Danny makes Preparations for Departure
Niel and Amelia Ker, whom I'd last seen some nine years before, looked us up (Iris had met them only once briefly, in Mablethorpe). He'd come up to Manby, as interpreter for some visiting Russian VSOs to the Empire Flying College. Apparently the Russians were highly amused by the Lincolns, viewing them as museum pieces - Niel tried to save our faces by insinuating that we only kept a few for sentimental reasons, much like the Navy's "Victory".
He'd just bought a bungalow in Littlehampton - only a stone's throw away along the coast, having just left, or being in the process of leaving the RAF. Since last seeing him he'd completed his Habbaniya tour as a Russian R/T monitor, followed by two flying tours: the first on Swifts (he wasn't very impressed) and a second on Canberras in RAF(G) (Sqdns not known). His only tale that I remember concerned his last IRT on these.
The examiner had given him an "Unusual Position" at 25,000 ft. Niel managed to screw this up so comprehensively that their combined efforts only recovered the Canberra at 8,000, at which point they were thinking of abandoning ship. Needless to say, he did not get his I/R, this in turn would not endear him to his Sqdn C.O., but whether that influenced his decision to leave I do not know.
But the purpose of mentioning him is to introduce what he'd brought home with him. At that time, the name Peugeot was hardly known at all in Britain; when two owners met on the road they would exchange flashes of friendly recognition. I tried Niel's car (a 403): it was an absolute revelation.
To be fair, anything would have been a revelation after a 20-year old pre-war specimen which was showing its age in spite of the full mechanical overhaul that I'd given it five years earlier. "Mickey" had served us faithfully and well, I reckoned we'd put on another 50,000 miles and it must now be into six figures (an extraordinary mileage for a humdrum family saloon of the period).
But the 403 was out of this world. Never had I driven anything which rode so well, held the road so well, was so comfortable, steered so precisely and had such powerful brakes. To my mind, it would still stand comparison with today's mass-market cars. It was to be the best car of our lives. The decision was made at once: Mrs D. chose the colour (dove-grey).
Lloyd's Bank in Liverpool - I'd stayed with them since 1948 - played ball. I think the 403 came in at a basic £520 (half the UK price). To this I added £20 for a set of the very attractive wheel trims standard on the insanely overpriced ragtop (TV "Columbo" ran a shabby one of these). The RHD models had a sunshine roof, I would have liked one, too, but for some reason they were not an option on the LHD (I suppose the French reckoned the sun never shone on perfide Albion, anyway, so there would be no demand). My final extravagance was £30 for a "Coupleur Jaeger" (much more about this later, if Mr Moderator will allow).
The bill came to £570, plus a few pounds for rail freight Sochaux/La Garenne, (for I arranged to pick the car up in Paris from the Champs Élysées showroom), and a tank of petrol. Lloyds paid Peugeot (UK) Ltd in sterling, everyone was happy, my loan would (hopefully) be paid off over three years.
Now the run-down started, and the radar rest caravan became a hive of industry at night. For I had to turn my meagre woodworking skills to the task of making open-frame crates for the pram, the Hoover Twin-Tub (these would go out to Germany) and the Winged Wheel (to be stored with our things back home). Of course, when the time came, only the Wheel itself, its appurtenances, and the saddle and front wheel were crated: the old 'grid' was scrapped.
I had my trusty Black & Decker, and bought a set of "Everest" (?) wood drills (these must be somewhere in the garage still, if only I could find them). The "bit" end is flat, shaped as a silhouette of the appropriate screw size, so you take out bore, counterbore and countersink in one operation. Armed with these, about a mile of 2"x 1" planed softwood and a million No.8 screws (or at least it felt like that), the job went on apace, occasionally interrupted by some tiresome pilot wanting a GCA.
Even on the day watches, my spare time didn't go to waste, and I'll explain in my next.
Until then, Goodnight,
Danny42C.
No time to waste !
Last edited by Danny42C; 14th Oct 2013 at 16:50.
Reason: Typo.