The Compleat Anglia

On Wednesday evening I watched as Mathew Horne drove a Ford Anglia around the backstreets of Belfast's Cathedral Quarter. I was quietly thrilled. It was nothing to do with the Harry Potter connection to the motor, but a more personal one.

My old dad had driven a couple of Anglias, back in the day. The first was an ill-fated 105E model in duck egg blue that corroded with awful haste. The second was a white Super update with a larger engine and a more racy interior.

The Anglias were notorious for the mudwings, which collected rot and rust. My father was a sheet metal worker by trade, and while he kept the skies over Sydenham alive with bright-winged jets, he could not save those cars. Every Saturday afternoon, he would be out on the driveway with the aluminium sheets, the pop rivets and the Isopon filler, trying to tame the decay. It was hopeless. And so when he got the Vauxhall Viva with the enormous boot, I was made up. My bass amp fitted in the back. We were mobile and rocking.

In Diary Of A Rock And Roll Star, Ian Hunter is setting off for the States with his band Mott The Hoople. His first priority is to get his Anglia sprayed gold, before he gets on that plane. A bad financial investment, dude.