My hosts were the Bousfields. He had been Professor of
English at Madras University and his wife was still working – at the Foreign
Office in Whitehall. So most mornings she would drive me in her aged Austin 7
to my day job in the mail room at JWT in Berkeley Square.
The only problem, as I recall, was that she seemed unable to
change gear. So, engine screaming, we stumbled along in first… along the
High Street, through Knightsbridge… round Hyde Park Corner and into Piccadilly…
where, quite relieved, I would be dropped off.
Posts
