September has been very busy this year. Starting with a successful Garden Party in the Communal Gardens. The weather was kind and the company was a pleasure.
Shortly afterwards I had to sort out some suitable clobber for The Goodwood Revival annual show.’You just need to wear something related to the 50-60s,’ advised our son who organised the tickets .He knows all about that sort of stuff.
In the course of moving to our new flat in February I had discarded most of my wardrobe which had been unable to keep up with my ever changing girth measurement depending on what diet I was following at the time. I had trousers that would have fitted both Laurel & Hardy if they had the need.
‘Just wear a pair of grey trousers,and get a cap from one of the charity shops,you can probably get one for a fiver’ advised my wife, ever ready to alleviate any problems that pass my way.
Chichester is well endowed with Charity Shops but it seems there has been a great clamouring for caps from people gifted with the same knowledge as my wife. There were no caps to be had.
You can only cover so much ground when you are hobbling around with one of those walking aids (admiral though they are) . In desperation I broke one of my long standing rules ‘Never enter a shop that doesn’t show the price of its wares.’ The shopkeeper smiled ,’yes he had got some caps’.
I tried a couple on ‘This one will do,how much?’
‘79 pounds ninety five pence’ he said.
‘ Gulp – ow much!’
He repeated the price.
Let me repeat the price,just in case you were totally gobsmacked like me.
‘Five pence short of 80 quid.’
I resisted the urge to burst into a rage like that tennis player did many years ago,
– ‘you can’t be serious!’
A small voice in my head was urging,
‘Get your arse out of there man,you’d be off your head to pay that.’
I adopted the English way of doing things.
‘It is a little expensive, ‘
I muttered and handed over my credit card.
So, on the big day of The Goodwood Revival the wife and I were whizzing around on our rented mobility scooters, no-no not the actual circuit, they wouldn’t allow that.But the organisers were very good at catering for the needs of people with mobility impairment. We had our own small area to watch the racing cars going round and round and round, right opposite the commentary box where we could hear so and so was only half a second behind someone else.
In addition to that we had a huge television screen the size of a cricket pitch behind us just in case we missed something on the track.Now I have to confess the spectacle of cars going round and round for a long time doesn’t give me the same buzz as your ardent followers experience.There is a sort of perpetual sameness that is unavoidable. I think there is more entertainment being stuck in a 20 mile traffic jam on the M1. But my interests were more centred on the acres and acres of old pre-war cars and a sprinkling of aircraft associated with my conscription in the RAF. They represented a period of nostalgia for me when cars were much more fun in my youth. You couldn’t be certain of getting from AtoB but you could be sure of plenty of unexpected adventures and the odd -oooer moment with the piston aircraft.
As we weaved in and out of the huge crowds at 4 miles an hour with our scooters I couldn’t help noticing how friendly and happy everyone seemed to be. Alex, our young granddaughter who had taken on the task of monitoring our progress through the milling crowds enquired of me.
’Are you enjoying yourself Granddad?’.
‘Fantastic’ I replied. She was attracting quite a few admiring looks .She looked stunning with her 1950’s frock, light makeup and hairdo capturing the Goodwood period exactly. A professional approached her requesting permission to take a couple of pics of her.
These events are often a bit of a mud bath, but the weather was perfect and the organisation remarkable for such a huge event.
It was at this point we passed a stall selling caps. I casually picked one up and discovered it was identical to the one I was wearing apart from the 20 pound price tag. I became incredibly unhappy for a brief period.
‘How could that shop have the brass neck to charge me 80 pounds for a piece of cloth no bigger than a dinner plate I fumed.’
‘It’s pointless to keep moaning about it now, ‘ said my wife.
‘I think it suits you’ and she bought me an ice cream to cheer me up,as it did indeed. It was the most fantastic ice cream I’ve ever had. Despite the niggling cap incident we had a wonderful day.
On returning to our flat, happy but exhausted, there was a knock on the door. It was one of our friendly neighbours.
‘Hello, I hear you are looking for a cap?’
‘ Huh! Oh no……..low groan’
‘I’ve got about a dozen in my wardrobe, you can take your choice, I rarely wear them these days’
Even more…. MUCH LOUDER GROANS.