A first trip to the self styled oldest motor sport venue anywhere , ever, official  . On my arrival I mistakenly thought I'd arrived at the pink corduroy trouser wearers' annual convention but , dodgy trousering apart, I had the best of times . I even  met the man who was driving a Cobra 260, a rare bird in itself in this world of pumped up 427 replicas, but  this car was the one  which Elvis had driven in Viva Las Vegas . Which explained the lingering smell of peanut butter sandwich I guess .

I also interviewed Gina Campbell , and seeing her travel up the hill in father  Donald's XK 150 with Mr Whoppit in her embrace was special . Mr who? Just  google it - ok?

Add in some manic Gp A rally cars, sundry single seaters ,  a sublime 1934  Maserati 8CM  and  a possible sighting of a bustle in a hedgerow en route to Leominster and my cup runneth over. But Leominster...? It felt like Royston Vasey but  without the funny bits ...