A Classic Tale

By James Glenroy

This is the incredible tale of the life of a classic car, an MGB GT. The story starts in 1966 with its first owner, a young police officer, who has a dream. Follow the car as it transforms the lives of its fourteen custodians who for a period of time each own the flame red coloured vehicle. We travel with the owners through periods of love, death, joy and sadness. The story is based around the south of England, but we reach as far as Menorca, Devon and Scotland as the owner's lives and work take us to these wonderful places. Prepare yourself to laugh and cry as the enjoyable story unfolds, giving us a small insight into the pleasures of owning a classic car. So don't miss out, jump in, and come with us as we follow the adventures of the car's journey as it travels over forty years on life's special highway.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456774882

James Glenroy

The author is a retired police officer who now lives in Hampshire. His passion is reading, classic cars, walking, eating and drinking. He shares his life with his wife Karen and their two cocker spaniel dogs, Freddie and Elsa. This is his first novel.

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A Classic Tale

James Glenroy

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AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

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© 2011 James Glenroy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/17/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-7487-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-7488-2 (e)

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

1966

News - Harry Roberts captured after killing three policemen. Aberfan school disaster.

Price of a gallon of petrol - Five shillings and five pence

Price of a pint of beer - Nine pence

Henry woke up sweating. Even though the bedroom window was slightly open the sheet felt damp from his body. It was the third time this month that he had encountered the same dream, England to win the World Cup and still over three months before it starts. He got out of bed, pulled the curtains open and looked out on another dreary day. It had obviously been raining during the night as there appeared to be a sheen on the surface of the road. Henry’s first floor flat had a good view up and down the road, and at 6 o’clock in the morning there were just a few movements of cars and people outside.

He was starting nights that evening, and had a whole day to relax before going to work at ten o’clock. Henry walked into the kitchen, put the kettle on and got the porridge from the cupboard. Whilst he was preparing the porridge he made himself a large mug of tea with only a small dash of milk. He’d have to get himself a new mug as he noticed a large chip in the rim as he took his first mouthful. That’s something I’ll do later he thought, following a walk along the front and a bit of shopping. He took a bowl from the stand-alone larder unit and spooned the oats into the bowl, added some milk and then decision time, sugar or salt. Henry’s dad always had salt, but Henry preferred the sweetness of the sugar. He would always remember the times at breakfast as a kid, as his dad would try to talk him into putting salt on his porridge saying You’ll end up just like me. That would have been great, five foot six inches tall, fifteen stone and suffering from high blood pressure. No wonder he didn’t make sixty. He put some water back in the pan and returned it to the stove. This way, whilst he was eating his breakfast, the water would start loosening the porridge from the sides of the pan as it heated up, making it easier to wash up later on.

Henry could hear the alarm of the couple downstairs. They had only recently moved in and were both teachers at the local junior school. He had thought of being a teacher, but there was one drawback, he hated kids. He felt he had something to give to the community so decided a few years ago to become a policeman.

It was the police that attended his school, with his old neighbour, to tell him that his mum had been killed in a road accident, crossing the road whilst shopping. It wasn’t the lorry drivers fault, Mum had just walked out straight in front of it. All the witnesses had backed the driver up, but even now Henry avoided stopping lorries, as it always brought back painful memories.

His old neighbour, Mrs Johnson, had looked after him for a few days until he had gone to live with his aunt and uncle in Kent. His mum was lucky to be able to clear the mortgage when his dad died a few years previously when he was twelve years old. The flat was consequently rented out to a friend of Mrs Johnson whilst Henry was in Kent. Seven years later Henry moved back into the first floor two bedroomed flat, and started his new life by the sea in Sussex.

It was bit different to the farm in Kent where he had spent those seven years. He had been treated well at first by all the family, but after a while he felt that he was resented by his older cousins. Nothing ever was said, but there was always that underlying atmosphere that he was taking something that belonged to them. He worked hard, always making sure he had something to do. In any spare time, which on a working farm was not a lot, he would go walking, always taking one of the farm sheepdogs with him.

Two years ago when he was nineteen Henry moved back to Sussex. By then Mrs Johnson’s friend had moved away so he moved straight back into his mum’s flat that now belonged to him. It was situated quite close to the sea, not a stones throw, but then some of these new fangled catapults could work wonders.

