in the late 70’s Victor was posted back to the UK, to the Royal Military Academy. In those days it was much more often that people would hitch-hike across the length and breadth of Britain. Nowadays many employers ban their truck drivers from picking up hitch-hikers.
In the 70’s Victor would often hitch-hike from near London to the Yorkshire Dales, usually alone, occasionally with one son, aged 9, once with both sons, aged 9 and 10. The time he brought both sons with him, his luck was in. Only two lifts needed, both divorcees, wanting to rant on about their ex-wives. I think they both wanted an agony aunt, as well as three passengers. The second trucker dropped all three of us at Leeming Bar Motel on the A1(M), five miles away from Grandma.
The final stretch had to be paid for. Simple. Taxi. Twenty minutes later, three tired but cheerful males arrive in Grandma’s village. Now the fun begins. It’s 11pm. The late night Hammer House of Horror film is on. Grandma and Auntie B are watching the film.
The military training came in useful. Creeping, crouching forward, opening the garden gate slowly, father and sons approach the house. Bend down a bit more. Squat just below the living room window sill. Three pairs of eyes look at each other. The sergeant gives the nod to his two troops. Slowly three heads emerge over the window sill. Sudddenly two women jump out of their skin in their armchairs, not expecting any late night visitors at the window.
Have a scare-free day, won’t you!