It was amazing, we lived off the buzz for days after and every time I think about it I get excited all over again. My son refused to come with us which was an absolute crusher but he learnt his lesson, the Vulcan flew over on its way to the show and blasted the house for me as a signal to never be so miserable again. He got the message and is looking forward to fully engaging in the next chapter of ‘year of the wings’.
The staff at RAF Cosford were absolutely amazing. The public absolutely trashed their workplace and they happily let us, dug us out of holes, found our lost children, directed our confused faces and never stopped smiling. Well done chaps, jolly good show. I also have to say the commentators were brilliant, so knowledgeable and amusing too. I will never forget the voice of Red1 as he commanded his team live over the loudspeaker.
What an experience. One thing that did strike me was how much of a contradiction my love of these fighter jets, their history, their power and what they represent is when compared to my softer than soft nature. I am a pacifist at heart and would end the fighting in an instant if it was possible. I shall call it my dark side, my need for speed and power, the bit of me that jumps up and down when I’m reminded how small and insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things yet still able to revel in the glory of mankind.
I was so in awe of everything I’d seen I completely forgot about the Canadian Grand Prix and was convinced I hadn’t watched it, but we had, I was still dreaming of jets is all.
Here’s the email I sent my ma the day after. Sums it all up.
I saw the Belgian display team, some parachuter’s, some jets that made my belly swoosh, a Euro fighter that set all the car alarms off, a spitfire doing loop de loops, a hurricane, the Red Arrows, a Vulcan, a Sea King, a Dakota with a waving loadmaster, a Lynx helicopter, biplanes and triplanes, wingwalkers, an Airbus, an Apache gun ship helicopter blowing things up, a bum or two hanging out of inappropriate short shorts, a pilot’s mess mobile bar (it’s been booked for the wedding/handfasting/promise ceremony) and a German sausage bar.
I jumped up and down when the jets were doing their afterburner things. People noticed and were jealous of my freedom to express myself.
We saw the best campervan ever, with a matching owner, he looked like he’d earned the right to enjoy that van and his freedom.
The toilets were the cleanest poshest portaloos I’ve ever used.
It rained twice, but we sat in the boot and didn’t miss a thing. The sun shone for the arrows which was great for seeing them but meant taking pictures was more difficult.
We bought a signed commemorative pic as the arrows are celebrating their 50th display season.
We choked up when we saw the stand dedicated to the dead arrow pilot’s charity.
Not a single cross face was spotted, no louts or drunkeness although there was plenty of alcohol.
What was unusual was the human adaptation of extra long extendable eyes. Everyone had black plug ins attached to their heads, pointed at the sky’s. They would stop dead in the path in front of you and start pushing buttons while looking towards the heavens then carry on. Some were longer than others, I noted it was mainly the men that had the big fat long ones, maybe it’s because you need good neck muscles to support the Borg like plugins, or maybe it’s a compensating for other departments thing.
We were one of those pointy clickers. I shall bore you periodically with the results of our plugin. Ours is small.