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Just heading into town to get the car washed.’ – Sir Godfrey Tibbett, A View to a Kill

Took the slowest train from Châtelet Les Halles to Chantilly-Gouvieux, slept for the majority. On arrival we followed a man carrying two large baguettes along a footpath that was submerged in huge maple leafs that boasted all the shades of Autumn. Ripe to the point of soft crunch underfoot. As we approached the Chateaux De Chantilly we stationed ourselves at the very entrance that May Day snuck  into Sir Godfrey Tibbett’s car as he announced he’s off to get the car washed. I regaled this story to the missus who could not have given less of a flying Pegasus poo.

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An Enzo Ferrari peeled out of the entrance, it’s 12-cylinder engine . When we were finally allowed access I told the guard that he was standing in the exact spot where May Day snuck into Sir Godfrey Tibbett’s car when he announced he was just going into town to get the car washed. He also could not have given less of a flying Pegasus poo.

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Finally we got to explore the beauty of the Chateaux, covering it’s every nook and orifice. The library was majestic, elongated with two leather chairs at the far end. There was an impressive dining room and a sign told you that Alexander Dumas ate some chicken nuggets there. Or something to that effect.


After a quick saunter around the Chateaux grounds we stumbled across the bridge where ol’Rog tried it on with Tanya Roberts. The bridge has lost its decorative shielding from the movie, but you can walk across it. The stables are an interesting spectacle. I looked for a secret switch to take me to a secret lab but sadly in vain. As Rog’ would say, ‘Quite a let down‘.

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There is absolutely nothing in the Chateaux to signify that Bond was here. No Zorin key ring, no May Day cuddly toy, no plaque on the doors to say Rog and May Day got it on in this room. It was as if the entire town had wanted to forget that Bond was here…… Or so I thought.


We left the grounds, retraced our steps back to the train station and there it was. We had completely missed it on the walk in. She sat unassumingly in the corner of the forecourt. Again with no official plaque or sign aloft, but I knew it was her. The Car Wash that poor Sir Godfrey Tibbett had met his demise. I scampered into the station for a confirmation.

Is this the car wash that May Day strangled Sir Godfrey Tibbett in, in A View to a Kill? I asked the assistant whose eyes were so wide with fear, for a minute I thought she was going to push a panic button under the desk. She referred me to a non-English speaking supervisor who shrugged. A man entered, with a rakish physique, black horn rimmed glasses and scrunched grey hair, “I have to tell you something?” he said with calm authority, of course with a thick French accent “This is the car wash. This is the one.”


I nearly cried, I nearly hugged him. Instead I ran out in giddy excitement and got the missus to take my picture against the bristles of the beautiful car wash. The supervisor came out and handed me a magazine. It was a french brochure of the making of A View to a Kill. SO BOND WAS HERE! I paid $12 for the magazine, which seemed like a made up price, but a small one. Of course it was all in French but that didn’t matter, the pictures were gorgeous and more than that, it was a token that Chantilly had not forgotten.

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