Post 471: Friendships, Cars and Cakes.
I’ve been stuck at home lately with my Darling’s slow but careful recovery from the torn calf muscle in her right leg, so any outing feels like a real treat now. Today was no exception.
I fed Mr Vicious nice and early before making myself a bowl of cereal with plenty of fruit from the fridge. I think I may have overbought fruit this week, but who’s counting?
As I crunched through my healthy breakfast I imagined I was fuelling up for the long day ahead. Cars, bikes and plenty of sunshine. I needed to take it easy, but I also wanted to make the most of it.
After cleaning my teeth I headed smartly downstairs, only to realise my taxi had arrived early. I opened the front door to a couple of warm hugs from my pals before remembering I’d left my wallet upstairs.
I think I woke my Darling as I dashed back up, so there was time for a quick hug and kiss too.
“Be careful, and drink plenty of water,” she said.
I promised I would… and then immediately forgot to put any water in my bag before heading out into the sunshine.
Oops.
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With me settled comfortably in the front passenger seat, my chauffeurs spent the journey asking if I was comfortable and whether I needed anything.
I knew I was in good hands.
As we arrived, we drove past the disabled parking area. I quietly cursed myself for forgetting my Blue Badge again, but at least I had the sense to get out near the entrance rather than attempt the long walk from the field car park.
One lesson learnt already.
I tapped my card on the payment machine and smiled at how easy everything has become these days. No rummaging for coins—just a quick tap and you’re through.
Not long afterwards my phone buzzed.
A friend had sent me a photograph of where they’d parked their car on the show field, making it much easier to find them later.
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Now, I know cars aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but bear with me.
This little annual show specialises in Edwardian cars, built between 1902 and around 1914. Over 120 years old now, yet many of them still drive onto the field under their own power.
The oldest car there dated from 1904.
Standing beside it, it was hard to imagine a time when someone carrying a red flag had to walk in front of these noisy machines to warn horses and pedestrians of the terrifying new invention approaching.
It really was another world.
Back then only the very wealthy could own a motor car. It would take Henry Ford, mass production and the years after the First World War before ordinary families could dream of owning one.
History fascinates me.
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Eventually we wandered through the craft stalls and autojumble, chatting as we went. The heat slowed us down nicely, and whenever we found a patch of shade we naturally stopped for another conversation.
After completing one lap of the showground we’d earned a rest.
My mates had thoughtfully brought along a folding chair just for me.
That simple act meant more than they’ll probably ever know.
We settled beneath a huge oak tree where dozens of other visitors had escaped the blazing sunshine.
A coronation chicken sandwich and a black coffee later, I was feeling thoroughly spoilt.
From beneath the tree I suddenly spotted another friend’s BMW on display, so once lunch was over I wandered across for another catch-up.
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Meanwhile, back at home, my Darling had decided today would be bedroom day.
Five weeks after injuring her calf at the wedding she’d finally had enough of looking at what had become more of a recovery room than a bedroom.
While I was surrounded by cars, she was surrounded by laundry.
I simply sent her a message to say I’d arrived safely and was having a lovely time.
That was all she needed to hear.
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Normally Big Sis and Big Bro-in-law would have been exhibiting their beautiful white V8 Rover, but unfortunately repairs had ruled that out this year.
Instead I found another group of car friends sitting behind their immaculate BMW 2000.
Their welcome was as warm as the weather.
Not only was I invited to pull up a chair, but they also produced a little gift…
Blueberry muffins.
Honestly…
How thoughtful is that?
It’s little things like that which remind you what friendship really means.
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I can talk for England—and probably did—but eventually I realised I’d interrupted their lunch long enough and left them in peace while I resumed my wandering around the show.
By mid-afternoon we’d all gravitated back beneath the same oak tree.
My original pals, my BMW friends, cups of coffee, muffins and endless conversation.
Perfect.
One unexpected discovery was a car I’d never even heard of before—a beautiful French Facel Vega sports saloon from the late 1950s and early 1960s. Only around 3,000 were ever built, which probably explains why it was completely new to me.
I love learning something new every day.
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It really was one of those days where I felt genuinely looked after.
By my friends.
By strangers.
By everyone, really.
Getting home to my Darling was the perfect ending.
She was absolutely worn out after tackling the bedroom, but we exchanged stories about our very different days before sharing an ice cream together.
Later we tucked into another huge piece of lightly smoked salmon before collapsing onto the sofa to watch Murder 24/7 on BBC iPlayer.
Another lovely day.
Another reminder that life isn’t measured by how far you travel…
…but by the people who travel alongside you.
Good night.
Take care. 
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