FOTers
I had to take my Lancia to the local distributor today to check on a part I
need to cure a rear end 'clonk' (rear radius arm bushing). It's is only
supplied with the hub mounting bracket which I don't need, of course. It
has to be specially imported, of course, and will cost GBP 65 of course. I
ordered the bloody thing and drove off - intent on finding a rubber bush to
suit and canceling the order.
What to do now I thought? I was half way between my home and Folkingham
(pronounced 'Fockingham') - try saying it quickly when you've had a few
tinctures at the pub. Folkingham is a delightful, small Lincolnshire
village bordered by a disused aerodrome which was used by BRM as a test
circuit - many's the day I've spent at the circuit as a small boy when dear
old dad was testing ERA's and the V16 BRM.
Anyway, Wilkie Wilkinson ( he managed Ecurie Ecosse and later joined BRM)
lives in the village and I hadn't seen him for about two months, so I
decided to drive the ten miles or so to see how he was and share a yarn or
two.
Wilkie is 98 and lives alone, and although his daughters regularly pop in
to see him, I always pop in if I'm in the area to make sure he's OK. When
I got there I knocked on his door several times, but there was no answer. I
noticed there were two bottles of milk still on the door step (at 11.30 am)
and looking up his bedroom curtain was still closed?? I began to worry a
bit and went next door to see if his neighbor had seen him go out. He
hadn't - so now we both started to feel uneasy. I clambered up an old
wooden ladder we'd found, with several rungs missing, to see if I could see
anything through the gap in the bedroom curtains.
I was just about three quarters up when a car pulled into the drive. I
looked round and it was Wilkie in the passenger seat -having been taken to
have
his 'feet done' (pedicure). He got out of the car and, being short sighted,
didn't recognize me and bellowed in high tenor, "what the bloody hell do
you think you're doing - trying to burgle the place."
Relieved, and now more worried about how to get down the damned ladder I
retorted, "It's me and Ron you silly old bugger, you've left the milk out
and the curtains are still drawn; we thought you might have had a few too
many last night (diplomacy) - and couldn't face the stairs!!!
Wilkie retorted,"Oh, it's you you cheeky young bugger - I left before the
milkman came, take that ladder back to Ron's and we'll have a cup of tea.
Tea and several dozen laughs later, I suggested to Wilkie that, when he
goes out first thing in future, he should leave something, anything, next
to where the milk bottles are delivered so well all know when he's gone
out. He thought about it, and with a sense of humour as sharp as a needle
he said.-
" Bloody good idea - I'll leave a bottle of milk out!!!l
Paul
have a look in Wilkies the others half rotted through and decided that I
wouldn' t Wilkie is a very dapper and spry 98 year old and when anyone
arrives unannounced When I pulled into his drive
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