In the summer of 2003 an opportunity for me to join a group of friends on a holiday I'd have given my eye teeth for as a boy. I'd been a voracious consumer of all things Second World War. It sprung from long weekends and evenings watching films such as A Bridge Too Far, Where Eagles Dare, The Guns of Navarone and of course The Great Escape.

It was a big family occasion when one of the classics was on. This was pre-video age (I know, I don't look old enough do I) and the time of three tele channels. We would sit there enthralled by the high adventure and edge of the seat tension. My best friend, Ricko was similarly enthused by the same films, and with him having a brother in the army, and a dad who had been in the RAF, it was like a match made in heaven. We made friends at nursery aged three, and are still best of friends to this day.

Four colleagues had been on trips to the battlefields of Scotland, the Somme, the Ardennes, Ypres and Verdun over the previous three years and were planning a trip to Normandy in 2004.

Unfortunately one of the group moved away for another job and vanished into the civil service nether regions, never to be seen again, and another was attending college part time and would be revising and sitting exams throughout the year so had chosen to sit this year out. Bad news for him, but the two 'spare' slots were offered up to myself and Stuart. We both eagerly accepted and began saving and planning for the trip in June.