The weekend after Friday 13th (nothing dreadful happened that day) was for nostalgia and dress up at the Vintage Goodwood Festival. The Goodwood Estate and Hemingway familiy hosted and designed an epic blast from the past, drawing in serious enthusiasts and their collections of vintage cars, bikes, clothing and dance moves. It was a bizarre event and although I enjoyed myself very much, I had mixed feelings about the participants. A celebration of history’s achievements is worth the while, but I had concerns that some of the visitors tried to live out all their days in a myth. I wondered what the young revivalists would be wearing in thirty years time during vintage celebrations of 2010? Maybe they just won’t bother showing up.
We camped. It’s been hands of years since I last took the pains, but it turned out to be a lot of fun and the fact that our tent was continually filled with ladybirds made it all the more bearable. Not to mention, also, the beautiful surrounding landscape… hills, woodlands and a windmill in the distance.
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