The story starts in a pub car park on a lovely summer's day in a village in England. Three men had stopped in their vintage cars for a drink to watch some cricket on the other side of the road. The badges on the cars' radiators read Bugatti, Deemster and Morris Cowley.
Two ladies slowly approached their table and asked who owned the Morris Cowley? Well, our Morris driver was flattered they should choose his car above the other two and stood to identify himself.
He learned that the elder lady ( Daphne) had been sent to Bayswater during the Blitz to stay with Great Aunt Bella who drove about in a Morris Cowley. The more they spoke, the more affection and admiration they felt for this wonderful lady. She had been born in India in 1920, sent to a Convent in France where the girls were forbidden to look at their naked bodies and had to wear a chemise in the bath with just their head and neck poking through the wooden cover.
When she proudly mentioned that she would be celebrating her 96th birthday in that same village on the following monday our Morris owner opened his big mouth and offered to take her for a drive on her birthday. Smiles all round and the ladies slowly wandered away.
True to his word, he arrived at the appointed hour and a great cheer went up from the family gathering. Everybody tottered out to the car park and there being no doors on the Morris, Daphne was lifted into the car and the pub's landlord appeared with a bottle of champagne for the birthday girl.
She was amused to learn she was one year older than the car and held on tight to the bottle as she set off on her journey. All went well and after safely returning the precious cargo to the car park, Morris man noticed Daphne's daughter Sarah and her lovely smile - so he took her for a drive too.
Throughout these antics, a young lad was watching all these grown-ups behaving like children again and when it became known he was Daphne's grandson Jake, he got a drive as well.
They ended the day drinking the champagne and Daphne inviting her driver to her 97th party next year - as long as he drove the Morris Cowley.
Text/pictures Robin Batchelor.