Henry pottered around the flat for a while, and then grabbed his coat and went out. It took him some five minutes to reach the promenade and the wind was blowing straight in his face. I don’t know why I’m doing this, thought Henry, later on I’ll be getting paid for walking along here. The promenade was part of the town beat and he was always happiest working that area. The only thing that spoilt it was in the summer, as there were kids everywhere.

He walked for just under an hour and then decided to turn round. It was amazing how everything seemed different looking at it from another direction. Even the colour of the sea was greener walking back along the front. The wind wasn’t as bad now and he unbuttoned his coat as he approached the pier. He took one of the side streets before the pier and walked into the High Street. He nipped into the shop where he had bought most of the bits for the flat, and purchased four white china mugs. After they were wrapped he placed them in the small foldaway bag that he kept in his coat pocket. It had belonged to his mum and he could still remember walking behind her, struggling with the bag full up with shopping. He wouldn’t get rid of it till it broke, but it just seemed to go on forever.

I need a cup of tea now, he thought, so he quickly popped into the nearby paper shop for a Daily Mirror and then made his way to the greasy spoon on the corner of Queens Road. As he walked in the café the owners wife shouted Tea? to Henry.

Yes please, he replied, but no sugar.

He laughed as he sat down as he noticed the owners wife, Dolly, wiping clean the cups on her apron. It wasn’t the cleanest thing in the world, but she was also using the tea spoon, which was chained to the counter, to get any stubborn marks out.

He turned the mirror over to the back page and started to read the sports section. Everything was about the World Cup and whether England had a chance or not. Henry kept on thinking back to the dreams, and wondered what odds England would be to win the World Cup. Dolly brought his tea over and only managed to spill a little bit on his paper, and knowing Dolly, this was a bit of a bonus really. Many a time he had left the café with splashes of tea and sometimes food on his clothes, but the food was good, and the reason he always came back. Mind you after glancing at the top of his mug, the milk was looking a bit iffy. He spent at least half an hour reading the paper, and after finishing his tea shouted Goodbye, to Dolly and left the café.

It was midnight and Henry was patrolling the town beat. It was pretty quiet and there had been no problems at closing time at any of the town’s public houses. He was just checking the fronts of the shops for the first time that night and was nearly at the end of Kings Road, when he looked over at the new Caffyns garage, at the junction with New Road. From this distance all he could make out was something very red and shiny in the large glass windows of the showroom.

Henry crossed the road quickly and walked onto the garage forecourt. The new Caffyns garage was an impressive structure, a vast improvement on the old shabby looking garage. The renovations had been finished six months ago and had doubled its original size. There were three petrol pumps on the forecourt, and enough room in the showroom for at least five cars, with ample room to walk round each of them with their doors open. At the rear of the garage, only accessible by going round via Norman Road, was the repair centre with quite a bit of room for parked cars awaiting being worked on.

Henry stopped at the window and just stared. It was a brand new red MGB GT, looking fantastic. The lustre of the paint on the new bodywork made him speechless. What a beautiful looking car, thought Henry. He had seen MGBs on the road, but this colour just enhanced the lines of the car, and made it look very, very sexy. After ten minutes Henry decided to move on, the last thing he wanted was to be caught by Sergeant Cook staring in the window of the car showroom. He continued on his beat with his mind definitely on something else.

Back at the station later on, Henry sat in the small canteen of the police station and had a large mug of tea with his sandwiches. Sitting opposite was Bill Thompson, a constable who had been in the force for over ten years.

Do you want one of these tongue sandwiches Henry? said Bill. I’ll swap one for one of your cheese ones.

You’re always swapping your tongue sandwiches, don’t you like them?

No I don’t.

Well why don’t you tell your wife to stop making them and make something else?

I make me own sandwiches.

Henry looked at him dumbfounded and asked Bill why was he, making sandwiches with filling that he didn’t like.

The wife works at the local butchers and gets the meat cheap; it would be a shame to upset her.

With sandwiches duly swapped both men continued there meal break.

I’m surprised your wife’s not a precision engineer rather than working in a butchers shop, said Henry.

Why?

Well she’s cut this tongue so thin you can hardly taste it.

Bill started laughing then continued eating his cheese sandwich silently thinking about the cost of cheese and how expensive it was. These single lads can afford it, thought Bill, who managed most nights to change at least one round of his sandwiches.

What do you think about the World Cup Bill, do you think England can do it? asked Henry.

