It was 1962 and I was 14. My father, mother and I set off for a great adventure, driving down to the South of France. We took plenty of English tea and a contraption to keep the foreign flies off our sandwiches and with our multi-coloured tent we set up a holiday home in Juan-les-Pins. Unfortunately we didn't take any sun-cream and my poor father spent most of the time sheltering under a suitably placed railway tunnel. What an adventure.