Vulcanised

So Sunday morning Vicky and me headed off at the crack of dawn (well if not the crack, the echo) to RAF Cosford just a couple of runways away from Telford.

I seem to have become an Air Show junkie, this being my second in as many months. Now as I said below I’m a touch conflicted by these events, what with me being a lefty relic from the eighties CND movement and all that. I remember being a sixth form anti war barracker pontificating against the Falklands Conflict yet here I will be oooooing and ahhhhing at a Vulcan bomber that was like the ones that bombed 19 year old Argentinean conscripts. I decided that at least i could throw in the odd tutt amongst those oooos and ahhhhs.

We arrived at the airbase at 8ish. Some cars were being stopped and searched by eager young military personnel. I was just relieved that we hadn’t used my car, which is so full of junk, they would still be sifting through it now.

Neither of us had been to this show before so we weren’t sure of the drill. We decided to find a spot by the runway and mark our pitch with our camping mats. I must admit next to the elaborate set up of Air Show veterans, complete with windbreaks, chairs tables parasols at al, ours looked a bit woeful, but we at least had a good spot. After all location is everything.

We left our pitch confident that it would not be disturbed, to wander around the stalls. The highlight was the Enigma code breaker machine, which if Hollywood is to believed was bravely stolen by Jon Bon Jovi. Our second favourite stall was the Air Force Intelligence stand, which had the best free stuff. Vicky impressed one of the imposing becamouflaged men manning the stand with the probing question, “What do the intelligent people do ?”

We weaved our way back through the growing throngs, picking our way carefully through the maze of picnic rugs and deckchairs. Our stake was still intact even though in was now hemmed in on all sides. As we slowly baked under the gas mark 8 sun the show began. The appetiser was a display by large model aircraft, which once aloft were tricky to distinguish from the real thing, except for their lawnmower sounding engines.

The first proper display were the parachute display team. I was pleased their parachutes worked better than my childhood Action Man one, which if my memory serves me right just made the Action man’s death plummet more colourful. I was most impressed with the accompanying music which was from the brilliant documentary film Fog of War. As we sat, lay and stood our way through 6 hours of flying Vicky and me jostled to take the best photographs. Vicky and me are so competitive that we will compete/argue/bicker over just about anything. We were well matched, I may have had the better camera but Vicky’s reactions are like a fast jet pilot to mine of a balloonist.

Once the mighty and spocktacular (sic) Vulcan had become a dot we decided to make a bolt for home. It was clearly going to be a battle to get off the car park in under an hour. Our finely tuned sense of direction, spatial awareness and spritely car control served us well. We finally left the car park 2 1/2 hours later after managing to find the longest and slowest moving of the many intertwined car cues. As I flopped down on my sofa at quarter to nine, I looked at the gaping empty suitcase needing to be packed for the next morning’s trip to our Brighton conference I thought If man can put 40 tons of metal in the sky then I’m sure I can pack in the morning.

Its not the most poetic end to a post but when your as knackered as I was eloquence can get stuffed

BTW there are some planes in the album at the bottom

 

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