Footnotes From France 2

Where did the day go yesterday?  Sat completely absorbed by the job in hand and suddenly it was 6.30pm aka ‘wine o’clock’!  While the sun beats down on the beautiful green countryside, it is deliciously cool in this stone cottage, and my lovely friends have made sure I want for nothing.  I am very fortunate to have been afforded this opportunity, and owe them a big debt of gratitude (if not a big debt of dinner before I leave!)

Yesterday I wrote some more pages and then set about cataloguing and filing the huge amount of scanned documents I have amassed.  Since I began this ‘marathon’ to research the Marathon, I am astonished at how much material I have been able to gather.  In 2012, ‘hoarding’ seems to have become a dirty word, but all I can say is I am deeply thankful that so many of the extraordinary men and women with whom I have spoken or emailed have ignored this ‘lifestyle’ directive and kept archives, files and boxes of press cuttings, photographs, letters and assorted memorabilia from their adventures across the world in 1968.  Yesterday I was sorting through scanned files of press cuttings from a host of international newspapers – India, Hong Kong, Australia, and the USA.  While I was already aware of how extensively the British and Australian press covered the Marathon during 1968, yesterday I realised the Indian press were also extremely enthusiastic and committed to reporting the passage of cars and crews through India to Bombay.  I even came across a cutting from a Hong Kong newspaper which feverishly reported that a British car had ‘gone missing’ in the Outback, and at the time of going to press on December 16^th, no so trace had been found!  One can only hope that the families of Messrs. La Trobe, Chesson and Warner were spared this particularly alarmist headline in the week before Christmas 1968.  Needless to say, all was well in the end – the British Volvo was swiftly located and its crew found safe from harm, although as the car was beyond repair, their dream of crossing the finish line in Sydney was dashed.

And so today I shall continue to immerse myself in that thrilling period from 1968, while various activities go on around me – the sound of bailing echoes across the fields, mowing and strimming are underway, and above it all, bird song fills the air.  This part of the world is quite stunning, and I can see why so many arrive and never leave again!

Happy days…