Andrew Greenhalgh

Jaguar unveiled its new Type 01 today.

Cue plenty of discussion about whether people like it. Whether it looks sufficiently like a Jaguar. Whether they have gone too far. Whether it will save the marque… or finish it.

My reaction is rather simpler.

I’m uplifted by it.

Here is a British car company I have loved for years, deciding not to play safe. Not producing something that looks vaguely like everything else. But having a proper go at doing something new.

I like that.

And, slightly unexpectedly, it makes me feel a teensy bit prouder of my own 28-year-old Jaguar.

I’ll get into mine later today and drive it home. It could hardly be further removed from this new car in technology, design or intent.

But it’s part of the same story.

Good for me.

You can’t change the colour of your car once you’ve bought it. Not easily.

But you can choose where to park it to show the colour at its best.

This particular Florentine spot is close to perfect. The enormous blocks of warm brown stone, the dark window frames and even the gold lettering of the hotel sign all seem to set off the orange beautifully.

I’m sure the owner considered all of this before parking.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Florence is famous for transporting you back to the 1400s and 1500s. Narrow, cobbled streets. Renaissance palazzi. Churches, marble statues and stone bridges.

Less remarked upon is this city’s ability to also transport you back to 1973. Or thereabouts. Judging by some of its shop signs, parts of Florence appear to have been left largely undisturbed since then.

This selection was found on one short walk. There were many more.

As a car enthusiast, I can picture Marcello Mastroianni dropping his slightly scuffed Alfa Romeo at the Autocarrozzeria – body shop – before taking Sophia Loren out for a long lunch.

(Side note… check out the Rs in the Autocarrozzeria sign. Gloriously incomplete, almost masquerading as Ps… but we get the drift.)

How lovely to come to Florence for the Renaissance and get a dose of the 70s at the same time.

Here’s a sight I like to see.

An old Fiat Panda 4×4, waiting at a red light in Florence.

Small enough for the city’s tight streets. Tough enough for the sort of steep white gravel road this young driver might take to visit his gran in Chianti.

Especially nice to see a modern classic being driven by someone unlikely to have been born when it was made.

And doing so very stylishly.

Two Defenders in central Florence.

One slightly overweight, temperamental and prone to histrionics.

The other is a local policeman.

(That joke took me two days to ruminate on, in case anyone was wondering whether it was AI.)

It’s been a treat seeing dapper, self-described ‘shopkeeper’ Sir Paul Smith doing the media rounds this past fortnight promoting his new book.

I had the pleasure of meeting him once after we both disembarked at Heathrow from a flight from Pisa.

Summoning the courage to offer a slightly apologetic ‘Excuse me, are you Sir Paul Smith?’, I was delighted when he responded with a warm ‘I am!’

We chatted about Italy and cycling as we made the lengthy trudge to passport control. Two subjects that gave us an immediate connection.

As we parted, Sir Paul invited me to contact his PA and arrange to come and see his collection of cycling jerseys.

I never did. No bother. Meeting a top gent like him was already more than enough.

(Image taken from Paulsmith.com)

Green is my favourite car colour… and largely why I bought this old Nissan Micra.

But there are greens and there are greens.

I’m drawn to darker shades. The racing greens of the 50s and 60s favoured by Jaguar, Bentley and Lotus. The countryside greens of Range Rovers. And the gentleman’s greens of Aston Martins and road-going Jags like my old XJ8.

The shade can completely change the character of a car.

Dayglo, highlighter greens have their place too. They look amazing on an early Lamborghini Miura… perhaps even on a more modern Aventador. A perfect shade for when the entire purpose of the vehicle is to create drama.

I’m less convinced by it on a modern Ford Puma ST.

But then, given the choice between this and yet another white, grey or silver car, I think the owner deserves some credit.

You spend 50+ years sleeping on a rectangular pillow, come to Paris, and the hotel presents you with a square one.

The enlightened traveller thinks ‘when in Rome’ and throws themselves into the new experience.

A more curmudgeonly guest wakes up in disarray during the night muttering, ‘who thought this nonsense was a good idea?’

Sadly, I’m in the second camp.

But three nights in, I’m developing a European sleeping system.

And it’s a measure of wonderful Paris – my favourite city for a business trip – that this remains an interesting diversion rather than a deal-breaker.

I’m partial to an old house. I’m even more partial to an old car.

Putting them together improves both.

Good to be at Blenheim Palace today for the excellent Salon Privé car show.

Especially nice to take the old Jag, drive right up to the house, turn left while the exotica turned right… and park up with the other Jaguars.

Put me down for next year.

Squint or you’ll miss the balloon in this pic… taken early this morning.

Traffic passing the house at 7am doesn’t usually make me run outside in my dressing gown. But I heard the burners… saw a load of hot air balloons quietly drifting past… and went for a better look from the garden.

There’s something slightly magical about balloon flight. Almost silent, apart from the occasional roar of the burner. Peacefully going wherever the wind dictates.

I can’t help but recall seeing recent fiery footage of a balloon tragedy. Seems so at odds with this gentle scene in front of me.

Safe landings… and time for breakfast.