As we drove in a convoy of vintage VW camper vans along the Cambridge by-pass, a Flying Fortress came in to land at Cambridge Airport. We cruised through brick and flint villages, across the Devil's Dyke to visit a windmill and a local gathering of whimsy and anachronisms at the Burwell Fenland Edge Museum.
What a spectacular, joyous and innocent event! A celebration of times gone by, with no regrets and no negativity whatsoever. Lines of Union Jacks were strung across our way, and, because of the setting, I didn't think of the extreme political right, or of football, but of the Britain of the 1950s. I remember the Coronation in 1953, and this reminded me of that.
For our son Dan, who remembers none of this, and my American wife Hanna who is totally bemused by my fascination for old junk, the best bit was an old schoolroom with proper desks in rows, a map of the British Empire and slates to write on. You may laugh, but my first school was just like that.
In the same building was a working telephone exchange, a village shop and the front end of a bus. Just brilliant!
Outside there were stalls of the usual sort, cakes, and tea in proper mugs. We didn't see all the other stuff like the forge and vintage vehicles, but we did see the soldiers dossing in their Nissen hut.
We will return.
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