The Chelmer Valley Car Club. Classics by the Sea.

Bertie and his new best mate, Colin the Commer

At night, me and a lovely Jack Russell

Jack had razor sharp teeth. Hence the pretty oven gloves.

Boundless energy. Dog had some too.

Lime and soda anyone?

Last night's car 'do' was fun. Beautiful classics, big burgers and friendly knowledgeable vintage car fiends.

Bertie evoked happy memories in a few people who were more than happy to share them with us. He's quite a guy is our Bertie. And coming along nicely too. One expert even suggested Bertie was in fine fettle and he should know because he'd renovated dozens of them during his career. His name is Bill and he took a real shine to Bertie.

Rob being an average cook had the audacity to try and out cook me by making and then baking a blackberry crumble in Bertie's small oven. We ate it at the table listening to salivating passers-by. 

Greater Love Hath No Stupid Woman than to sacrifice her noo tights for the Love of a Jack Russell

Where are the big boys?

I've just looked at a photo of the contenders for leader of the Labour party.

The heart sinks.

Classic Car Show in Purleigh. Essex.

As the sun melted our cornets we strode on gazing lovingly at the hundreds of classic/vintage cars on show.
Set in a couple of acres of greenery row upon row of restored motors stood, well loved and displaying their owners devotion and monies well spent.

Rob and I were the first to arrive in our red and restored 1972 Bedford CF Campervan. And having spent the past few weeks indulging in hard-work we were proud of how he looked. He wasn't perfect, he still shows his age but after a lot of time, effort and money he's a vast improvement on the Bertie who turned up in 2013 looking exhausted and ready for the breakers yard. Rob persevered and gradually he, that's Bertie, gets admiring looks.
We were going to stick a sign on the bumpers stating that although he's smart work was still in progress. But we didn't. All classic car owners know that restoring a vehicle takes oodles of time and energy and commitment. We did our best.

So after having a bacon sandwich, prepared by Rob on Berties little hob, we went walkabout.
Some of the motors were simply gorgeous.
Many Morris Minors, Triumphs of various descriptions, Jags, Ford Mark One Lotus Cortina (worth bucket loads of money) and a mark II looking spankingly fine in bergundy and...FOR SALE!
I cleverly steered Rob away from that one.
My favourites were a Latte coloured soft-top Morris Minor on sale for £6700. I carried on dreaming....

Metal things weren't the only things on display.
Owls and Falcons with terrifying talons also caught the public's eye. The smaller members of the huge crowd had the chance to ride a donkey, watch horsey displays and a tractor relay. It was so silly.
Dogs too had their day.
Owners of poochies could put them through their paces on the doggie assault courses. Two beige terriers wouldn't leave the red plastic tunnel. And one 'blue and white long haired collie' kept barking.

Of course with any event there was money to be made...
Stall holders of all shapes and sizes glowed with perspiration as they stood by their offerings.
I bought 4 retro pudding bowls (mustard with flowers) £2 and a bumble bee ring £1.

After the trek we went back to dear old Bertie, whose red and white striped awning stood out amongst his peers like a dead fly in a bowl o' cream.

And as people stopped and chatted I felt rather pleased. For Rob, who after much work, determination and love finally had his place amongst the vintage Greats.

Mum said "You don't grow old, you just wake up one day and you are old"
She's right.

Mum

Even though I still fling myself around I'm finding I do it less often.
Not because I hurt, but because I'd rather be still.
Contemplative.

Here it is.
My handmade bird feeder.
It's the one on the left by the way...

Click the pic for a close up...

After watching a few sparrows and a single robin cavorting from branch to bird bath to table to grass I had an idea.
Another bird table was needed. Maybe not so much for my flighty friends but for me because I adore watching these small creatures scoop and swallow my never ending supply of seeds.
So I went about the garden and garage looking for something, anything that might do as a bird feeding station.
Hmmm. Nothing in the garage. And not a lot lying around in the back garden. The side garden might hold treasures.
And wouldn't you know....Lying on top of a heap of discarded bits and bobs was a standard lamp. I had to laugh. I mean how fortunate am I?
And so after disentangling the lamp's wire/plug from my old bathroom sink taps I carried the tall lamp base into the middle of the back garden.
Not bad, not bad at all. Rain damaged of course, but the birds won't notice. It'll be alright.
There was/is a brass connector which held the shade fittings, you know the plastic things which in turn connect the shade to the stand. It was fine. A solid inch which would I hoped hold some kind of bowl or plate for the nuts and seeds.
After several attempts to fix various baskets bowls and whatnots to the brass thing I was stumped.
Hmmm again.
I sat down on the step and watched a blue butterfly swoop and dive finally landing on a pot of chives.
The butterfly sat, resting, I sat, thinking. Then we both shot up. The butterfly to the top of the top of the trellis, me to the lamp.

Turn it upside down. I thought. Yes.
So over it went, its base upended and the long wooden pole down into a hole from where once a washing line pole had been.
Perfect.

They'll need to sup I said. So I ran to the garage where a wicker cup with plastic interior sat amongst the cobwebs.
I filled it with water and placed it, crown like, on top of the base!
Surrounded it with seeds and left.

A picture will appear tomorrow.

Talking of pictures...
I recorded "Shutter" last night. A movie about ghostly goings on within an expensive camera owned by beautiful young American couple.
Seen it before. Very fair film. Not gory, just yukky. Especially the part when the ghost's purple tongue grows very long and tries to lick the man to death. I love that bit.
Anyway if you do get a chance to see it, do.

Talking of films.
I watched "The King's Speech" last night. Colin Firth's portrayal of Bertie, aka George VI, was just so good. His perfectly voiced speech at the end had me tingling with emotion.
Bertie's wife, Elizabeth, was played by the slightly eccentric but eerily gorgeous Helena Bonham Carter.
I would love to go inside her wardrobe.

Poor Cecil. King of the Wildcats.