Senior Vice-President, ITAC
Back in 2000 the geek I love insisted on interrupting a wonderful week of shopping and gawping through London for a little day trip into the Midlands. We road a commuter train for a while and were deposited in a desolate little station that made my heart sink (and I’m a Corrie fan). Then without a map, he led me off down a couple of lanes – we actually crossed a stile – and came upon one of the ugliest stately homes I’ve ever seen. Its unfortunate features, however, were set off to great advantage by the array of Quonsets and other military huts that surrounded it. Bletchley Park, you see, had recently been declassified as Britain’s best kept secret and was receiving visitors. We proceeded then on one of the most reverent and fascinating historical tours I’ve ever had, conducted by a lovely ex-WREN who had done her WW II service right there at Bletchley. She showed us the hut she shared with a small army of women. She showed us the Enigma Machine, The Bombe and Colossus. She showed us the uniforms, the equipment and the ephemera that the men and women of Bletchley had lovingly labeled and donated tow hat they all hoped would one day be a major historical site.