Andrew Greenhalgh

I photographed my freshly-washed old Jaguar and steel gravel bike with a new iPhone. Some new technologies I’m perfectly happy to embrace. In other areas it seems that older engineering suits me better.

My 1998 Jaguar belongs to the last generation of XJs built with a steel body. In 2003 Jaguar switched to aluminium, cutting around 200kg and producing a lighter, more efficient car that was less vulnerable to corrosion. All genuine improvements. And yet they still aren’t enough to swing it. I much prefer the look of mine.

It has been the same with bikes. Racing frame technology evolved towards carbon fibre and I’ve owned a couple of impressively lightweight models. But I’m not chasing king of the mountain points these days – never was, if I’m honest – and a year ago I went back to steel. It turns out I not only prefer the way it feels on the road but also the clean, angular lines and normally proportioned tubes.

Boy racers burn me off and leaner, keener cyclists drop me on the hills. No problem. I’m happier sitting at cruising speeds these days. Deep down, maybe I always was.

Travel should be about movement. But it’s also about queuing. 

Today at Pisa Airport was a good experience. The queues for security and then passport control were 20 mins each… and the plane was only half an hour delayed.

What was nice was that the security and passport control lines continually inched along. I understand my own psychology well enough to know I prefer a 20 minute queue that shuffles along slowly.. to one where you stand stock-still for 10 minutes and then walk briskly for 5 to the end. Even though that would be faster overall.

This is why I never join the queue at the gate until they start boarding. Waiting motionless in line would nudge my stress levels skyward. You always get a few lurkers who sit tight before joining the dregs of the queue as the gate closes. I’m one of them.

Slow-moving queues I can live with. Going nowhere I can’t.

Two interesting cars spotted here in Florence.

I hadn’t seen one of these old Suzukis (right pic) in a fair while. And then came across two of them a few kilometres into a ride in Chianti.

Cars suit places.. places suit cars. 

If this was rural UK you would more likely see an older Land Rover. Here – in the olive groves and vineyards of Chianti – a little Suzuki or an ancient Fiat Panda 4×4 is more common. Lightweight and narrow four-wheel-drives are perfectly suited to the twisting, undulating and sometimes unpaved roads.

But new Land Rovers are popular here. This one (left pic) looked perfectly at home parked outside the Palazzo Pitti in central Florence. It will probably spend more time on paved or cobbled city roads than the strade bianche of Chianti. 

Which is fine.. as the little Suzuki is still running strong. And the Defender does an equally fine job looking splendid in front of a magnificent Florentine palazzo.

When I bought the old Jag five years ago, air-conditioning meant windows down and drive as fast as you can. On especially hot days it helped to wolf down a posh choc ice (Magnum) before setting off.

I wisely had the A/C fixed and chilled air of sorts now emits from the system. But it’s a 30-year-old design and in these June temperatures we seem to be operating at its limits. 

I don’t remember the famed heatwave of 1976 the media and slightly older folk bang on about whenever it gets warm. But I can recall later childhood summers and the cars we had back then. Cortinas, Marinas, Itals. Air conditioning? Don’t be silly. Vinyl seats? Yes, if you were unlucky. Like my best mate, whose Dad had an Austin Maxi. Your sweaty legs really would stick to the maroon bench-seat. Nearly 50 years later I can still feel the sensation of peeling myself off it.

Didn’t seem as hot back then. Or maybe we didn’t care. It was the summer holidays and we just wanted to play outside. If it was a real scorcher the paddling pool and sprinkler would be out. We’d plead with Mum for 20p on hearing the Ice Cream Van coming down our cul-de-sac playing Greensleeves. I don’t think she liked that tune. ‘No.. you can have a home-made iced lolly from the freezer.’

Can’t get a Magnum for 20p these days. Best not tell Mum. 

So this is what the world looks like through smart glasses. Ray-Ban Meta Wayfarers.

I’m no stranger to a pair of shades… but have reached the age of 53 without needing spectacles. Other bits might be wearing out, but my eyes have still got it. 

Some might say ‘what’s that bloke doing with hi-tech eye-wear… he hasn’t even got satnav in his car.’ Very true. I run a 28-year-old Jag and 17-year-old Range Rover. Both welcomingly analogue… and both drive beautifully. Just without the many bings, bongs or touch screens of newer models.

These smart glasses have a few bings and bongs. Plus, there’s an AI voice to have a chat with. Which is weird. But saying ‘Hey Meta… Start Recording’ is a godsend when you’re on the move. Meaning you can immediately capture something without having to unlock your phone and press record. Hands-free as well… and quick on the draw.

