Just a Quiet Holiday
There's nothing like a peaceful break when you've been working hard. Jock also sent me this tale:
On one occasion we decided to do a bit of skiing in Austria. We set out in my little car, a Morris Minor, and having crossed the Channel we stayed the night in Brussels. Next morning was a bit foggy but we set off taking it in turns to do the driving. All of a sudden a Citroen loomed out of the fog on the wrong side of the road and smacked into us. Barny was driving and I was thrown out of the car and the last thing I remembered was "what a stupid way to die". I recovered consciousness to find Barny arguing with the Belgian Police and a couple of French girls who made eyes at the Police so that their story was given priority over ours. Anyway, after what seemd ages my little car was taken to a local garage and we bundled our kit into a taxi which took us to the nearest railway station. All I can remember is that my left leg didn't half hurt and I had a huge bump on the side of my head. Somehow we got a train/trains to Igls in Austria. Barny was most solicitous and kept me full of alcohol hence the vagueness of details. In retrospect alcohol was probably the worst thing I could have had but in the event it didn't do me any lasting harm. Anyway we skiied away for a fortnight of great fun and eventually returned to UK in one piece. Some weeks later I picked up my car in Folkestone all repaired. What I didn't discover until much later was that the Belgian Police had held Barny responsible for the accident and the court had fined him £100. He had a Triumph TR2 sports car which went like the wind.
It's just as well Jock managed to survive this little lot, because he went on to become no less a personage than Air Chief Marshal Sir Jock Kennedy, as I discovered when I went looking for him on the Internet. Had Dad known about his old friend's success, he would have been absolutely delighted for him. "About bloody time they put somebody decent in charge!", he would have said.
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