Our heroes had just decided that Rotterdam was closed for the day when they found a cafe, and after a coffee went back to the van; Len stopping en route for the first cream cake of the holiday. Then it was on to Amsterdam where, alighting from the van, everyone disappeared in a whirl of bikes, cars and trams.

Toddy was really in his element. Edging his way to the kerb and looking right (forgetting he was in Holland) he failed to notice that he had strayed onto the cycle path. Nor did he see the cyclist bearing down on him at high speed; result: Toddy carried five yards down the road before leaving the cyclist to totter unsteadily through a set of red lights.

With the traffic flowing thick and fast our heroes negotiated the bicycle strewn footpath and cycle path, and dashed across the first half of the road to the middle, and safety - ? - Not so: “Ding ding, ding, ding ding” went the tram as they leapt from the tracks just in the niche of time. Hearts pounding they repeated the performance until they reached the pavement; only for Toddy to be clobbered by another bike, and Mick by a couple of push-chairs.

Finally somewhere to eat was found (most of Amsterdam was closed for the day as well) - a Dutch “chippie” where they dined on beef burgers and chips with mayonnaise (mayonnaise??), and then on to the pub for a few beers. Climbing back into the wagon they had a conducted tour of the much pleasanter centre of Amsterdam, courtesy of ten back-seat drivers.

On to the motorway and at last the German border in the late afternoon. There was a long queue of traffic due to an anti-nuclear demonstration (or something) making the border guards extra cautious. After a long wait 75 meters were covered in 10 minutes, then began another long wait. This was the signal for the more thirsty amongst our heroes to power into the nearest bar. “Don't worry, Alan (I), we'll bring you one back.”

They sat in the comfort of the bar, watching the slow progress of the van - “Good ol' dependable Alan, taking his time so that we don't have to rush our beer”. Just then, the border guards retired into their post, and the traffic roared past unchecked. Alan (I) saw his chance: an open road, no guards, everyone in the boozer - and accelerated, covering the last hundred meters in less than a minute.