My Son Nicholas found himself in Guildford last evening and telephoned me an invitation to Dinner, I dismissed his thought of him taking a train to me and was soon in my trusty Car.
I now own one of those things you stick to the windscreen which, to my amazement speaks!. I bought her to help me to find the R.N. Club at Portsmouth but although I read the nine word
instructions over and over, not a squeak did the lady make, I took her to my old pal, Peter Jackman and after clicking a button only fifty times he had the gadget ready to Drive.
Triumphantly I drove to the Portsmouth Club, a nightmare of that City’s Topography. After a fine Christmas Lunch I regained the Car, clicked the button another fifty times, not a word would the
magic voice speak, I followed the “Out of City” signs and was soon back to the Motorway.
I sped to Guildford arriving there about 6pm, in the traffic mayhem I found myself at the wrong end of a one way street. A foreign gentleman approached and No he did not know this Hotel, wait
said I , I have this contraption on the back seat; he leapt at its throat with both hands and have pressed the buttons again only fifty times said Goodbye (in almost perfect English)….the Woman
told me to turn around and go the other way, I did and without too much trouble found the Hotel, found the Reception Desk, found a tall foreign gentleman and with the greatest amount of
confusion the gentleman found my Son.
It was a wonderful evening in one of these American’esque Hotels, there were at least six of these tall Floor Walkers to be seen in Reception and Dining area all of them in dark suits and
wearing these daft pointed toes (Sinbad) shoes. The Waitress who served us was a middle aged Lady prim and helpful, the food was good, everything went very well….my Son leant over and took
the Salad off of my plate eating every morsel. Nicholas has lived in France now most of his life, so I forgive him.