
Rather than our lovely, decorated and very smart tents, Lord March was after something altogether more rustic. Something that looked as if it had been sitting out on the plains for twenty years.
So, we set to work with acres of dustsheets, loads of mud, some helpful passing car tyres and 20 tons of dirty sand. Some days later, there it was: a yurt camp any self respecting nomad could call home... as long as he didnt mind being 20ft from the racing on the Goodwood track.