That speed is the upside for me. Being able to catch something I would previously have missed fumbling for my phone. The bonus being you get material from an unusual point of view. 

Let’s see what these glasses can see.

‘I’m just nipping down to Halfords’ are safe words for a Saturday morning. Family members know where you’re going. What you’re going for. And roughly when you will get back. Domestic harmony maintained.

Halfords has been a part of my life for most of it. My first bikes – both Raleighs – were from their store in Worcester. Since graduating to motoring I’m not sure I’ve bought a car battery, wiper blade, washing sponge or air freshener anywhere else. Not even on Ebay or Amazon. Don’t need to. 

Today I’m in for a windscreen stone chip repair on the old Range Rover. My second in 3 months. And last year I was here in the Jag for the same reason. Some years you get lucky… and some you don’t.

I love being able to book a slot online. Makes things easy. And when you rock up they quickly check it really is a chip and not a fully cracked screen. (You’d be surprised.. apparently.) After that it’s a quick 15 minute job. Meaning you can sprint over to Starbucks for a coffee or stay inside and slowly browse the aisles for car shampoo.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning. 

I can take a half decent image with my iPhone… but if you want a proper job doing then you need to call in a professional.

Jamie Beard arrived in The Snap Wagon. A silver Toyota Hilux Hardtop Pickup. Halfway between a workshop, camera store and mobile command centre. Which Jamie then starts pulling equipment out of like a conjurer removing props from a magic box.  

You might think you’re in for a lengthy ordeal with all this kit. Not a bit of it. Jamie moves fast and sets up like someone needing to catch a one-time shot. Which he has obviously done before. News stuff. Combat zones. Public order events. 

Our satellite cleanroom must be comparatively straightforward. The satellites don’t move. Our engineers do. But we can work around that until they relax and forget the camera is there. 

Nothing special appeared to be happening most of the time. But then you later see a shot that makes something… or someone… look 120% better than they have any right to.

He’ll have to take some shots of me next time.

Work experience didn’t look like this in my day… at least not for me. I am reminded of that every summer when we host students here at Surrey Satellite for their work experience week. 

For months I’ve been receiving placement requests from students – and some parents. The mails from the parents tend to be more frantic and pleading. I know how stressful it is to find a place. Most companies will ignore your approach. We try not to. But there are far fewer places than requests for them. 

Many must rely on a berth provided by a sympathetic family friend… or parent. This is what happened to me.

In the late 80s my Dad worked at Tinsley Wire, a large steel manufacturer in Sheffield, and got me a place in the accounts department. I spent five days with reams of green-and-white dot matrix computer print outs. Lines of numbers. My job was to check for certain codes… and ring them with a pencil. Five… Whole… Days. 

The boredom was off the scale. Even 15-year-old me knew it was a task of no importance or actual use, likely created to give the son of a sales director something to do. But I completed my placement, got the school off my back and realised that management accounting wasn’t for me. A useful lesson.

In this pic Hannah is talking to my colleague Louise about our lunar pathfinder satellite. I wonder what a pic of me in that accounts department would have looked like. 

Probably for the best we didn’t capture it. 

My old Range Rover looks well at home in this Cotswold village, Guiting Power. 

The locals pronounce it ‘Gitting’ and it sits halfway in the narrow lanes between Winchcombe and Bourton-on-the-Water. Smaller than both. Mercifully quieter also.

There is a smart looking cafe my mate Stuart’s daughter works at. And two well-named pubs… ‘The Farmers Arms’ and ‘The Hollow Bottom’. As far as I know, neither is owned by a celebrity. But if that’s wrong, head to the other. 

Overall… well worth a visit.

I last saw Jean-Noël Hardy in 2018 at a satellite conference in Rio. He snapped this selfie on my phone… to send to his former Airbus PA, Alessandra. I’m glad I kept it.

Jean-Noël took me under his wing when I visited Sao Paulo several times between 2013 and 2015. He was the boss of Airbus Space in Brazil, and a long-time resident of the country. A proud Frenchman, passionate about representing a great French business. Equally passionate about his family, who I heard much about.

Above all he was a story-teller. I vividly remember a splendid champagne lunch at the Hotel Le Meurice in Paris in 2015. Jean-Noël was negotiating his retirement from Airbus and happily put the bottle on one of his last expenses claims. 

He told me how the last German Commandant of Paris used the Meurice as his command HQ in the war. He visited the hotel again in the 50’s as a civilian and was recognised by one of the waiters… who offered him champagne. The General was thought of warmly, mainly for ignoring Hitler’s order to burn Paris.

Jean-Noël, who died recently, will also be warmly remembered.