Sunday, October 16, 2005
Out of the aeroplane into the sea
I cheered when I heard this story, a R.A.F. jet crashing into the sea off Scotland.
The times I wished for a shoulder mounted surface to air missile to shoot one of those annoying bastards down as they thundered low over my head, circled and did the same again, and again, and again.
They practice this low flying over mid Wales too. The reverberations had just died down from a jet passing directly overhead at a few hundred feet interrupting a conversation between me and my grandfather. I was about to pick up where we left off when he said to me with a straight face, "you probably didn't realise there's still a war going on up here."
The times I wished for a shoulder mounted surface to air missile to shoot one of those annoying bastards down as they thundered low over my head, circled and did the same again, and again, and again.
They practice this low flying over mid Wales too. The reverberations had just died down from a jet passing directly overhead at a few hundred feet interrupting a conversation between me and my grandfather. I was about to pick up where we left off when he said to me with a straight face, "you probably didn't realise there's still a war going on up here."
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