This was the day we had really come for. THE CONVOY in Paris. We spent the morning with the Club shop and sold a lot. Then we had lunch and set off with maps towards the Péripherique and Avenue Foch. We really did bring things to a grinding halt. 2CVs were coming from everywhere. Eventually we set off towards the Arc de Triomphe. It was very slow progress but we made it to the Champs Elysées. We were allowed 2 lanes of the road, so for 2500 cars progress was slow. Parisians and tourists were amazed and loads of people took photographs. We got to the Place de la Concorde eventually and from there we had a route to follow. This took us up to Montmartre. The Moulin Rouge where traffic

was at a standstill. It was so slow that I could use a toilet and find Bill had only moved about 50 metres, We eventually found our way to the Eiffel Tower. We stopped for photographs and loos etc. The police were really good and turned a blind eye to casual parking etc. We then left the Eiffel Tower for the Périphique and home. All this took .... 7 hours. It was great, but maybe the route was too long.

That night there was another musical experience, a French "Bal Musée". Everyone was dancing etc. until the early hours. We were exhausted again.

Saturday

I spent the morning selling again. Bill went around taking photographs and chatting. Every journey takes twice as long you meet people all the time !

Tonight! entertainment was a light show followed by "50 hits for 50 years".

The light show was not what we expected - ask Dick & Yvette for a brilliant description. It allegedly told the story of the 2CV, but the choreography was a little lax. However they tried hard.

The 50 hits were OK up to about 1971. The we got to the French charts which were dire, so we went back to the tent and slept. (We had eaten THE birthday cake - chocolate & out of this world).

Sunday was a sad day. People were packing up and heading for home. Tim & Anny went at about 1.30, so our area was empty.

In the afternoon we went to Rambouillet. It was closed but we enjoyed a coffee and saw a bit of the countryside. The campsite was quite empty. We had a pizza & chips and went to Barry’s tent for a party. This was good - met lots of people and had some ‘nibbles’. However tiredness hit and we went back for the best night’s sleep of the meeting.

Monday was ‘home’ day. We were catching the night boat, so we had a leisurely trip to Honfleur, a lovely meal and then over the spectacular Pont de Normandie to Le Havre. An uneventful crossing meant we were back home by 8.15am.

It was a wonderful weekend - Bill has 6 rolls of film !! Next year the French National is in Le Mans 13-16 May. If you haven’t been to a foreign meeting - try this.

By 10.20am we were bound for Dover, minus Barry and Wayne. Maggie’s red & black Charleston streaked off towards the horizon, leaving the main convoy to follow at a more leisurely pace. Unversed in the "niceties" of convoy etiquette, I too lost my head, overtaking fellow Madhatters on several occasions. On arrival at Dover, I was, however, swiftly appraised of my gross faux pas ...

Much to everyone’s relief, Barry’s red Spécial, closely accompanied (tailgated) by Wayne’s "souped up" red & yellow Dolly, screeched onto the docks some ten minutes before the ferry’s E.T.D., seemingly only just avoiding a multiple pileup. Most Dramatic! Barry was, nevertheless, allegedly unflustered. As for Gloria’s state of mind? I couldn’t possibly comment ...

Once aboard the ferry, a hasty decision concerning the route ensued, this amidst a melee of unfurled maps and well thumbed map books. Two possibilities emerged. One along familiar autoroutes towards Paris’ north-eastern suburbs. The other along a newly built autoroute into the north-western outskirts of Paris. Whether the latter was accessible, remained open to question ...

Imbued with a spirit of adventure, Dave and I opted for the unknown. Meeting up with other like-minded souls on the Calais dock, we set out instead for a hypermarket! Some remarkably perceptive individual having mentioned that life’s little necessities (chocolate) would not be available for sale the following day, owing to the impending public holiday.

Ham took the helm, after Matt "Soft Tops" short-lived leadership, and ably steered our diminutive convoy towards the hypermarket of our choice. Replete with chocolate bars and newly coifed hair, we hit the road at 4.30pm.

With the more "sluggish" Madhatters to the fore (to ensure the convoy’s continued survival), we resumed our leisurely pace. A sense of relief accompanied the discovery that our prediction was well founded; the new autoroute was indeed open. Fearing further reprimand, I religiously maintained my position towards the rear of the convoy. In front of me, Maggie’s boredom was evident. Her 2CV drunkenly wobbled from side to side, as she fiddled with all manner of objects. Behind me Dave whiled away the time gesticulating out of first the window, and then the roof of his red & white Dolly.

Aeons later, having parted with 99FF to escape the boredom, John & Sandie’s lilac Spécial competently guided us through the suburban racetrack that is Paris, towards St. Quentin en Yvelines. Arriving at the "Base de Loisirs", however we encountered a slight technical hitch - the entrance was conspicuous only by its absence! Several German cars augmented our convoy, under the misguided impression that we had some sense of direction. Driving blindly around the perimeter of the Leisure Centre, we chanced upon a French contingent and successfully gained entry.

News of Barry’s alternative convoy eventually permeated through to us. Apparently, having made satisfactory progress on the autoroutes, their navigation through northern Paris went somewhat awry. Ray’s grey Ami 6 suffered a "close encounter of the automotive kind", culminating in his mounting the curb and damaging a tyre. Barry’s Spécial (evidently mindful of the Ami’s plight) subsequently staged a sympathy protest, refusing to start.

Having at last gained admission to the camp site, it was immediately apparent that space was at a premium. Compelled, as a result, to venture into seemingly "uncharted territory", some rudimentary ground clearance necessarily preceded the pitching of tents. Childish tomfoolery was to be had charging through the undergrowth, narrowly avoiding shrubs and trees. Tents were hastily assembled in the welcome illumination of 2CV headlights, and a simple supper prepared.

Once the brouhaha of encampment had subsided, two Madhatters were conspicuous by their absence. Had they succumbed to the "Bermuda Triangle" of the Leisure Centre entrance ? No. John & Sandie, together with Dave & Andy, (evidently desirous of avoiding the stigma of camping with other "limeys"), had established an exclusive camp of their own.

2CV games (incorporating the "Deu Deuch Show") at Montlhéry race track dominated Thursday’s agenda. The Madhatters were, however, singularly unsuccessful at readying themselves for the 9.00am departure. Ray alone had a legitimate excuse; owing to the "delicate condition" of his stomach. The rest of us were seemingly preoccupied with exploring our more immediate surroundings.

By late afternoon Barry had succeeded in marshalling together a group of like-minded individuals and, with due despatch, the departed in search of Montlhéry. Rumour has it that the party’s understanding of French directions failed to pass muster and that, contrary to all expectations, it wound up in a hypermarket - whether by accident or by design, presumably to race shopping trolleys ?!

Assorted search parties (Lynne and myself included) were randomly dispatched to locate Bill & Gill’s two-tone grey Charleston and Dick & Yvette’s red Spécial. Introduced en route to a myriad of 2CVGB club members, memory loss was embarrassingly immediate and all embracing ! Bill & Gill’s aspirations evidently coincided with those of John & Sandie’s party, and our highly prized space was summarily discarded in favour of close proximity to the toilets!

A subsequent expedition (comprising Dave, Heather and me) sallied forth in search of the swimming pool. Having neglected to unearth anything more chlorinated than "L’etang", we capitulated and instead perused the professional stalls and museum tent. Our ensuing attempt to fly kites was similarly abandoned due to a sudden, and annoying, drop in the wind.

After Ham’s withdrawal to the Gare du Nord (and, incidentally, yet more noodles), Maggie, Dave and I endeavoured to "strut our stuff" at the "Crazy Seventies" disco. Retreating somewhat fatigued at 1.30 a.m., Ham regaled us with stories of Paris’ public transport system, which had apparently only just delivered up Kirsty and himself !

The hour of our intrepid convoy to Paris drew nigh. Mind full of our previously sluggish admission to the campsite, it seemed rational to presume that mass evacuation would prove similarly arduous. Exercising a modicum of logic, the Macdonald’s green & white Dolly, together with my two-tone grey Charleston, beat a timely retreat towards the hypermarket. By now exceedingly weary of noodles, I for one eagerly anticipated some dietary variation !

Returning to the "Base de Loisirs" for a brisk picnic in the park, we unexpectedly witnessed the exodus of the convoy’s "advance guard". Falling in with a German contingent, we recklessly tagged along through countless arrondissements. Blessed with "navigators" who repeatedly denied any knowledge of our whereabouts the near-sighted were truly leading the sightless ! As subsequent intelligence confirmed that we had traversed a greater part of the Peripherique, it was providential that we had initially comprised part of the vanguard ! Somehow, however, our escort happened upon the numerous 2CVs already gridlocking Avenue Foch.

Once underway, our "disciplined" convoy negotiated the Arc de Triomphe (ageing visibly) and advanced along the Champs Elysées. Hampered by the sheer volume of traffic, our progress was absurdly slow. Dave kindly relieved me of the driving, allowing Kirsty and myself to throw open the roof, clamber onto the seats, and "view the spectacle". (Exhibitionism? May be. But 2CVs seldom furnish one with an opportunity to pose...) Bearing right into Avenue Winston Churchill, we crawled past the Grand and Petit Palais, Veered left along the Seine’s tree lined north bank, and so arrived at Place de la Concorde. Suffering from the balmy climate and traffic congestion, "Teuf-Teuf" was, by now, "airing" her discomfort - back-firing merrily ! Liable to be detained by the Gendarmes for some considerable time, we temporarily abandoned my 2CV in Place de la Concorde. Having overcome Teuf-Teuf’s unwillingness to start, we eventually headed off along Rue Royale towards the Madeleine. Preoccupied with map-reading, we wheeled into Boulevard de la Madeleine without my noticing, and once more unwittingly strayed from the designated route. Previous experience being of no immediately recognisable relevance, we blindly accompanied our French "guides". Ultimately aware of our more acute sense of direction, however, we deserted the disconsolate French, rejoining the official route only to confront a sizeable traffic jam. My 2CV and its occupants, having evidently had enough, headed off towards northern Paris. Accosted in the Montmartre district, our journey was momentarily delayed by a tenacious photographer. Resuming our quest for St. Quentin en Yvelines, we joined the "Peripherique Exterieur", and thence onto the A13.

Despite its having proven both an automotive endurance test and a navigational ordeal, the "Balade dans Paris" emphasised several salient points. Avoid the (Friday evening) rush hour, traffic "hot-spots" and protracted routes; all of which serve only to disperse the convoy. Do not presume that every other participant is either a local inhabitant, or a more proficient map reader. Instead, be guided by your own directions and, above all, have the courage of your convictions !

Previously confounded by the "logic" of French road maps, Barry was, apparently, uncommonly proficient at adhering to the convoy’s official route. So much so, in fact, that he boasted two circuits of Paris ! Could Gloria’s added presence have had any bearing ? I couldn’t possibly comment ...

Having dined on a noodle substitute, Dave & I fully determined to avail ourselves of the "Bal Musette" party, and to "sing-along-a-Serge". It seemed prudent, however, to briefly retreat under a travel blanket from the chill night air. Joined first by Heather (a chocolate aficionado), and subsequently by Maggie, we failed to reach the chapitau ...

Saturday morning heralded an earnest foray into the trade tent area, prior to our patronising yet another hypermarket - our chocolate reserve was, by now, running dangerously low. Much to my annoyance, preoccupied with renewing old acquaintances, I entirely overlooked the flea market. Delighted with my booty (an anthracite grey replacement hood), I headed "homewards", whereupon Lynne brandished all manner of flea market goodies !

Returning from the local Carrefour laden with deck chairs, chocolate and an 11mm spanner, we chanced upon the departure of the mini-Raid. Needless to say, copious waving ensued. Fatigued by our endeavours (principally the waving), we familiarised ourselves with our new deck chairs for the remainder of the afternoon.

After a gala dinner of our own contrivance, we converged on the main tent to celebrate the 2CV’s Golden Anniversary. Our resolute conviction that a Madhatter would triumph in the raffle (for a 1988 2CV) having woefully proven unfounded we, nevertheless, delighted in raucously accompanying the "50 Years, 50 Hits". Having participated in a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" and partaken of the cake, we retired, somewhat hoarsely, to bed during the late 1980’s.

As the incessant leave-taking was apt to dishearten, we resolved instead to picnic in the gardens of Versailles ... but not before we had combed the flea market for that last crucial memento. Depositing all manner of paraphernalia in "Dave’s deck chair" & "Dolly Green", they transported us with due despatch to Louis XIV’s 17th century palace. Initially aggrieved at having to surrender 28FF (per head) for the "privilege" of lunching in such grandiose surroundings, it transpired that we were genuinely privileged to witness the "Eaux Musicale"; a sensorial feast of fountains and classical music. After a light repast, we hot footed it (by design) in the reverse direction around Louis’ assorted "water features". Adopting a "snap & run" technique we succeeded in surveying every fountain within the 2 hour time limit.

French officialdom yet again hampered admission to the campsite; protracted negotiations culminating in the exchange of cash and passports for invoices and swipe cards. Although perturbed by the request to surrender our passports we were in no position to argue ...

The frenetic travel preparations that pervaded our modest enclave, that Sunday evening, contrasted starkly with our neighbours’ tranquillity. Our packing accomplished, Dave & I escaped the ongoing bedlam in favour of the Madhatters’ last night soiree. Suffering from the symptoms of an imminent cold (no voice !), however, I retired early to bed.

