The first step had been asking Nick the shepherd to round up his flock. It was the summer of 1993 and the Earl of March was following a long-held dream of bringing motorsport back to his Goodwood estate in West Sussex. Tents had been erected, bales had been laid along the track and a makeshift gantry had been constructed. The night before the gates opened, the Earl himself could be found painting a freshly built bridge in the drizzle. But here was the question: would anyone come?
The British Automobile Racing Club had predicted a crowd of perhaps 2,000 to what would be the inaugural Goodwood Festival of Speed. By the end of the weekend, 25,000 people had poured into the estate, among them George Harrison at the wheel of a Light Car Company Rocket. A decade later, in June 2003, with the festival now an annual fixture in the calendar, the ticketed attendance had swelled to 158,000. They say sex sells—here was the evidence that speed does the same.
In this respect, the festival was no outlier. The summer social Season has always been fond of thronged gatherings at which velocity means victory. Think of Royal Ascot, where the fleetest horses gallop at speeds approach- ing 50mph—can’t you hear the drum-roll thundering of those hooves?—or Henley Royal Regatta, where straining muscles propel eight-oared racing shells through the water with almost supernatural swiftness.
Denne historien er fra April 24, 2024-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra April 24, 2024-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prÞveperiode pÄ Magzter GOLD for Ä fÄ tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choiceâ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loavesâEmma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround usâbut not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: âIt is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.â I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning