By 7.30am it was hot in the tent, which along with a moron next to the campsite with a noisy chainsaw added up to be reasons to be up and about. Drifting into the town centre I found a spot for a cafe au lait and a jambon and fromage croissant.

Looking at my fellow diners there were British and American tourist pensioners. They were here for the three war museums. This was the epicentre of The Battle of the Bulge. Two elderly Brits in front of me in the queue were ordering coffee and pastries. It included lots of franglais and pointing. Didn’t they pay any attention in school? I hope what they got resembled what they hoped for!

This grey crew were in the town to visit museums covering the 1944 battle. This was one of Hitler’s last hurrahs to defeat the Allies and he was doing well having surrounded the Americans (101st Airborne Division) until the mist/fog cleared and supplies could be dropped into the town to help the besieged Americans. After this and the successful defence against the German siege the proverbial US cavalry arrived and beat back the Germans. As always you marvel at the bravery and sacrifice of young soldiers thousands of miles from home in a country they had little affinity with giving up their lives. For too long Europe, since WW2, has not spent enough on defence. Trump may be the main complainant but it’s old news and other US Administrations have identified the shortfall, complacency and dependence on the USA. Hopefully, this will change as the new belligerent threat of Russia seeks to recreate the USSR.

I chose to visit one museum mainly to look at the kit rather than the graphics. Here I came across some Americans doing an 11 day tour of the ‘USA in Europe’ during WW2. The tour started on the Normandy beaches and ends at the Eagle’s Next in Bavaria. They all looked shattered by the schedule and distances as they trooped on and off the bus on their way to the next museum.

After this I decided to drive through the north of Luxembourg before finding my favourite restaurant, from six years ago on the my bike ride. I had my turkey schnitzel. It didn’t disappoint. From here I headed to Germany to check into my gasthaus.

The afternoon heat was impossible in the open top car. It was like being grilled! I rested up at the gasthaus before the 10 mile drive to Luxembourg Airport to collect Anna. She’d got the train from York to Stansted. (This journey would equate to a Michael Portillo epic train journey in its own right.) After this slog the lovely Ryanair had managed to limit their flight delay to only 40 minutes and landed at 21:45. By the time the border officials had stamped every passport Anna appeared at around 22:25. I seldom, if ever, drive the Morgan in the dark. The headlights have the candle power/lumens of a glow worm. Anyway we got back to the gasthaus beside the Moselle and both fell into a deep sleep.