Alive to an outward journey of some 4½ hours, and to the merits of one further hypermarket excursion, it seemed prudent to depart "de bonne heure". Surfacing at 6.30am, we had successfully decamped by 8am. Bidding our farewells to the remnants of Barry’s alternative convoy, its intrepid leader was allegedly unflustered by time limits. As for Gloria’s state of mind ? I couldn’t possibly comment ....

Having retrieved our passports and paid outstanding dues the convoy (minus Maggie) embarked on its homeward journey - an uneventful experience, save for an unintentional detour through Pontoise. Given free licence to forge ahead, Dave & I hastened towards Calais. Low fuel levels, however, necessitated an unscheduled stop. Joined again by "Dolly Green", we sallied forth towards Cité Europe.

Reunited with Maggie at Calais we were confident of at least John & Sandie’s impending arrival. Once "en mer", however, all efforts to scour the ferry proved fruitless. We alone had caught the ferry ...

N.B. Liability for defamation (libel) remains with the author !

(I think that last sentence means you can blame Louise, not me ! ed.)

The Macdonalds have hijacked the front cover this month - just to prove that we made it to Paris and with "Dolly Green".

Following what seemed a complicated arrangement with the insurance company "Dolly Green" was written off as uneconomical to repair and we "bought her back" - determined to repair her anyway ! Eventually we received a mere £750 in final settlement.

Ham brought her home from Barry’s garage at 12.30am on the Wednesday morning we were all to set out for Paris. By this time my anxiety levels had gone off the scale (not the last such occurrence this trip - ed.) - and Barry still had not finished working on his own car ! Rumour has it that he didn’t get home until 4.00am !

Early morning saw us trying to pack everything into the car without waking/upsetting the neighbours and we set out for the rendezvous at Clackett Lane. "Dolly Green" now has a new chassis, new body panels and a new clutch. The clutch "biting point" took a bit of getting used to en route and of course there had been no chance to practice avoiding the kangaroo impersonations.

A further complication had arisen when after booking the trip Kirsty was told she was to take a French ‘A’ Level on the Thursday so we had to leave her behind having booked her on to "Eurostar" to join us Thursday evening. James & Heather therefore had a bit more room in the back than usual - Louise had kindly volunteered to take our sleeping bags and tents in "Teuf Teuf".

Everyone looked very relieved to see us when we arrived at Clackett Lane and I began to relax - we really were on our way!

We made a respectable convoy of six (John & Sandie; Dave & Andy; Louise; Dave; Ray and us) to the ferry port. We met Tim Dodds and his H van and Matt from the Club Clouseau in the ferry queue. Luckily Barry, Gloria and the children, Wayne and his family screamed up at the last minute - I don’t think I could have coped with the feelings of guilt if they had missed the boat !

Discussions re the possible routes in France and getting something to eat meant that the ferry crossing passed swiftly. Two separate convoys set out for the camp site.

The new Autoroute from Boulogne to the outskirts of Paris taken by our convoy proved to be an amazing feat of civil engineering with breathtaking drops on each side of a number of viaducts. There didn’t seem to be much traffic using it perhaps people haven’t realised the road is open yet ! Even so our group of English 2CVs caused quite a stir with French drivers hooting and waving. I was very disappointed that Dave failed to catch my hub cap as it bounced past his window! I must have a word with young Tom!

We arrived at the campsite thanks to finding and following a very noisy, enthusiastic group of French 2CVs with just enough daylight left to put up the tents and cook dinner - or so we thought. However, as at the World Meeting queuing to get in took well over an hour (pre-registration did not produce the promised quicker admission after all) by which time it was dark. Barry’s alternative convoy had beaten us to the site by a few minutes and saved us camping space in an area with knee high grass which was flattened by driving the cars round and round. Tents were pitched by the light of car headlights and a very late snack was eaten. Somehow in the darkness we lost John & Sandie, Dave & Andy.

Campers continued to arrive throughout the night which made for rather disturbed sleep. Daylight revealed that we had struck lucky and had managed to find a very pleasant, spacious camping spot not too far from the toilet blocks, off the main "traffic" route and far enough away from the entertainment marquee so as not to hear it should we want to go to bed earlyish. There were 2CVs everywhere and we quickly realised that this was indeed going to be a gathering of World Meeting proportions ! And still they came ...

