Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Unrequited love finally....err....requited
As an eleven-year old schoolboy I fell in love with the new E-type Jaguar. Over the years I lusted after one, but somehow it never happened. Now, 50 years later, I finally admitted that I'm never going to buy one so I decided to treat myself and hired one for a long weekend. I persuaded a lady friend to accompany me with the promise of a tour of the leafy lanes of the south of England and a couple of nights away in historic old hotels. Friday we collected the car, a 1969 series 2 convertible in red, from central London under blue skies and unseasonable warmth. Unfortunately for us the Pope had decided to visit London that day so the whole of central London was gridlocked - it took 2 hours to travel the length of Euston road and Baker street. This did however give us a taste of things to come - virtually every other car driver and most pedestrians looked, waved and shouted approval as we crept past them, top down in the sun. I felt like a millionaire pop star; men admired me, women desired me, children wanted to be me. Of course LF reminded me it wasn't my car and burst that little fantasy bubble, but the grin didn't leave my face for the whole four days.