No I reckon they might get into the quarter finals, but that would be about it. Some of the other teams are just a bit too strong. That Portuguese team have got a player called Eusebio who every one is raving about, and if he gets going god knows what will happen, and it’s there first time in the finals so they’re going to be giving their all that’s for sure. After another bite of his sandwich Bill continued And I can’t see why England have been made one of the favourites as well as Brazil, West Germany and Italy, it’s not as if we’ve been playing well coming into the competition.

"I read in the Mirror today, that when Alf Ramsey was given the managers job three years ago, that he predicted that England would win the next World Cup."

Well he would have to say that otherwise he might not have got the job. When I was in the army I had a mate who played with Alf when he was a youngster. He said Alf was good, a bit slow, but very methodical and tactical, and always seemed to know what the opponents were doing.

I might have a bet on England; I have this feeling that there going to go all the way.

You’ve got money to burn, next thing you’ll be buying a car.

Henry laughed inside and thought to himself How right you are. Bill thought about cheese, and having a bet wondering if he could be single again, but he loved his kids too much and then again his wife wouldn’t let him.

When his break was over Henry returned to his beat putting on his cape as it had started to rain. He always wore the night badge on his helmet. It had been painted black to avoid the brightness of the shiny badge normally worn on the helmet. He looked very dark indeed and could easily stand in corners totally unobserved by members of the public, and this happened several times during the last part of his shift. What Henry liked doing was to wait till they had got passed him and then saying Good morning to them. That always got a laugh for Henry as usually the people jumped out of their skins. Another walk down the front and backs of the shops was now in order and Henry noticed nothing out of place from earlier on. At some of the more vulnerable properties Henry had placed small pieces of cotton or matchsticks across the doors to see if they had been opened, but everything was as it should be. What he never wanted was to be called back into work because he had missed a burglary on his beat. That was a real no-no.

After the shift had finished Henry spoke to his pal Norman who worked on the shift coming on earlies. This shift started at six in the morning and went through to two in the afternoon, although you always paraded fifteen minutes before your duty started. They had attended training school together at Folkestone and tried to meet up and have a beer or two as often as they could. They arranged to meet in the Golden Lion in Hope street the following Friday. They used that pub a lot as they served beer from the Harveys brewery at Lewes and their best bitter was Henry’s favourite pint.

Henry walked home and after another cup of tea went to bed. Henry dreamt of the World Cup. Young Bobby Moore, the captain lifting the cup, and being carried round Wembley stadium on the shoulders of some of the other players.

After a very quiet set of nights, where nothing of any note whatsoever happened, especially on the forecourt of Caffyns garage where Henry had spent most of his shift peering through the glass showroom windows, Henry was looking forward to his pint with Norman.

They had arranged to meet at half past seven and as it was getting close to that now Henry hurried down Hope Street towards the Golden Lion. He opened the door to the public bar and was immediately hit by the cigarette smoke as he went inside. The problem being was that it stuck to your clothes and smelt for ages. You never know, thought Henry, one day smoking will be banned in these places! Henry did not smoke, but his friend Norman did, so he couldn’t really object to sitting in a smoky pub because anywhere he went with Norman would be smoky. Norman was at the bar nursing a pint of mild, his favourite.

Do you want a pint of Harveys best Henry? he shouted.

Oh yes please, replied Henry.

Pint of Harveys best for Henry please landlord, requested Norman.

Norman always used that expression with John the landlord. He had been in charge of the pub for over eighteen months now and was doing really well. He looked after the police because he knew when he needed them they would always be there for him. The occasional free pint and a lock in every now and then certainly paved the way. Norman paid John for the beer and handed Henry his pint glass. Henry took hold of the handle and took a quick mouthful of the fresh head sitting on top of the glass.

A toast,’ said Henry, facing Norman, to Pickles the dog, without him there would be no cup to give to Bobby Moore.

Norman spluttered into his beer and said They haven’t got a chance.

Course they have, its fate.

Do you reckon Pickle’s owner was in on the scam? asked Norman.

I’m not sure, maybe the dog was just in the right place at the right time, but good for England though. Can you imagine it, first time we host the World Cup and we lose the bloody Cup.

Both men laughed and took large gulps out of there rapidly emptying glasses. Henry spotted an empty table in the corner of the bar, grabbed his pint and followed by Norman made their way across the crowded bar.

Lets sit and have a chat, said Henry, I’ve got something to talk to you about.

Henry took a long pull of his pint and started. Have you ever dreamt of something that has come true.

