Sunday November 7th
Cold dawn breaks over Hyde Park.
No lack of modernity, no conceit broken.
Dressed for time and the elements.
Historic car engines steam and flood the starting line.
Expectant chatter of automotive passion.
The welcome wave of spectators.
Children hold up signs that call for a “horn”.
The astonishment on their faces when greeted with a croak.
Hot coffee in a street cafe.
We finally cross the street, windswept and tired.
The Grand Hotel in Brighton that lives up to its name.
Cold air and adventurous slumber have never felt so good.