Well it all started in 1969. James and I (James, not Jim - I do not recall why - he was just too posh, you would never have called him Jim, or Jimmy). Anyway James suggested that he and I go on a drive in the summer. It was going to be Africa - his idea and I knew my parents would not be keen. The trouble is I did not know how to handle them properly and when (as parents did in those days) they met James' parents I had not expected the Africa bit to come out and when they came home I was told - yes to the trip - but no to Africa. (Disease, injections and all that.) So we settled for the Black Sea. James' parents bought him a new(er) car - a nice Morris Traveller - you know, the 'estate' type with wooden trims and lots of room in the back for the tent. It was all going swimmingly until James rolled the car over one day coming back from school.