Breakfast was supplied by a local baker in a lovely 2CV van and the sun shone. We finished unpacking the car and arranging our pitch and relaxed - and the cars kept coming ! We saw Maurice & Sue (Escargots) who had travelled Portsmouth/Le Havre with Bill & Gill, Dick & Yvette and a search party set out to find our fellow Madhatters to direct them to the spaces we had saved for them. We found them pitching tents near Tim & Annie and family.

We decided that we didn’t have the strength to go to the race track at Montlhéry so can’t report on that activity - but I understand that we missed a 2CV formation display team. (Did anyone go ? Report for next month’s issue, please. Ed.) We explored the site a bit, investigating the available food & buying some of the Breton specialities. The most unusual fare on offer was acacia flower fritters. Progress around the site was slow with so many familiar faces to greet and compare journeys.

After supper spent gazing enviously at Dave & Louise’s noodles Ham set out to collect Kirsty from the Gare du Nord. Someone had suggested using the Metro rather than driving into Paris which seemed like a good idea. Kirsty was due to arrive at 10.00pm and when they had not reappeared at the camp site by 1.00am my anxiety levels were rocketing again (I warned you - ed.) - and my teeth chattering because it was such a very cold night. At 1.30am Kirsty was telling me all about late finishing exams, missing the train from Guildford, catching the next one which was running late and catching Eurostar with only minutes to spare, then arriving at Paris to find no-one to meet her ! Ham had tales of long waits for trains, no-one to ask about the journey (Automatic ticket machines are no help !) and on the way back a forty minute wait between trains ! When Barry went to collect his apprentice, young Tom, from the same station on Friday night he sensibly took the car - only to find that Tom had missed the last Eurostar train of the night so had to set out again to meet the Saturday morning train. (Madhatters outings are certainly never dull - chaotic but not dull !) I took the first opportunity to mention my lost hub cap to young Tom of course !

Much has been said elsewhere about the convoy to Paris and I shall never forget it ! I treasure my copy of the document given to everyone giving the permission of the French Police for the event to take place. Strict instructions were included "Car should not horn (sic) without reason. Passengers are asked to remain seated during the convoy. Seat belts must be worn at any time. Stop at red traffic lights". However, as we progressed along the route French drivers hooted and we all had to hoot back didn’t we ? What a cacophony ensued ! The roof of a 2CV is also a very useful opening to stand up and take photos through ! In our car we did at least stop at red traffic lights ! (Most of the time - ed.) The gendarmes did not seem to mind and most were smiling ! Most pedestrians stopped to stare, ask questions and produce cameras from somewhere for photos. We gave up and returned to camp having become lost part way round the route and never made it to the Eiffel Tower but the experience of driving done the Champs Elysées en masse was brilliant - nay magnifique !!

On Saturday we visited a hypermarket and sought newspapers reporting the convoy. (Maggie had seen us on TV in a French cafe) On site we visited the stalls/fleamarket and spent money. I was quite surprised to find only a few items/souvenirs which mentioned the 50th birthday but there were plenty of other goodies. Saturday night was party night with music and birthday cake. Generation 2CV appear to have their own signature tune - the lyrics consisting of "La, La" which was played "ad nauseam". We joined in with gusto each time but now I can’t remember it at all - Must ask Bill if he can still sing it.

Sunday - a last minute visit to the stalls/fleamarket and an expedition to Versailles. Having survived the initial resentment at paying to enter the gardens I was so pleased to be lucky enough to see the fountains in action - majestic is inadequate as a description. Someday I’m going to go back to see the palace interior. I bet you didn’t know there are only 7 Ladies loos in the whole of the Versailles estate/palace/grounds. This valuable piece of information was given to Heather and me as we stood in the inevitable, interminable queue !

Roll on Le Mans 1999 !!

Southern Clubs News - The Camp - 24-26 July

I expect that those of you who didn’t go will be bored with the rest of us talking about the great time we had at the World meeting in Holland - well I’m not going to let that stop me !

At the meeting in Paris I asked a number of Dutch visitors whether they had any news of the long awaited ‘Official Video’. There were two possible solutions offered. The first was that it was possible to buy the video in the Free Record Shops in Holland. The second was a recommendation to look on the internet. I haven’t yet popped over to Holland but can provide some good news (but don’t hold your breath ?). I found and e-mailed two addresses. The web page implied that the official video would be sent free to all registered participants and asked for us to confirm any change of address to be sure of receiving it. As the information was last updated early in the year I wrote to confirm our address and registration number. I also pointed out that we would consider payment if that proved necessary. I was delighted to receive the following reply :