So as to keep the story moving and not to bore the reader, one aspect conveniently ignored in ‘Sidetracked’ is just how tiredness and irritation increased as the project progressed. Since, in my case, the situation was almost entirely self-inflicted, irritations seemed to abound. One such, I will never be allowed to forget.
    After a particularly late weekday session working almost until midnight, I headed to bed exhausted. The next morning, still out for the count building up those desperately needed reserves, I was shaken awake to a voice saying: “Quickly, something’s happening to the Seville. It’s out in the drive… it looks as though the engine’s running... I think someone might be trying to steel it?”
    I was up like a shot at the nearest window overlooking the drive. It was true, the car was not in the garage where it should be and the engine was undoubtedly running; occasional puffs emanating from the exhaust and condensing in the cool morning air.
    Dressing gown on, down the stairs and out into the drive, I shot. What did I find? This apparently alarming state of affairs was not, I discovered, because someone was attempting to steal our elderly revered machine. Somehow, after starting old ‘Jaws’ to put her away, I had somehow been distracted – possibly by she who had just woken me – and I had gone straight off to bed. 
    Apart from the fact that a nearly full tank of petrol had been consumed, what the postman and paper delivery boy must have thought on arriving at a darkened house with a darkened car chugging quietly away outside, I have no idea.
    It was at times like this that I feared that the secretary of the Rolls-Royce Enthusiasts Club – to say nothing of those friends at the start – was probably correct when he had not too courteously remarked: “Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”