Showing posts with label classic cars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classic cars. Show all posts

Monday, 25 September 2017

Five Go Camping at Berkeley Castle





Saturday dawned and with it, the realisation that the end was nigh.  No, not the hidden planet that was making the news - supposedly heading for an apocalyptic collision with Earth on Saturday! For us, Saturday marked the end of 2017’s festival season: Berkeley VW Show.

Entrance to Berkeley VW Show


The plan was for Gaz to travel down on Saturday and set up, ably assisted by Brutebox’s Baz and Issy, who were on a five-go-mad-in-the-country weekend (five being Gareth, Baz, Issy and their two dogs, Bob and Dexter).  For once, plans ran like clockwork. 





Brutebox's Bus
Weather forecast?  Fair.
Traffic?  Light.
Automotive mechanical issues?  None.
Location?  Stunning.
Local pub? Tick.
Company? Alright.


 By 8.00 pm, Voodoo Street was set up, closed up and the famous five were ensconsed in the local pub just down the road in a village called Ham (no, I’m not making it up).



With no evening meals on offer at the local, the famous five were instead offered plastic tubs of food left over from the lunchtime service, which included chunks of bread and cheese, grapes and cold meats.  These were enjoyed around the campfire later with some slightly inebriated word-association games.  So far, so Enid Blyton.  That is, until Baz and Issy decided to turn in for the night. Gaz still had some adventuring left to do.

Backdrop for the weekend
 The sound of music and frivolity floating down from the castle and across the meadows spoke to Gaz and he decided to explore.


Meanwhile, at home, surrounded by f*!&ing enormous spiders, I was busy building my own fortress.  During one of many mobile phone conversations on Saturday night, comparing notes, I was fortunate enough to enjoy the full audible experience of Gaz very nearly falling into the moat.  


A Ha-ha
He had assumed that the black chasm in front of him was a ha-ha and had considered jumping it, before realising (too late) that it was actually the castle moat.  After a slide and a scramble to avert disaster, the result was badly nettled wrists and injured pride. 


A moat


At home, I had sealed off the bathroom where my 8-legged nemesis was last seen loitering and Caleb had built a wall of cardboard to cover the gap beneath the cooker to head off its hairy mate.  Some time around 11 pm, Gaz and I both admitted defeat and went to bed, 70 miles apart.



Thankfully, Sunday went off without a hitch.  I arrived at lunchtime (ish), delayed by road closures resulting from Velo Birmingham, the 100-mile charity cycle ride.


The weather held, trade was steady and the company was good. 
As usual, there were some classic rides, including this non-VW but stunning classic E-Type... 

 















...and this stunning, steampunk-inspired interior, photographed with our steampunk props.




After the show ‘n’ shine, we said our goodbyes and started to pack away.

High jinks

On the journey home, we noted the falling leaves, marking the gentle slide into Autumn.  We’re looking forward to some free weekends, catch-ups with friends and time to seek inspiration for new product designs.  




That said, we know it won’t take long before we start to get itchy feet again.  Who knows where we might turn up?











Tuesday, 12 September 2017

Blustery Busfest: The Premier Experience

Brooding skies

With the horrendous news footage of Hurricane Irma fresh in our minds and a pretty iffy UK forecast in prospect, I was feeling quite relieved that we had taken the decision to book into Malvern’s Premier Inn for the weekend of Busfest.  

After the school run on Friday, we headed over to Malvern to join Gaz.  Thankfully, we dodged any thunder and lightning.  I must have been really awful in a previous life.  I hate driving when there is lightning.  I duck every time there is a flash, just as though I am anticipating being struck down by a thunder bolt.  Not the best approach when in charge of a moving vehicle.



Makeshift Flag



Under any other circumstances, it’s hard not to relax, driving along the Worcester Road - the vantage point being the stunning peaks of the Malvern hills.  However, Busfest is the world’s biggest VW Transporter show and attracts visitors from all over the globe.  You usually hit the ground running, fueled by adrenaline, conversation and coffee, until it’s time to pack away and then the wave of tiredness hits...  

Fortunately for Gaz, Friday had been a slow and steady day for trade, as the masses were busy arriving on site and keen to set up before the weather turned moody.


I had a walk around and caught up with Anna (IseaSurf).  We talked screen printing, coastal living and sinus infections (hope you’re feeling better Anna!)  




Of course, I didn’t leave empty handed and purchased a pair of funky mermaid leggings (third from right).  That’s the beauty of the festival season.  Even if you forget your suitcase, you can always pull together an individual outfit for a reasonable price.  




We spent the evening catching up with friends, but this time, when the air temperature became distinctly autumnal, we headed off to our luxury hideaway – a trading estate in Malvern.  Doesn’t sound very glam does it?  But it was quiet and the beds really are as comfy as Lenny Henry says in the adverts. 

Malvern digs

So, somewhat refreshed and distinctly perkier that we might usually be early on a Saturday morning, we headed back to the showground for an exceptional day’s trading.  Our neighbours, Retro Classic Clothing, had kept an eye on our stand during our brief morning absence as we were en route to the site.  It also gave them chance to exact revenge on Gaz (more on that later) after he initiated what I can only describe as “Sticker Slap Guerilla Warfare.”  In short, Gaz was slowly but surely re-branding their stand as Voodoo Street by covering every available surface with our promotional stickers.

We met the hardcore VW festival-goers and regular Voodoo Street visitors (always a pleasure), but also, being Busfest, encountered people from all over the world.  One of my favourite moments was during an unintentional music-off with the stand opposite.  We had Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart blasting our of our BruteBox; the opposition something very different.  They cranked up their volume a little more than was necessary, much to the irritation of one German visitor, who was clearly enjoying our song choice.  He was moved to poke his head through our gazebo to announce, in heavily accented English: “I love ze Joy Division!” and like the scene out of Sparticus, prompted several other voices to echo his sentiment. 

The Invisible Man




Gaz also had a bizarre exchange with a Mexican, who promised him that when he returned to Mexico, “You and I will do good things with Voodoo Street.”





By Saturday evening, we were fit to drop.  Gaz doesn't sleep well at the best of times (I on the other hand am usually out as soon as my head hits the pillow).  A visit to our neighbours camping pitch (complete with inflatable sofas) and another quick catch up with friends and we were off to enjoy the spoils of our visit to Morrisons (wine, cheese, vintage cider, crisps, brownies) and sit back for a night of terrible Saturday night TV in our hotel room.  How rock and roll are we?  If I could have, I would have thrown the TV out of the window, but we were on the ground floor, and the windows don't open.



Sunday morning was slow to start, a lot of day visitors being put off by the weather.  Caleb and I bailed at around 2 pm, personally escorted off site by one of the stewards.  Gaz held the fort until closing time. 



After we’d caught up on online orders and enquiries, we were enjoying a couple of drinks, when, in the midst of a conversation about the weekend, Gaz spotted that Retro Classic Clothing had sticker slapped his trainers.  He was so dog tired, he only spotted their handywork after he’d paraded around our local supermarket in them.  You guys!!!


Next weekend it’s Vdubs in the Valley and we are praying to the sun gods that the weather improves.  I’m hoping that it’s not a bad omen that Gaz’s offer of a fresh, hot pasty to a homeless person today was met with: “I can’t eat steak and ale.”  Until next time!