Wings

12Sep13

Sunday was my dad’s birthday. And rather than pass on a randomly appropriated gift of potentially limited appeal I decided that a visit to the Imperial War Museum at Duxford for an afternoon of aviation antics was more likely to succeed in providing us with interest and entertainment.

So whilst the weather settled slowly into autumn we watched an abundance of aeroplanes that my dad inevitably knew much more about than me – including Spitfires, of a largely baffling variety, Vampires, which sadly came from Norway rather than Transylvania, and a pair of splendidly stumpy Fennecs, which looked far more graceful in the air than they did on the ground.

Inevitably though, the highlights of the show (for me and most of those attending without comically long lenses) were the displays provided by the world’s oldest and the world’s most famous aerobatic demonstration teams, namely the Patrouille de France and The Red Arrows. Quite how anyone fails to be enthralled by such a sight is beyond me, but then sadly as more and more time passes most things are.

Happy birthday dad.

 



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