It's like a bereavment, Andy the Commer widower

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I'm fresh in from the local pub, and all the local pub folk are telling me I'm mad to sell her. It's not a sale as I see it, but the passing on of a majestic British mantle. A torch keeping aflame the legacy of a decrepid British light goods vehicle industry, the memory of long closed factories and those who worked in them with brown overalls, hooters, tannoys, vernier gauges poking out their back pockets and big teapots which never went cold. All now kept alive by ingenious engineering from pattern parts on a drive in Sussex. Well regrettably, it can't go on for ever.
So thank you one and all for all your kind words, and good wishes. She's not gone quite yet, there's still a long hot summer to get through first, and she'll be at a certain event in Hants in a few weeks time. But I'm sure of one thing, those were our salad days, when I was green in judgement, cold in blood... and we thought they might last forever...