that though I passed several gates, some of which clearly yielded on to

driveways, I was unable to glimpse the houses themselves. I continued for

another half-mile or so, the disturbing smell now growing stronger by the

moment, until at last I came out on to a stretch of open road. I could now see

some distance before me, and indeed, ahead to my left there loomed a tall

Victorian house with a substantial front lawn and what was clearly a driveway

converted from an old carriage track. As I drew up to it, I was encouraged

further to glimpse a Bentley through the open doors of a garage attached to the

main house.

 

The gate too had been left open and so I steered the Ford a little way up the

drive, got out and made my way to the back door of the house. This was opened by

a man dressed in his shirt sleeves, wearing no tie, but who, upon my asking for

the chauffeur of the house, replied cheerfully that I had 'hit the jackpot first

time'. On hearing of my problem, the man without hesitation came out to the

Ford, opened the bonnet and informed me after barely a few seconds' inspection:

"Water, guv.

 

You need some water in your radiator." He seemed to be rather amused by the

whole situation, but was obliging enough; he returned inside the house and after

a few moments emerged again with a jug of water and a funnel. As he filled the

radiator, his head bent over the engine, he began to chat amiably, and on

ascertaining that I was undertaking a motoring tour of the area, recommended I

visit a local beauty spot, a certain pond not half a mile away.