopped and I felt that it would be the best opportunity to set off for the south of England.

The Burlington is ready, after 5 years of toil, to make the inaugural trip to France. I feel subdued hardly elated as the project has somewhat fizzled out. Chris has shown total indifference, which I still cannot fathom, I still promote my blog but magazine interest has faded, there is not a publisher in sight. Nevertheless, the trip will go ahead at approximately 3 pm, without fuss or even a send off from the Oak. The poor weather has become a worrying problem. 

It is impossible to drive in the rain without wipers or side protection. The first part of the journey must be achieved if ‘Dover’ is to be reached for the 12 noon ferry crossing on Sunday. I am in the hands of the ‘Gods’.

‘Mileage on the Burlington is 1805klms: I needed to wait until 3.30 before setting off for Walton. Gemma, Jo, Sam and Alex had left around 10.00am. The weather for the day was forecast has being grim but I managed to avoid the rain- the worst had passed. 

The Burlington ran smoothly at 90klms all the way down the M6, M42, M40, M25, to junction 13 the A30 for Staines. There had been no holdups, 2 fills of gas. The anxiety of the inaugural journey all left behind I felt relieved but also elevated arriving at 7.30. It had been a very smooth ride.

The dry, wet run

Sun.10.07.11. On Saturday at the Oak I approached Chris with the suggestion that I could pick him up on Sunday morning to simulate a photo shoot outside the pub to simulate the beginning of the run through France. I had previously confirmed with David that there would not be any local ‘Church’ traffic at 10am so the coast would be clear to stage the shots. On Sunday, I called around 9.30 but he declined the offer, nevertheless I drove up to Westmead to show him the freshly polished vehicle, possibly for the last time. 

Typically, Chris mentioned that he and Colin would like to go out in the car Monday or Tuesday; obviously I agreed but reminded him of the final tasks that I had planned before departure on Saturday. I had no sooner left when I was swamped by a fierce thunderstorm, but luckily found some shelter under trees on Green lane. Because I had been polishing the car to death I had not re-fitted the tonneau. In an attempt to prevent the rain damaging the carpets and leather I used anything that I could lay my hands on to cover as much as I could but with little success. Top tip, never use the car without a tonneau. 

When the downpour subsided I limped back to Marylebone with the problem of sodden upholstery.

The service undertaken by Derek was carried out on Tuesday as scheduled: the gearbox oil levels verified by Wednesday. I had cut an access hole for the filler plug but his proved useless as once the protective cover in the engine bay was removed it was easily checked. The snag list has been completed along with another G3 ‘cut’ and a wax glaze, nuts have been tightened, the carpets dried.

I have not heard from Chris all week; I had made both Monday and Tuesday afternoons available but he had not called to confirm either of the dates.

3rd. Mot: French TGV

 

             July 2011

Tues.05.07.11. I returned from France two weeks ago via the TGV: a great trip costing only £70. My father has been admitted to the shithole observation unit at Leigh: a thoroughly uncaring place that should be torched. After suffering for 6 days he was transferred back to the Stewart ward at Peasley Cross: a much better place where he will receive appropriate care; but the long term prospects appear grim. The likelihood of him returning home is remote.

But, the car is running very well, we are experiencing good weather which enables me to rack up ‘good’ miles. At the moment there are 1735 klms on the clock. I need to organise a premature MOT, an oil change plus a thorough check of other basic functions of the vehicle. With only nine days remaining I am also reminded that I need to record the more recent developments with additional photos and at some point I must at least look at the possible route down to Burgundy. Since his earlier eagerness, Doctor Dave, who back in June planned to follow us down, has not mentioned the trip: an unnecessary complication and given the present circumstances a blessing.

Chris still displays the same hot and cold approach; at one time being very enthusiastic and then blasé. I continue to furrow my own path. Lesson learned

Weds.06.07.11. The car has completed its third MOT at Robinson and Douglas. Since the previous ‘ticket’ I have only travelled a further 800 klms. The odometer read 1738 klms. I have prepared a mental list of minor repairs; including locking nuts on the seat runners, a stainless washer on the overdrive switch, spacers on the luggage rack, some leather treatment on the seats has been essential. I also need to purchase the relevant products to complete a service, the head torqued down and any other checks that Derek can make. I cannot help but think that Chris will jump back on board but realistically time is running out for him to contribute: I would prefer to personally organise most of these tasks this week leaving the final week for ‘hidden’ snags.

The simple pleasures of progress

Sun.08.05.11. The new ‘Minilite’ wheels have been fitted to the Burlington. This is not just another cosmetic addition but the new Avon tyres should improve the handling drastically. The rain has arrived so maybe the test will take place tomorrow. Down at Oak I have informed the Doc about my intention to take the car over in July. I have left the question of if he wants to make a ‘deal’ out of it quite open? The momentum has faded but resurrecting interest could be possible, if there was a ‘will’. 

I also mentioned that I was getting very mixed signals from Chris who often appears indifferent to the entire project. “I don’t know how to include him; sometimes he is enthusiastic, other times almost angry.” 

Mon.09.05.11. During a pleasant morning I was able to run the Burlington with the new wheels and tyres. It was cautious, a few country lanes balanced against a windy motorway: nevertheless the ride does appear to be a ‘tad’ softer, slightly spongy but plenty of grip. 

The motorway miles reinforced the necessity for greater protection, certainly for longer journeys. The full folding screen must be returned to the car along with some research regarding deflectors.

A trip to Life’s Motors revealed that John has actually retired nine months ago, but, Graham still remains. I had thought that John was a founder member of the garage but he had only worked there for eleven years whereas it was in fact Graham who began as a schoolboy 50 plus years ago. 

At first he was reluctant to lead me to the inner sanctum, the ‘used spares room’. But after a little persuasion we were quickly trawling through the shelf containing ‘Perspex Wind Deflectors’. Not only did he offer two but four along with six brackets, a variety of nuts and bolts plus instructions how they could be modified to fit my screen. I also noticed a box of wing mirrors, probably again ‘used’, but looking brand new. He selected two particular fine examples to add to my cache. “How much?” I begged, “Let’s call it £20.00” returned Graham: yet another incredible deal from Life’s.

After gathering the screen from Marylebone I returned home to make the relevant adjustments to the wind deflectors: which only meant drilling a pair of holes to accommodate the retaining screws. Fortunately it was not necessary to cut a larger ‘semi-circular hole’, previously suggested by Graham, to avoid the knurled fixing bolt. Today has been refreshing, productive, stress free!

Tues.10.05.11. The larger folding screen has been fitted along with the Perspex wind deflectors. The wing mirrors have proved a little more difficult to locate. Normally fixed on the doors this has proved difficult due to the natural curve of the ‘door less’ body tub. The alternative, close to the screen mechanism, seems over fussy, cluttering the entire area. As a result they remain in the box until such time a solution can be found.

A short test drive proved that the addition of the screen plus the deflectors is a definite improvement; significantly cutting out road noise as well as much less buffeting from the swirling winds. The prospect of being able to drive ‘bigger’ miles is a definite advantage, particularly for the journey through France.