Pamproux - In memory of Uncle Pete

How many of you believe in fate - a strange mix of what can seem the inexplicable, when actually it’s the combination of a map and the study of same - when a place name pops out at you and you think, hang on, I know that place ...........

We woke up this morning to another heavy frost - I thanked the dear Lord that it was Alan’s turn to make the tea and, most importantly, wack the heating on. It gets cold you know. We were on the road early doors and enthusiasticly waved at our saviour, the man on the tractor, and hoped he would see the gratitude on our faces for his help the previous day. Bless his heart. We had already planned our journey to Poitiers and stopped for a brunch in a nice wide lay-by off the main road - we were plotting our journey to Bordeaux when this towns name popped out of the map! ”Pamproux”. That’s where my Uncle Pete lived! Now, my Uncle Pete was quite the devil may care kinda fella - loved speed in all its forms - he was the Go Karting World Champion in his day and built his own Go Karts. As I say, he loved speed. We worked at the same company near Liskeard for many years - he was well established at the company as the Head of a Production when I joined at the age of 16. If you walked through the factory floor and heard a load of giggles and laughter you could bet your bottom dollar, Uncle Pete was in the heart of it! We shared a special bond - there were only two occasions the local fire brigade rocked up at our premises over our tenure - once when I lit a cigarette in my office, threw the match in my litter bin and duly set fire to it. Blissfully unaware as I made my way outside with my colleagues - it was in our routine to sit outside at lunchtime to ‘catch some rays’. Well, we were sat outside duly soaking said rays, when the local fire brigade rocked up. Gladly, the litter bin fire had extinguished itself but not before it had alerted the local brigade - we had an automatic alarm attached to the local station. Anyway, drama over but a few weeks later, Uncle Pete lost his rag at something and threw a cardboard box across production and it wacked the fire brigade censor. Again they rocked up at the factory - and happily no drama. The other story I am reminded of with Uncle Pete is when he was caught speeding on the local A38. He was stopped by the police on the fastest section of the road and he was doing 110 mph. The said police officer said to Uncle Pete, “Surely you noticed the speedometer?!” “Ah“ said Uncle Pete “I thought that was the time!“

Anyway, we found an Aire in Uncle Pete’s local town but sadly the bar he frequented and used to contain the

many chums he shared time with, had closed down and was for sale - no happy ending there then. You never know what tomorrow can bring and we hope to find his home in the morning before we depart for pastures new. Nighty night folks - catch you later ............