There are some days that remind you why it is worth making the effort.
Life gets busy. Diaries fill up. Plans get moved around. Before you know it, weeks have passed and you realise you have not spent proper time with the people who matter most. That was exactly why my recent trip to Heveningham Hall Country Show and Heveningham Concours felt so special.
It was a belated Father’s Day day out with my dad, and honestly, it was one of those days I will remember for a long time.
I live in Brighton now, which I love, but it does mean that days with my dad are no longer as simple as popping round or heading out for a quick lunch. They take a bit more planning. Trains, diaries, weekends, work, life. All the usual stuff. So when we do get a proper day together, I try to make the most of it.
Heveningham was the perfect excuse.
If you love cars, it is a genuinely brilliant event. Not just because of the machinery on display, although that was ridiculous in the best possible way, but because of the setting. There is something quite surreal about seeing some of the world’s most beautiful, rare and expensive cars arranged across the lawns of a grand Suffolk estate.
It does not feel like walking around a normal car show. It feels more like stepping into someone’s very elegant, very expensive dream garage.
There were the sort of cars that make you stop mid-sentence. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Bugattis, Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, Porsches and proper classic cars everywhere you turned. The kind of cars you usually only see online, in auction catalogues or behind ropes at museums. At Heveningham, they were just there, sat on the grass, looking completely at home.
That is what I love about events like this. It is not just about horsepower or value. It is about stories. Who owned it? Where has it been? Why does it matter? What era does it represent? Why does one shape, one badge or one engine note still stop people in their tracks decades later?
The variety was what made it so good. One minute you could be looking at a beautifully preserved classic, the next you were standing near something modern, dramatic and completely outrageous. It had that proper mix of elegance and theatre.
Then there was the wider country show around it. Arena displays, hill runs, classic planes, motorbikes, food, families, sunshine and, somehow, even a man with a jet pack. It had that lovely slightly eccentric British summer event energy where you are never entirely sure what you are going to see next.
But as much as I loved the cars, the best part was the time with my dad.
We walked, chatted, pointed things out to each other, disagreed on favourites, had those little passing conversations you only really get when you are not rushing anywhere. No big agenda. No pressure. Just a day out.
I think that is what made it feel more meaningful. Cars have always been part of my world in one way or another, but they are also a brilliant backdrop for spending time with people. You do not need to talk constantly. You can just wander, look, react, laugh and occasionally say, “Imagine owning that.”
That is enough.
Since moving away from Norfolk and building my life in Brighton, I have become much more aware of the effort it takes to keep family time in the diary. It is not that the distance is huge, but it changes things. Spontaneous becomes scheduled. Easy becomes organised. A quick visit becomes a weekend plan.
So when a day like Heveningham happens, I appreciate it.
I went for the cars, but I came away thinking more about time. Time with family. Time away from the usual routine. Time doing something that makes you feel like a kid again, even if only for a few hours.
And yes, the cars were incredible.
But the real highlight was having a proper father-son day out.
That is the bit I will remember most.