Norman thought for a moment and said Only in relation to getting the pants off Susan, and started laughing. Norman had been seeing Susan for just less than nine months and things were getting very serious. Susan worked at St Cuthbert’s hospital, and was a very good looking girl. There had always been a good relationship between police officers and nurses, and they had met at a dance at the nearby Butlins holiday camp. Henry always laughed at Norman’s joke when he stated that there were only two certainties in life, death and nurses. Norman told this joke quite a lot in company and Henry remembered the look on some of the nurses faces when they heard this for the first time. Mind you with Norman’s previous record, and a few of Henry’s short lived relationships this tended to be true anyway.

Henry moved a little closer to Norman and in a hushed voice said I’ve been dreaming quite a lot recently of the same dream, and it’s England winning the World Cup.

Norman looked at Henry and said You’re serious aren’t you?

Henry took another long swallow of beer. Yes very.

Blimey, I thought you were going to say that you’d fallen in love again.

Henry had a problem with women in that he would fall in love after only after a short time, only to be gutted when it didn’t work out.

I’ve had this dream most nights now, and its getting to the point where I’ve decided to put a bet on them winning.

Well I’m not a betting man, but you can put a pound on for me as well.

I was thinking of a bit more than that. I’ve seen this car in Caffyns showroom and I’ve got to have it.

It’s not that bright red MGB is it? As I was walking past the garage the other day I saw it through the window. It looks a million dollars.

I’m not even sure how much it is, but I know that I‘ve got to have it.

When Henry’s Mum died he inherited the flat, but as he was living with his relatives in Kent the rental money was being paid into his post office account which was now looking very healthy. His rent was deducted from his wages when he was working on the farm in Kent, and other than a few pints of cider at the weekend he really didn’t need any more. When he was accepted for Sussex Police, he was paid when he attended the training school at Sandgate in Folkestone, and because his accommodation and food was supplied, all he needed was beer money. He wasted a bit on that stupid ring for Helen, the woman police constable from Kent, who he fell in love with and asked to marry him. What was he thinking?

Helen was the second girl that Henry had experienced sex with. The first being Charlotte from London, who was down on the farm in Kent, hop picking. They certainly had some fun, and he was distraught when she went back home. He was quite inexperienced with the female species, and when Helen gave him the eye at the bar at Sandgate he jumped in with both feet. Henry realized that he had to take things slow with girls, and had heard the more experienced coppers talking about when you know you’ve met the right girl, as you heart starts jumping, but Henry had never felt that. His heart was jumping the first time they kissed never mind getting to first base.

Henry had just under a thousand pounds sitting in his post office account, and wasn’t touching it because his police wages were adequate to live on as it covered most things. Because he wasn’t paying rent or a mortgage he was quid’s in. He could afford to put a decent bet on England winning the World Cup and still have loads left.

Norman bought another round. When they finished that they headed off to get some chips before going home.

Are you sure about this bet then Henry? asked Norman.

Henry nodded as he had just put a large handful of hot chips in his mouth. Rather than spraying Norman with the contents of his mouth decided nodding was the best thing to do. After clearing his mouth Henry said I know you might think I’m daft, but this dream is so strong that I can’t just ignore it. This could be my only chance to buy the car of my dreams without putting myself in debt for the next few years, or blowing the money that I‘ve saved up. When they brought out the GT last year I thought it was incredible. I’ve always preferred it to the Roadster, and well wouldn’t it be great to have one of them to take the girls out in.

Norman looked bemused and said I’ll tell you one thing Henry, that’s if you buy that MGB you’ll never leave the pub without a ride if you get my gist.

Both men laughed and walked to the end of Henry’s road where they went there separate ways. I’ll catch up with you at work! shouted Norman as he turned the corner walking back to his digs, knowing that he didn’t have Susan with him tonight as she was working nights at the hospital.

Henry continued to look at the MGB when he was at work. He didn’t visit the garage off duty as he still wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. If he looked at the car at work at least he knew he could only do it one or two times a shift without drawing attention to himself. He would visit the garage very early in the morning, or late at night after it had closed. He had read in the paper that next year they were thinking of bringing in twenty four hour forecourts at some petrol stations and in some circumstances note-acceptor stations. How things move on, he thought.

