War Weekend

It's that time of year when, as the trees disrobe in swirls of gold and bronze, and as our breath starts to cloud the air, we humans rediscover nostalgia. There is something about the lengthening of the dark hours and the reflective nature of the season that turns the mind to times gone by. As the world settles down to sleep, we snuggle down and tell stories beside the metaphorical fire.

It is therefore the perfect time of year for Pickering to hold its internationally acclaimed War Weekend.

A staggering number of aficionados descend upon the town each year in order to dress up in costumes and recreate the look, if not the feel, of the Second World War. There are extremes of dedication, of course, but a reliably large crowd of people enjoy the occasion, with bands playing '40s music in the streets while people dance and reminisce with complete stangers. Visitors travel from all over the world to participate, and we are awash with camper vans and classic vehicles for a few glorious days.

The town centre is parked up with old cars and even some tanks. The steam engine fore-swears Harry Potter in favour of Winston Churchill, and the pubs hang out the flags and party like it's 1945. There is an American contingent along to show willing, and lots of events tied into the theme of the weekend.

When we went along the local Beck Isle Museum was doing a roaring trade.

The Beck Isle has a wealth of artefacts from Yorkshire farming history and rural life. Like the Tardis, it is larger inside than it seems from the outside, and you could easily spend the afternoon pottering among the rooms and sheds living in a different time zone. Fortunately there do not appear to be Daleks.

To my mind this year the War Weekend was made rather more modern with the venerable Dame Vera Lynn, the "Forces' Sweetheart", recently topping the album charts at the age of, I believe, 92 and showing the young whipper-snappers of my children's generation how it used to be done when their grandparents were young. Really, children of the noughties, you should hang your hoodies in shame! Where is your musical rebuff? Are there no more good tunes to be discovered? What were the Arctic Monkeys thinking of, to be dismissed in such a summary fashion?

Back at the War Weekend, I admit to being bemused as to why people would want to recreate a time of death, destruction, hunger and terror; a time when children were sent to live with strangers far away, there was not quite enough food and you were constantly in fear of bombs or gas attacks. Maybe it was different in Pickering, and my view is based on the London experience (I think I have admitted in the past to be a big southern softie). Certainly my mother shows very little interest in recreating that period of her life, when she was a frightened teenager sleeping in a bomb shelter and living on powdered egg and margarine. Although she did like the glamorous American service men and jitterbugging...

I have to confess though, that we did not go to the War Weekend this year. I was only reminded to write about it because of the volume of traffic on the roads as we drove home from a family occasion, and the many signs directing the hapless visitor towards the War Weekend Park and Ride. These pictures are from a couple of years ago. However, I doubt the fashions or accessories have changed very much - in fact, by definition they will have changed not at all.