This week started on a high- watching my sister speak language, on country, educating youth. Nothing was more powerful than this display of strength and longevity- always was, always will be. Meanwhile, Gloucester chilled-out to a spate of food trucks in the evening, backed up by old cars and market stalls.
Tag: Classic car
Saturday morning was an early start, but in fairness the hours of the night before seemed to tick slower than a second hand drawal around the watchface. Like a beating rhythm of uncertainty, all fears fell when the 60 year old Wolseley lit up, matched only by my racing heart and Dad's eyes. If asked, I would have struggled to recite the sound before, but upon hearing the engine purr my childhood came back to life.