Henry was on lates, the shift from two in the afternoon till ten at night. After dealing with a minor break in at the coal yard in Queen Street he found himself standing in front of Caffyns car showroom. The MGB GT had essentially the same front end, front and rear wings and doors as the MGB Roadster. The GT had a higher roof line than the Roadster so the windscreen was slightly taller to allow for this. The roof ran back in a delicate smooth curve over the doors and rear side windows before sloping down into the rear panel of the car. The GT had a large tailgate that opened up to give easy access to the large space inside. It was much bigger than the small load capacity of the Roadster. Henry could see that there wasn’t much room in the small seat area behind the driver and passenger seats, but that really didn’t bother him at all. He thought that if the back seat folded flat then that would make a much larger area for luggage etc.

Thomas Hughes, the deputy manager for Caffyns Garages was working late to try and catch up on some essential work in his office. He was just keeping his head above water in relation to the paperwork from the cars that he had sold, let alone all the other duties from his deputy role. He often worked late one night of the week until ten o’clock giving him time for a couple of pints before going home. Thomas walked along the corridor from his office and was just about to walk into the main showroom area, which had been closed since six o’clock, when he noticed a policeman standing outside the large full length glass windows looking in. Thomas watched him for several minutes and noticed he was staring at the flame red MGB GT holding centre stage in the middle of the showroom. Thomas didn’t show himself and just watched the young constable. The flame red MGB was a stunning car and had only been in the showroom for a few weeks. There had been a few tentative enquiries, but nothing solid. There just didn’t seem to be too much money around at the moment, but when you’ve got a car like that in your showroom you know that there will always be people popping in to see it. After a while Thomas saw the officer turn round and walk off. Thomas thought that he’d mention what he saw to his boss the next day, and then make a joke about having organized some private security firm for the garage.

It was now only a couple of weeks to the start of the World Cup and Henry was at home reading the Daily Mirror. He was concentrating on the sports section trying to find anything that would put him off his forthcoming bet. Henry had decided to at least bet a hundred pounds, but would increase it depending on what odds England were. He knew this was an extremely large amount of money to put on a bet, but then the MGB was an exceedingly amazing car. How else was he going to afford it? If England didn’t win then Henry would just bite the bullet and get on with life. It’s not as if he urgently needed a car as he could walk to work, but it would be nice to have one and it would do his non existent love life the world of good.

It was Henry’s day off and he decided to go and look at the car. Henry walked quickly to the garage and after peering through the window for a while decided to go in. The showroom smelt of everything new. There was a hint of leather which Henry absorbed as he walked past a few cars with there doors open en route to the MGB. The bright red paintwork was gleaming and even though new, had still been polished to a very high standard. How come you could never get that shine on a car once you’d bought it? They must have some secret ingredient, thought Henry. He stood next to the MGB and just stared at it. It was mesmerizing. It was as if the car had taken over his complete life. How come he wasn’t dreaming about the car at night though, and was still dreaming of Bobby Moore lifting the golden trophy? The doors of the car were open and Henry could see the spotless black leather interior and carpets. Henry walked round the car taking in the wire wheels and the chrome strips down the length of the car. These really set the car off with the matching chrome bumpers front and rear. Henry noticed the hinged tailgate and looking in the boot area thought that it was plenty big enough for what he wanted. A tartan blanket and a picnic basket would keep him going for a while. He saw that the rear seats were very small and only big enough for a young child, but as he hated kids he had no intention for using the seats for that purpose.

Thomas Hughes the deputy manager noticed the young man come into the showroom and did what he always did by leaving them alone with a car for a short while before moving in for the kill. Thomas walked over to the young man by the flame red MGB GT and said It’s lovely isn’t it.

It certainly is that, replied Henry.

I’m Thomas Hughes the deputy manager.

Hi I’m Henry.

Would you like to sit in?

Henry just grinned and slid into the driver’s seat as if you were putting on an old comfortable pair of shoes. Even though the leather seats were brand new they were very comfortable and gave him the support that he needed. Henry put his hands on the steering wheel and had a smile on his face bigger than the first time he’d had sex.

Henry learnt to drive with his uncle on the farm. First in an old Morris that was only used on the farm, and then progressing to his uncles pride and joy, an Austin Ruby, the first car that Henry had driven on the road. Henry had passed his test whilst living on the farm and had used one of his cousin’s cars whenever he needed one. They were fine about it, and as long as Henry put some petrol in he could use them as much as he wanted to. They owned a Morris Minor and a Wolseley. Henry had lots of fun in both of the cars. He hadn’t needed a car when he moved back to Sussex, relying on Norman to drive whenever they were going out with Susan and one of the many blind dates he found himself on. And blind sometimes he would have to be, as not all the nurses that Henry met were good looking. The old ugly stick had been waved about a bit, as far as Henry was concerned, with some of his dates.

