This is probably the first summer in two years that I am home. There has been a heat wave in the UK, with one online tabloid newspaper continuously flashing lobster red bodies to labour the point. Nearer home, there have never been so many pasty limbs and torsos exposing their inked contents in various degrees of attraction or repulsion, depending on one's aesthetic sense. My friend bought us a bottle of Pimms and it is still sitting in the cupboard waiting to be mixed and savoured. There are BBQ adverts galore on the TV, some of them are artistry par excellence. The food looks mouth watering, testimony to the skill of the artists who created the adverts. Elsewhere, the Greeks have rejected austerity and there was terrorism on a Tunisian beach.
One of the things I seldom do is to visit summer fetes. Perhaps I did not grow up with this cultural phenomenon. But this weekend we found one near home and off we went.
There it was: fun rides, toy stalls, art and craft marquee, raffle (for a Mini no less), bratwurst, hamburgers, ice cream, a dog show, and a crooner or two. And then there were the classic car enthusiasts. This was the second time this summer that I came across this contingent of mostly male collectors who would drive their beloved car to a show and sit around waiting for adulation from onlookers. Some even sit inside the car in baking hot condition, such is the devotion to duty. All the cars are in gleaming condition - benefit of untold love being lavished on them. What drew my attention were the enamel badges that the cars were adorned with. And believe me, there is also a market for such collectibles.
Here are some photos of my hour with the classic cars, taken on my iPhone 6 Plus.
There is a sense of novelty in visiting a summer fete, much like the time when we visited all the Christmas markets in Vienna. Maybe if I visit another one again, I will have experiences of summer fetes to last a lifetime.
One of the things I seldom do is to visit summer fetes. Perhaps I did not grow up with this cultural phenomenon. But this weekend we found one near home and off we went.
There it was: fun rides, toy stalls, art and craft marquee, raffle (for a Mini no less), bratwurst, hamburgers, ice cream, a dog show, and a crooner or two. And then there were the classic car enthusiasts. This was the second time this summer that I came across this contingent of mostly male collectors who would drive their beloved car to a show and sit around waiting for adulation from onlookers. Some even sit inside the car in baking hot condition, such is the devotion to duty. All the cars are in gleaming condition - benefit of untold love being lavished on them. What drew my attention were the enamel badges that the cars were adorned with. And believe me, there is also a market for such collectibles.
Here are some photos of my hour with the classic cars, taken on my iPhone 6 Plus.
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| A warped sense of humour |
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| A tiger in every tank, from the Esso promotion in the 1970s |
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| Badges galore |
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| An idealized blonde bombshell |
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| Patriotic fervour |
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| Would I know that this is a 1930 Model A? Of course not. |
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| And more badges |
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| Please do not lean on me unless you are naked |
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| A car from a bygone era |
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| Aha, for a laugh |
