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Personal rubbish etc.
Aug. 25th, 2009 12:28 pmWhereas my cup should be overflowing with the results from the Cricket [note capitalisation] and the fact that Spurs are top of the league, small niggles have kept me grounded.
We weekended (awful coinage, that) in Brighton, or Sodomy-on-Sea, as Julie Burchill once called it. Shoreham Airport (one of SWMBO's clients) hosted its annual 'Battle of Britain' airshow and RAFA, who were the organisers, pulled out the stops, bringing Spitfires, Hurricanes, Lancasters, Mustangs, etc to the happy multitude. Of note were an couple of ME109's and a B17....but to an Englishman, the sound of a Rolls-Royce Merlin engine stirs the heart like nothing this side of Olivier as Harry giving his 'Once more into the breach' routine, or Winston extolling 'the Few'.
From the airfield itself we had a spectacular view across the South Downs, and in one direction could see the English Gothic Revival Chapel of Lancing College. The day was beautiful, and apart from the airplanes and some of the fashions, it could have been a summer's day in England any time in the last three hundred years.
Sixty-nine years ago, these same skies were full of brave young men, in what were the fastest, sleekest craft of their time, knocking seven bells out of each other.
Which brought to mind many things: how much I hate war, and how thankful I am that we won that one, being but two.
Stayed at a little boutique hotel called Hotel Du Vin. Nice place, and I can recommend it if you have that sort of money to spend on frivolities.
In an attempt to keep in step with the general atmosphere of Brighton, Madame and I embarked upon a marathon of.....horizontal and vertical exercise, ending alas when she broke it. (And I almost fainted: there are places to have bruises, but your knob ain't one of them.) The bruising is receding, but.....I am delicate from birth and not used to such rough handling.
I suppose, when I recover, it will be liking getting back on the horse and putting it to the fence again. But as for now I'm blaming her roughness rather than my weakness.
Nurse, it's time for my bed-bath. More drugs too.
We weekended (awful coinage, that) in Brighton, or Sodomy-on-Sea, as Julie Burchill once called it. Shoreham Airport (one of SWMBO's clients) hosted its annual 'Battle of Britain' airshow and RAFA, who were the organisers, pulled out the stops, bringing Spitfires, Hurricanes, Lancasters, Mustangs, etc to the happy multitude. Of note were an couple of ME109's and a B17....but to an Englishman, the sound of a Rolls-Royce Merlin engine stirs the heart like nothing this side of Olivier as Harry giving his 'Once more into the breach' routine, or Winston extolling 'the Few'.
From the airfield itself we had a spectacular view across the South Downs, and in one direction could see the English Gothic Revival Chapel of Lancing College. The day was beautiful, and apart from the airplanes and some of the fashions, it could have been a summer's day in England any time in the last three hundred years.
Sixty-nine years ago, these same skies were full of brave young men, in what were the fastest, sleekest craft of their time, knocking seven bells out of each other.
Which brought to mind many things: how much I hate war, and how thankful I am that we won that one, being but two.
Stayed at a little boutique hotel called Hotel Du Vin. Nice place, and I can recommend it if you have that sort of money to spend on frivolities.
In an attempt to keep in step with the general atmosphere of Brighton, Madame and I embarked upon a marathon of.....horizontal and vertical exercise, ending alas when she broke it. (And I almost fainted: there are places to have bruises, but your knob ain't one of them.) The bruising is receding, but.....I am delicate from birth and not used to such rough handling.
I suppose, when I recover, it will be liking getting back on the horse and putting it to the fence again. But as for now I'm blaming her roughness rather than my weakness.
Nurse, it's time for my bed-bath. More drugs too.
