Travelling with Grampy was always a bit of a military affair, packing up the car with the usual provisions – tea, cheese sandwiches, your suitcases and then the Grampy provisions – blankets, a torch, a spare torch, wellington boots, spare raincoat, camping chair, more blankets, a hammer, other useful implements from the back place (I expect he would have loved to have taken the kitchen sink if he had half the chance).

One year about 20 years ago, he took us to Portland to stay in the caravan and we spent a glorious week wandering the hills and cliffs with Scruffy (2). On the way home, we drove well into the dusky evening with Grampy’s one ‘good’ (debatable) eye still able to follow the road and as we came up the 303, about 30 metres from the turn for Bulford, we heard a ‘oh sh*t’, felt a sharp left pull to the left and all said our hail marys! Always a colourful journey with Granddad but you always got there in one piece!