All day long I seem to have been channeling Mike Reid.

I blame it on the van we hired today.

“Remember it’s long wheel base so allow more room on corners. And it’s 2.8 meters high. You’re not going anywhere with a height restriction are you ?”, said the man behind the desk.

Up until now hiring a van for a day had been easy.

Turn up. Present driving licence which is, according to the hire form, twenty two years old and looks like the Dead Sea Scrolls. Pay money. Collect keys.

Obviously my face was looking a little concerned at all these new restrictions. “It will fit under a petrol station awning”, he said helpfully. I wondered about the local dump, the yellow bar and warning sign.

Fortunately driving the van proved not to be an issue and I spent all my time telling K to look out of the window and over the hedgerows as new fields, houses and gardens revealed themselves to us from our newly elevated position.

The only problem I seem to have had is talking all Cockerney and shouting “Oi Oi” at passing fellow van drivers.

Leaving it out !