what better way to spend it than at the monthly farmers market in the town and a day at the motor races....? First let me draw attention to the blue sky and shadows... I know for many this is nothing much to have attention drawn to, but, if you glance back through recent pages of the blog, you won't find pictures with either..... there is good reason for that. The Royal Market charter granted to Wetherby has a long and continuous history going back to the year 1240. 
It is not every town that has the right to have traders plying their goods on the street on regular days. Fair dos there are quite a few such towns in Yorkshire but not many with the history of this one.... Anyway,,, we have a general street market every Thursday for traders from near and far but once a month, on the second Sunday, the local farmers only are allowed into town to set up stalls and hawke their produce. What that means is that we get the chance to buy meats, vegies, herbs, breads and all sorts of stuff made, grown and produced on our local farms.. It is a great treat not only giving us lovely cheeses, smoked stuff and real fresh vegies but also because the farmers are such a chatty bunch. As far as we can determine every one of them has either lived in, has a brother currently, a daughter about to, a friend staying, or is just back from a trip to Australia. The result is, as happened again yesterday, it usually takes about 20 minutes to buy any one item as there is great animated discussion about the journey time, the wonders seen and why anyone would leave Sydney to live in England.... A question quickly dealt with from our now well-honed experience in such chats by saying "Not England, in Wetherby!' to which the wistful misty eyed response of 'Eh, by gum' hints the local farmer acknowledges all the wonders of life here and gives a small sigh and a smiled nod......Before re-launching in to tell us all about the food, the heat, the birds, the beaches, the spiders and the wonderful time had in Australia... 
Just up t' road from town, a couple of rural miles, there is a large estate owned by the royal family, well, by cousins of the royal family, called Harewood House. It owns a great chunk of Yorkshire, part of which has a hill climb car circuit laid into it. www.harewoodhill.com for those interested. This snap shows the course which is the longest hill climb course in Europe. I presume there are more than two. For me it triggers memories of the early days of Bathurst before it went all professional and V8 only. For the past few years I had seen the Hillclimb signs as I passed by in season and as the sun was shining I dragged Gail, not complaining too much, for an afternoon releasing my inner gearhead.
The club is very open with lots of categories for all different sorts of cars. If you don't know, hill climb is car against the clock. Each driver motors to the start and the clock is started when the car leaves the chock, it is then a battle of tuning, skill and conditions against the hill and the best total time and top speed over a measured section. I could go on about the intricate mechanical balance required and the changes the wind and track conditions make but who cares? The roar of the motors, the jokes by the commentators, the willing daring-do of the drivers and the pretty vehicles all make the afternoon a hoot, even for Gail. 
As well as all this, the scenery around the track is none too shabby and when you top it off with a sausage on a roll and a few chips there is nothing much more a rev-head could want. 
Unless it is a wander through the history of Aston Martin expressed in racing tune sheet metal and sparkling chrome 
Or the smell of high octane racing fuel venting spent from the exhaust of a formula open wheeler being tuned
Or the witty banter and generous offers to 'why not take one out for a spin on the track?' from the Arbarth sponsor reps.... that was made to Gail not, regrettably, the old fart she was with at the time... I would have taken them up on it.
But there it is, a short but sunny day in Wharfdale, may they be more plentiful as the season rolls on.
