The thing I like most about Bicester Heritage is that if you were to reach out and push against the red brick buildings, they stand strong. It's real brick. The guys on the lathes aren't actors or dummies from a museum, they're engineers and mechanics, and they're doing their job. There's no fakery or false pretence, no twee rehash from a faded photograph.
Think of the Sunday Scramble as a cross between an open day and a mega car meet. The specialists open their doors, the gliding club still flies. Old biplanes splutter around over the 1920s buildings completing the soundtrack to the historic airfield.
It’s an event that lives and breathes around you. Cars come and go, if someone leaves after a couple of hours, there’s another classic burbling into the space it left - the massive hangar doors being the prime spot for photos. It was a common sight to see someone sitting in a car with a smile on their face, holding a steering wheel, whilst the owner leans on the door frame talking though the particulars.