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no one said it would be easy

right through to 1963. The two BSAs looked magnificent together, with their lineage so clearly displayed, they looked like a mother and daughter on an outing. I am not quite sure why we didn’t consider the B33 for the big adventure being as she was newer, had a more developed engine and far superior suspension … but we didn’t.

The New Forest episode sits in family folklore as ‘what might have been’. It started well enough with a pretty mundane ride in the sun from North London to Southampton and beyond. It started to unravel when we attempted to check into a camp in the forest. I’d experienced the oddities of British campsites on a previous south coast adventure in the black cab, with another iteration of mates. We’d been turned away from numerous camps because we didn’t have children. “We’re a family camp” was the oft-repeated refrain. When finally a paddock for the infertile was found, a quiet night followed with the proprietor telling us she’d never, ever had any trouble and laughed at the main-stream paranoia of the resort areas.

This time, an even more bizarre scenario played out.

“Have you got your own toilet?”

We looked around in mock amazement, patting the meagre luggage whilst uttering suitable inanities.

Roly in action in the al fresco workshop in front of the flat.