Henry wanted a car now, and after sitting in the driver’s seat for some five minutes and not saying anything decided that the MGB GT was for him. Now all he had to do was work out how to pay for it.

Do you want to go for a test drive? asked Thomas.

I do, but not yet. I’m really interested in the car, but the money I’m expecting is not due till the end of July. I’d like to come back in a couple of weeks and test drive it then.

That’s fine, but this one might be gone by then.

So be it, I could always order one in the same colour though couldn’t I?

You could, but this car in flame red, has a bit of a special paint job, as it is a colour that MGB are thinking off starting production with. They just wanted to see how popular it is, as there are only a few throughout the country at this time, and I couldn’t give you a delivery time though.

Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it?

Thomas thought that Henry was wasting his time and didn’t think he could come up with the money.

We could talk about finance if that helps.

No there’s no need as I would be paying cash anyway, replied Henry.

Henry asked if he could have a brochure about the car and one was duly handed over by Thomas, who by now was thinking that he wasn’t going to get a sale was just a little bit bored. Thomas had been quite excited when Henry had first come into the showroom, and was thinking about ways to have spent his commission on the MGB GT. As soon as Henry had started talking about having a test drive later, and not having the money until the end of July Thomas’s enthusiasm wavered. As Henry was leaving Thomas told him that this was a lucky car as it had a guardian angel. Henry left the showroom having no idea at all what Thomas had meant.

Henry walked to the Golden Lion and into the exceedingly quiet public bar. His heart started leaping as he saw the girl behind the bar. She was being shown the art of pouring a pint by John the landlord and she was gorgeous. She was in her mid twenties and was at least five foot ten inches tall with brunette hair cut short. She was a slim build with beautiful blue eyes and breasts to die for. The plain white blouse showed them off magnificently.

Hi John, said Henry.

John looked up from pouring the pint and said Hi Henry, meet Jean she’s my niece and is the new barmaid.

Hello, said Henry with just a hint of a Leslie Phillips style greeting.

Jean laughed and asked Henry what he would like.

I’ll have a pint of Harveys best bitter please and a ham roll. Henry watched as Jean started nervously to pour the pint in the handled glass. It started well, but then began to get too much of a head on it.

Just put that down on the side Jean, said John, and get the roll and then we’ll carry on filling that pint up once the head has gone down.

I’ve got to be at work tomorrow though, laughed Henry.

After a short wait Jean handed Henry the pint and roll and suddenly Henry’s heart dropped to the floor. He had noticed on Jean’s hand when she had handed the glass to him a plain gold band. Henry was crestfallen. He looked at Jean smiled said thanks and took a seat at the end of the bar and took a long drink of his pint of bitter. Why are all the beautiful girls taken, thought Henry. He put his pint down on the bar, rearranged the stool he was sitting on pulling the brochure from his jacket pocket and started to read it. He could hear in the background John talking to Jean and heard his name mentioned with He’s one of our local policemen and he’s a really nice bloke. That cheered Henry up as he carried on reading about the MGB.

The MG logo is an abbreviation of Morris Garages, started after William Morris entered the world of vehicle manufacturing. William had started building and repairing bicycles in Oxford in the 1890’s. He then moved on into the motorcycle world and then progressed into cars under the names Morris Motors and The Morris Garage changing both later to Morris Garages. Henry read on as the brochure went through the different vehicles that MG had produced, and how in the Second World War the company took on armament work producing aircraft sub assemblies, guns and light tanks. The MGB started being produced in 1962 with the Roadster, and then last year, 1965, with the GT.

What’s that you’re reading? asked John.

Henry handed him the brochure and could see John’s eyes light up.

Nice car, are you thinking of getting one?

Just thinking at the moment, but it is a beautiful machine though isn’t it.

I’ve always wanted one of them, but in this trade I’m not sure if it would be big enough.

Henry had finished his beer and roll and having finally retrieved the MGB brochure from John got up to leave the pub. See you later then, said Henry.

Bye! shouted John and Jean. Jean’s heart had stopped beating rapidly by now, but when she first saw Henry it certainly had leapt about