To suggest my social diary’s lightly sprinkled with engagements is a gross overexaggeration — in fact, it’s so empty that on a couple of occasions NASA’s published photos of it captured by the James Webb telescope.

When it comes to invitations, I’m the archetypal “I’ll be there if I can” kinda guy, which invariably translates as “I’ll be there unless I remember about a pile of old car brochures that can’t not be sorted immediately or YouTube’s algorithm decided I need to watch a compilation of every Doctor Who intro in chronological order”. At times I wish I was kidding, but see for yourself…

Every rule has its exception, of course — otherwise the above would make for a blog post as tragic for its brevity as well as its content — and for me it’s pivoting my work/life balance around the annual Hagerty Festival of the Unexceptional.

Staged once again upon the ancient lawns of Grimsthorpe Castle in south Lincolnshire, 2024’s event was a welcome respite on a personal level after a busy few months of freelancing. Somewhat unusually for me, I was looking forward to — no, craving — interaction with people in real life whose faces are mostly familiar from time spent thumbing through my social media timelines.

Having cultivated a considerable amount of face foliage in recent years, made all the more distinctive with its badgeresque tonal qualities — I refuse to be drawn on comparisons regarding its roughness — meant I was less incognito in this arena of automotive celebration than I usually am in ordinary life. Far from being peopled-out after the first hour, it was a great opportunity to chat all day to new folk who introduced themselves as much as it was chewing the cud with those I’ve known for years.

All of which was a welcome accompaniment to the reason everyone was gathered in the first place: old cars.

Not just any old cars, because FOTU, as it’s affectionately abbreviated to, is a celebration of those vehicles that were once staples of the roadscape, the type of motors that you could pretty much guarantee would have been parked up on every other street from our childhood, the ones that were so commonplace that they were hardly noticed when they were new.

Today they are special precisely because they weren’t special in the first place. They’re rare, not due to being produced in miniscule numbers, but because only miniscule numbers of them have survived. Models that were intended to be as near-ephemeral as cars can be, yet here they are, having their moment in the sun regardless of whether they’re impossibly pristine and looking showroom fresh or lucky to have had a wash due to their busy roles as daily drivers.

I could go on and on — and on some more — but I’ll spare you that because 1) I am busy with work, no really I am, which has left the blog rather neglected in recent weeks, so apologies for that and 2) because the photos do a far better job of showcasing FOTU than my rambling ever would.

Enjoy the image gallery, drop me a line in the comments about how many times you said “I can’t remember the last time I saw one of those” as you scroll through and keep your diary clear for 2025’s FOTU.

You can thank me when you see me — just look for my doom blue Mégane Scénic or beard.