Glamis was the first classic car two day show I had attended and it was different in that I stayed overnight on site, somewhat re-living the camping experience of youthful bygone days, and what an eye opener. Previously I had seen stall holders come and go at one-day shows so I had no knowledge of the after-show social side of such events.
On the Saturday evening after close of business, many of
the stall owners didn’t even bother to cover up their displays and stock, they
just sat back in family groups with barbecues and drinks filled cool boxes
chattering away into the night. There was absolutely no sign of any pilfering.
Not that the various groups were keeping an eye open for such activities but they
would certainly have spotted any nefarious movements and acted accordingly.
On that basis I felt it safe to leave my pitch and go for a wander in the cool of the evening after a sun scorched hot day in the open. Many of the individual show-car owners had either gone home or driven off to their digs for the night so there wasn’t much to see on that front but I could have a good wander around the various stalls. Somehow I ended up at the beer tent where a pint of Tennent’s lager never tasted so good. At a fiver a pint I wondered if the second one would be as good. It was, and so was the third. That made the uphill walk back to the tent rather circuitous.
The chat was good too but some of the old hands were
talking about days past and how the autojumbles have changed. Once upon a time
an autojumble was just that, a collection of stalls and traders, private and
professional, selling off old stock, garage clear-outs, varieties of parts and
accessories, and everything from subframes and panels, engines and gearboxes to
spark plugs and sump plugs from vehicles old, very old and ancient.
A few of them were bemoaning the fact that the ‘autojumble’ is now home to toy, craft and clothes shops, cakes, do’nuts and bakers’ goods, jewellery and skin care artisans, clubs and charity tents and no longer the preserve of the automotive enthusiast in search of vital parts and spares. Although tool retailers and book sellers are tolerated, it’s the other non-motoring outlets that are ensuring their memorabilia and accessory searches are frustrated.
However, one can understand that for show hosts and
organisers it adds variety and increases the attraction for families, but for
the die-hards it just makes it harder to get round all the stalls and have a
good rake about.
Oh and if you fancy having an overnight in the grounds of some grand castle, just make sure they don’t have a bluidy big clock that chimes the hours. As the general hubbub dissipated at close of play on Saturday evening one could hear the chimes echoing across the parkland gloaming. I heard 8, 9, 10, 11 o’clock and the midnight peal before exhaustion overtook. I missed 1 and 2 am, but I bluidy well heard the 3. If there is a next time, then ear plugs will be essential.
