Oh my satchel, England has some interesting festivals. This one in Dorset is dedicated to the glory of coal, steam, horse power and diesel. Wandering around you come across rows of beautifully maintained steam engines, some big, some small, the largest collection of musical organs, can-can girls, vintage cars, stalls to test your strength, merry-go-rounds, women on tractors, lots of cider and lots of steam. Steam that takes me back to some distant collective memory I can't quite recall, a living part of history, right there and working hard and honestly in front of me. People come in their hundreds of thousands to this festival, in their comfie camper vans with their family pets, Mr Handsome and I met some folks that knew how combine harvesters work and what time the sun sets, who make things with their hands still, and smile when they greet you, we drank cider with them made onsite, pressed by a harnessed donkey close by. I can't recall the name of the cider, and forgot to take a picture of the donkey, but I can recall that who we met along the way were salt of the earth, who bring their own metallic cups to festivals, drink without their shirts on, don't care that pink hot pants don't go with hiking boots, and understand and treasure the beauty and simplicity of way back when.
