As dusk settled over the ancient town, the growl of a lambretta could be heard travelling towards the castle. Anyone caring to take the time to look, would have seen a white battle stained scooter with a single weary rider. Nothing seemed to be remarkable about the rider, except perhaps her untidy jet black hair. It was made more remarkable because of the extra long bright yellow jumper which clashed with the drab nature of this part of the town. Perhaps it was the fading light, but the scooter seemed to be floating. Indeed factually it was floating, for at that moment the front wheel parted company with the rest of the scooter.
It was a dazed individual who dragged the lambretta to the side of the road, then left it. Accommodation found and nights sleep under her belt. A mechanic contacted to repair the damage. She dug into her back pack to pay her bill, to find her purse gone. Lost as her possessions had been scattered across the road. A ten shilling note had to be borrowed. A phone call made to Lancashire for replacement funds. Before her journey could be continued.
Footnote: If you feel like replacing the word her with his. Then she with he and purse with wallet. You will have an accurate account from one day in my travels. For then, the above story is a account of my visit to Dover in 1965. Yes in those days I did have black hair and a bright yellow jumper that reached down to my knees!