To such an extent, truth be told, that he once drew in a sleuth to track it down, with no good fortune. “Such a disgrace,” says Mason insightfully. “My mum and father towed it home for me with our Mk 2 Jaguar, Mum driving the Jag and Dad in the Austin — I simply had a temporary permit. Be that as it may, one day I drove it to Beaulieu and it recovered the distance there and!”
His longing is tempered by the memory of all the times the Chummy remained outside his home in Hampstead Garden Suburb holding up to be altered — and those fixes were not generally of an expert standard.