Somewhere in Norway, I pulled over into the side of a minor dirt road, skirting past the fjords on the lead up to . The sun was shining and rain had long since passed, there was not a sign of a single other vehicle for miles around and I drifted into lay by next to the Tirpitz Museum – thinking it was closed I tried the door only to startle a young man who’s summer job was welcoming the occasional lost traveller – I remember the day like it was yesterday, a strange array of twisted metal and shell casings, plus well restored photographs of the attacks by the RAF and midget submarines from the Royal Navy, plus a well restored snow camouflaged 80 year old BMW bike…