France 1986

1985 turned out to be the last full family holiday - in 1986 The Brother was 20 and presumably didn't fancy the coach trip all the way down through France to Port Grimaud in Provence, just across the bay from St Tropez. I really don't recommend doing it by coach from London - a mere 818 miles according to Google Maps - many, many hours for a bored teenager with just a Sony Walkman and a limited supply of tapes and batteries (the only album I can recall is Suzanne Vega's first one, but given that most of the photos from the holiday show me wearing Marillion t-shirts, I suspect Script for a Jester's Tear was in there as well). The parents went on a day trip to Monte Carlo (which I skipped - no idea why!), with vast plumes of smoke from forest fires filling the sky. I remember them describing the central reservation of the autoroute smouldering from where...
Read More

Monaco

In 1962, just for a change, my dad didn't go to Le Mans. Instead, Bill and he went to Monte Carlo for the Grand Prix. Did they fly? No. They made a proper petrolhead trip of it. First up, they drove to Germany (what in those days would have been West Germany, to be precise) for the Nurburgring 1000km. Then they drove down through the Alps to Monte Carlo, watched the Grand Prix, and then drove back up through France, via Arles, the Gorges du Tarn, Le Mans (OK, so he went there, but not for the 24 hour race this time) and then back to Calais. Not something you see every day - a racing car (Formula Junior - the precursor to Formula 3) parked at the side of the road, between a couple of oh-so-French vans. One of the most iconic Formula 1 cars - the Sharknose Ferrari 156, driven here by Phil Hill. Jack Brabham in a Lotus-Climax 24, in Casino...
Read More