Leav­ing the EU

This England - - Post Box -

VAN DEN HEUVEL, BRIS­BANE, Sir: It was fan­tas­tic news to learn that your coun­try has made a brave de­ci­sion to leave the EU. I be­lieve as a keen reader of your pub­li­ca­tion, that the qual­ity of your ed­i­to­ri­als, the mag­nif­i­cent por­trayal of your rich his­tory, the ar­tic­u­late way in which the ar­gu­ment that Eng­land should not be be­holden to the EU kept alive the con­ver­sa­tion and de­bate.

By keep­ing all this alive, whilst pro­vid­ing in­ter­est­ing and in­for­ma­tive sto­ries and ar­ti­cles, you have been proven cor­rect over the many years of po­litely stat­ing the case tire­lessly.

Even though I live in Aus­tralia, what you did was awe­some, at times it takes courage not to lose hope. Clearly the Bri­tish fight­ing spirit is alive and well; your way of life should not be com­pro­mised or dic­tated by some face­less bu­reau­crat in Brus­sels.

I wish you all the very best, a pros­per­ous start as an in­de­pen­dent, self-gov­ern­ing coun­try. It will no doubt present chal­lenges but your pub­li­ca­tion has demon­strated again and again that there is noth­ing to fear, the rich ta­pes­try of his­tory that Bri­tain pos­sesses will see it through. — CHRIS POSTHOUWER,


Sir: What a re­sult! I was at a Bridge game when my part­ner saw the re­sult on her ipad and an­nounced this to mem­bers play­ing. Well, there were hoorays, clap­ping, high-fives and cheers! At last com­mon sense pre­vails.

Now Eng­land can be, given time, its own boss, be happy and glo­ri­ous, and in the words of Sir Win­ston Churchill, be with Europe but not of it. Eng­land was be­ing swamped by so many prob­lems, in­clud­ing busi­nesses lost, no con­trol over im­mi­gra­tion and los­ing its sovereignty. Hope­fully, this de­cline has been stemmed and I’ll live long enough to see Eng­land once again that glo­ri­ous coun­try fight­ing with the bull­dog spirit. Af­ter all, Eng­land has fought wars on its home soil and overseas for a thou­sand years, may she reign supreme again. — CHRISTINA LA PON­DER, TEA


Wal­ter J. Bourne, Bletch­ley, Mil­ton Keynes, Buck­ing­hamshire:

The car (see above) is a 1936 Y type Ford 8 hp, regis­tra­tion num­ber CXK 418. It was my pride and joy dur­ing the early years of my mar­riage in the 1950s. The car was black and fin­ished in what I think was called in those days “stove enamel”. It shone like a mir­ror, a beau­ti­ful hard-coated paint that seemed ever last­ing. The car was on the dealer’s fore­court priced at £65.

My wife and I trav­elled for many thou­sands of miles in it, it served us re­ally well, it added a new di­men­sion to our lives. I had pre­vi­ously had a cou­ple of mo­tor­cy­cles as our means of trans­port.

Com­pared to mod­ern-day cars and mo­tor­ing, driv­ing the Ford was quite an ad­ven­ture, if some­what “hairy”! It had rod brakes, no hy­draulics in those days, mean­ing the harder you pressed the brake pedal, the less ef­fect it had as the rods just bent down­wards and did not ap­ply any more brak­ing pres­sure. Even more hi­lar­i­ous, the wind­screen wipers worked from the ex­haust man­i­fold, which meant the harder the car’s en­gine was work­ing, for in­stance go­ing up hills, the wipers ceased to work! Imag­ine that with rain pour­ing down. Happy mem­o­ries though of many sea­side hol­i­days in that old jalopy!

Dun­can Adams, Dur­ban North, South Africa:

Please may I in­tro­duce “Lady Fiona Rab­bitVacu-um” (see above). She was named af­ter the char­ac­ter (played by Jo Ken­dall) in the hit ra­dio se­ries “I’m Sorry, I’ll Read That Again”. My par­ents bought Lady Fiona for me in 1967 when I passed my test. She was a young­ster of some six years. How I loved that car. With my brother’s help we fit­ted flash­ing in­di­ca­tors to re­place the traf­fi­ca­tors, and Maserati air horns to ter­rorise the pen­sion­ers of Wor­thing where I lived! Sadly, Dad saw a (solid-roofed) Morris 1000 flip over when snow was fall­ing. “If you were in Fiona with no roll-bars, you would be killed,” he said. I was made to sell Lady Fiona and bought an Austin 1100 — “Kal­likrates”.

