It’s Monday morning and we are back on the building site. I hear the gentle hum of power tools and smell the pleasant aroma of radiator paint and skirting board glue.

Quite a change from yesterday, when the deafening roar of racing cars and the overpowering smell of elderly engines assaulted the senses. But what an exciting day it was. It got my adrenaline pumping, I can tell you! Sunday was race day at the annual ‘Circuit des Ramparts’ in Angoulême. For nine years, the Oldies lived just 40 km from the capital of the departement of Charente and had never once got around to going to the famous ramparts race. Now 15 years on and after travelling 1,700 km from Austria, they’d finally made it. About time!

The old town centre of Angoulême is situated high on a plateau and the surrounding ramparts are narrow, steep and full of hairpin bends – a nightmare to negotiate by car. So, of course, some genius came up with the idea of staging a car race on this circuit. It was a great hit from the beginning and has since become the event of the year in the Charente, with drivers (along with their cars) coming from as far away as Australia. It is particularly popular with the British, a car mad nation if ever there was one. So much so, that even the commentary throughout the races is conducted half in French, half in English.

We arrived early, knowing that parking on the plateau could prove to be a challenge. We were lucky enough to get a spot fairly close to the largest display of vintage cars at the Champ de Mars. In our car park alone, I spotted a Ferrari, a Lotus and a Maserati – and these were just visitors to the event. This was promising, and it indeed proved to be a feast for car fanatics. Even Her Ladyship, who wouldn’t give a thank you for a Lamborghini unless it’s a tractor (she’s more into agricultural machinery and heavy plant than cars), was spotted drooling over the collection of vintage Fiat 500s. Well, they’re about her size I suppose.

All seats on the viewing stands had already been sold out back in May so we had the cheap tickets – standing room only. These were not the worst option, as we had access to the ‘paddock’ where all the cars were prepared pre-race (plenty of horse power there!), as well as to large sections of the upper levels of the ramparts where we had excellent views of the course.

My favourite spot was the paddock where we could examine the cars at our leisure before the races, admire the drivers – guys and gals alike – in their onesies and watch some last minute touches being put to cars that had had technical problems or close encounters with the railings in the warm-up rounds. I wasn’t overly gone on the noise or smell, but the machines themselves were fascinating. It is hard to believe that some of those ancient vehicles, some of which look more like boats on wheels rather than cars, have been racing since the early decades of the last century.

It was a long but exhilarating day. I was dizzy from the fumes and practically deaf by the time we got home. That racing car craic could get under your feathers though.

I feel the need. The need for speed. Vroom!