There is a war on, you know!

It was the War Weekend in Pickering last weekend. I’d hired an outfit for it, but the success is in the detail and the accessorising. I knew I had a scary amount of 1940’s stuff, mainly my mum’s but also some of my aunt’s since clearing out her house this year, so I had a good old rummage around and found brooches, a string of pearls scarves, gloves, a couple of handbags, a pair of sunglasses, an umbrella, and a little hat of my mum’s*.

Putting all of these together with my rather fabulous dress and jacket from Costume Hire, I added the shoes, and a fur stole, also from Costume. The only thing I couldn’t do much about was my hair, which is just too short to get into a 1940’s style. J went one better, and got her hairdresser to do hers. It looked fabulous!

As we walked along a York street to the car, we did get a few odd looks. Ahh, no one takes the trouble to wear a smart hat these days, do they? Such a shame.

Arriving in Pickering we walked down into the town with K & V. We were soon spotting others in costume, and I realised just how big an event it is. The whole town was transformed. There were encampments, jeeps, old cars, and most of the shops were decorated. And there was every type of military uniform you could think of. There were land girls, and policemen, a chimney sweep, Army, Navy and Air Force, South African forces, even someone from the Russian Navy. There were ARP Wardens, housewives, spivs and spies.

We posed by vintage cars, jeeps and lorries, one chap admired my crazy sunglasses, and many admired J in her red suit. Eventually we found a space in a tea shop where we could get some lunch. As I looked around, at all the ladies in hats drinking tea, we all looked so smart. The people not in costume were the ones who looked out of place.

Up at the castle we met a detachment of soldiers, and then headed down to the station. Once you are dressed in costume, and standing by a steam train, well of course you immediately go all Brief Encounter. It was just a shame that we didn’t have a ticket to travel to the other stations up the line, to encounter the German army at ‘Le Visham’ and the Home Guard at Goathland. Ah well, another year.

We browsed the stalls in the station car park, exclaiming over the style (and the price) of the Forties outfits and hats, and both J and I squealed at the sight of the National Dried Milk Tins, which for both of us, had been the ‘sugar tin’ in our childhoods.

Eventually, when my feet were starting to give up in their original Forties shoes, with their original leather porous soles, we went back to K & V’s to a dinner of delicious corned beef hash, and wartime music. Fantastic!

*In the ‘hat suitcase’ – yes, I have a suitcase which is just full of hats