I didn’t know what to do. Did it mean anything? Nothing? Plucking up every scrap of courage I had ever possessed, I fell into step, right behind. But they did not know I was there.
 “It’s hard to imagine who he might be waiting for,” Janie Prentiss said to her friend.
 “Oh dear yes,” the friend chortled.   “Isn’t he just the most uninteresting person you ever saw?”
 “Ohhhh, absolutely!” Janie Prentiss cried.

   They passed on, giggling to each other but I heard no more. I had stopped in a stride. People bumped by me, grumbling with annoyance at this unexplained obstacle blocking their path to the station. I paid them no heed. I just stood and stared. And that was the one and only time that I ever missed the 5.17.

It seems churlish to find fault with such an excellent and popular movie as The Great Escape, but I will.

   There were no Americans involved in the escape - there was one American-born British officer - but since that would have denied us Steve McQueen and James Garner, both of whom were terrific, I guess it was forgivable. Charles Bronson was of Lithuanian origin and plays a Pole (near enough for Hollywood), perhaps to make up for it. There were several Australians amongst the escapees, who are represented solely by James Coburn. He makes one abysmal attempt at an Aussie accent and then, sensibly, gives up and reverts to American.

   I'm wasting words really. Nothing could diminish this marvellous romp through the German POW system.