Henry Catchpole looks back at how subterfuge and guile saved the day on a photoshoot at L’autodrome de Linas-Montlhéry...
, and my French didn’t extend much beyond that. Still, I rolled up my GCSE linguistic sleeves and strolled over to the youngish chap wearing khaki. It wasn’t the most flowing of conversations, but I let him make the running and made sure to smile and nod in what I thought were the right places. As such, I didn’t tell a lie, I perhaps just failed to furnish him with the truth…
‘I’d barely heard of the place before we went there,’ recalls Matt, ‘but I remember being blown away by the scale of it. It was magnificent and rather monumental.’
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