I am pleased to read that I am not alone in nam­ing my cars. Each has a per­son­al­ity. My brother is the pas­sen­ger in the picture. I am wear­ing the snazzy hat!

Ian Hol­lands, Lang­ham, Es­sex:

My first car was a four-year-old Ford Con­sul Mark 1 that my new wife and I bought af­ter my ar­rival in what was then North­ern Rhode­sia (now Zam­bia) as a cadet District Of­fi­cer. It cost £275 and served us well in ar­du­ous con­di­tions for three years, never once let­ting us down. The tops of the bench seats had cracked and faded in colour from ex­po­sure to the hot sun and so my wife made an­ti­macas­sars, giv­ing the car an ex­cep­tion­ally el­e­gant ap­pear­ance. Its long­est sin­gle jour­ney was from Kalomo to Aber­corn (Mbala) and back, a round trip of over 1,700 miles, nearly all on “dirt” roads.

The picture shows K6489 in De­cem­ber 1958 at the Chambeshi Pon­toon, where the last shots in the Great War had been ex­changed just over 40 years be­fore, on 13th Novem­ber 1918.

Alan Poole, East Pre­ston, Sus­sex:

We were rather for­tu­nate as we had been mar­ried a few years be­fore we started mo­tor­ing and were able to buy a Hill­man Minx Con­vert­ible as our first car. We were liv­ing at Rowhedge, near Colch­ester, on the River Colne and the pho­to­graph (see be­low) shows “Lucy” (our car is al­ways known by that name!) at the river­side on a fine day. In 1961, this was mo­tor­ing at its most plea­sur­able. No jug­ger­nauts, fewer cars, no seat belts and driv­ing in Es­sex and Suf­folk is a fond mem­ory. We only had “Lucy 1” for two years; the needs of older rel­a­tives meant a change to a four-door sa­loon, but the Minx was truly worth hav­ing.

Rodger Gib­son, Aus­tralia:

I bought my first car (see above) in 1958, while I was still 17. It was a 1938 Singer Su­per 10, which I bought from a dealer in Roe­hamp­ton for the princely sum of £35.00. At that time cars were in great de­mand and this one was very cheap; I soon found out why.

The first day I had it, the bat­tery went flat. The sec­ond day the ex­haust fell off. The third day the car­bu­ret­tor fell in two. Oil in the coolant and coolant in the oil, were reg­u­lar oc­cur­rences. The volt­age reg­u­la­tor over­heated and set fire to the bulk­head in­su­la­tion. I had smoke stream­ing out of both low­ered front win­dows as I drove along the M40 in Chiswick un­til I could turn off and deal with it.

A brake pipe blew off (hand­brake never did work), the re­sult was hit­ting the back of a Green­line bus right out­side Eal­ing Com­mon sta­tion, af­ter which both head­lights shone straight up!

I kept the car for about two years; I did about 30,000 miles, at about 30mpg, in spite of driv­ing it hard. I learned a lot about cars very quickly! When I had fin­ished with it, sur­prise, sur­prise, it went for scrap.

H.A. Watkin, Paign­ton, Devon:

I bought my first car in 1960 when I was a young po­lice­man in Bishop’s Stort­ford, Hert­ford­shire. It was a lovely lit­tle Austin A35, colour Speed­well blue, cost­ing £365, bought with all my Pre­mium Bond sav­ings. The regis­tra­tion num­ber was 7265 NO, I had no prob­lems with it although I knew sooner or later I would need a new en­gine. The day came, two years later, when my girl­friend de­cided we needed a big­ger car. I re­placed the en­gine with a new Gold Seal cost­ing £50 and sold it for £300. I was sad to re­place it with an Austin Fa­rina.

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