Once again the small Derbyshire village of Crich became The Home Front as the Tramway Museum mounted its twice annual 1940's weekend. Last Easter we didn't go because it was too cold, but no problems with the weather this year. Though cloudy, the temperatures were ideal - warm enough to be able to stroll around in comfort, but not so hot as to make it a sweaty trial for the uniform clad re-enactors.
We parked in a field where the grass was so long that my little car failed to get much purchase. The wheels spun to little effect, and at one point we looked like being stuck. Happily, a helpful young man hurried over and with the help of a push we made it safely into a parking space.
L had donned her repro vintage blouse, sandals and wide legged slacks and I was squeezed into a print dress that was slightly too small for me but looked OK as long as I never unfastened my repro 1940's jacket! And at last I got chance to wear that real 1940's hat that I bought on eBay ages ago. Shoes were a problem though. The only pair I possessed that looked of the period were very difficult to walk in, which makes navigating the carpark in a former quarry and the cobblestones of the museum street a wearisome business. Fortunately there were a pair of comfy square-heeled shoes on sale for £5 on the stall of one of the traders - not vintage but looked enough like it to pass muster- so I was spared too much hobbling.
We had a ride on my favourite tram (a tall ginger and yellow rattler - Glasgow 812) and admired the attractive countryside at the Wakebridge end of the line. It was standing room only downstairs.
As usual, Mr Churchill arrived to make a short speech, but we both felt that his diction and intonation left much to be desired. It would not have stirred much nationalistic fervour I fear.
Whilst browsing the traders area (note that shopping was taking precidence over transport history here) L bumped into a pal from work who was heavily into the 1940's scene, and we were invited to pop over to the family caravan later for a drink. This we did, and spent a pleasant time sipping cava and discussing how much Lola Lamour charges for her performaces these days.
The wartime fun continues tomorrow and being Easter Monday the site will no doubt be thronged, but a cool breeze with the scent of rain suggested that we had chosen the better day to visit.
We parked in a field where the grass was so long that my little car failed to get much purchase. The wheels spun to little effect, and at one point we looked like being stuck. Happily, a helpful young man hurried over and with the help of a push we made it safely into a parking space.
L had donned her repro vintage blouse, sandals and wide legged slacks and I was squeezed into a print dress that was slightly too small for me but looked OK as long as I never unfastened my repro 1940's jacket! And at last I got chance to wear that real 1940's hat that I bought on eBay ages ago. Shoes were a problem though. The only pair I possessed that looked of the period were very difficult to walk in, which makes navigating the carpark in a former quarry and the cobblestones of the museum street a wearisome business. Fortunately there were a pair of comfy square-heeled shoes on sale for £5 on the stall of one of the traders - not vintage but looked enough like it to pass muster- so I was spared too much hobbling.
We had a ride on my favourite tram (a tall ginger and yellow rattler - Glasgow 812) and admired the attractive countryside at the Wakebridge end of the line. It was standing room only downstairs.
As usual, Mr Churchill arrived to make a short speech, but we both felt that his diction and intonation left much to be desired. It would not have stirred much nationalistic fervour I fear.
Whilst browsing the traders area (note that shopping was taking precidence over transport history here) L bumped into a pal from work who was heavily into the 1940's scene, and we were invited to pop over to the family caravan later for a drink. This we did, and spent a pleasant time sipping cava and discussing how much Lola Lamour charges for her performaces these days.
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