It was my own fault, I should have known better. I should simply have put down my whisky glass, risen from the leather chair and walked from the roaring log fire at Asquith Towers into the deep Cotswold snow.
But when the present Mr Asquith, leaned forwards and confidentially asked me if I had heard of the Gottstein Flats I simply responded brightly, " Oh yes, Drag Racing?"
|Safe at Last|
The Great Man leaned closer, " but what if I told you I have been offered a chance to buy them? They have turned up in the effects of a warlord in the Carpathian Mountains. Why don't you come along, I could do with someone to drive the Bugatti and you could do with a little holiday."
He neglected to mention that the Russian Mafia and a Major Wargames Manufacturer were also in the market for the moulds. So it was that several weeks later I found myself wresting with the wheel of the roadster on a high mountain pass in the dead of night, while beside me grim faced and steely jawed sat Mr Asquith cradling a sub machine gun in his lap. On the back seat a bloodstained case of master figures and far below us twinkled the lights of pursuing cars full of G**** *******P copyright enforcers.
And that is why I have been too busy to write my Blog recently.
All of which was a picnic compared to working out this new Blogger system. Google permitting, more posts to follow soon.
|The Asquith Wheels|