Like the boy on the bus on my way once more to the Wetherspoons K and I visited on Monday, so heart-rendingly reminiscent of my cousin at the same sort of 13-ish stage of his life. And the blog post quoting a US religiofascist as suggesting there is no such thing as adolescence, that the dividing line between child and adult is an individual's thirteenth birthday (a position which, with tongue planted firmly in cheek, I would enthusiastically endorse, given its implications for the age of consent!). Impossible to avoid the hagiographic media coverage of the Queen's ninetieth birthday, and equally impossible for me to avoid feelings of bitterness that my dad, born just four weeks later than the monarch, has been dead for more than thirty years, testimony, if any were needed, of how much better looked after royalty are than coal miners.
The attention-grabbing moment that began this train of thought, though, was something totally different. I was, as part of my day's meanderings, over in East London, on a bus route I'd never used before. As the bus crossed a bridge over part of the former Royal Docks complex, I noticed that we were just about to pass, at ninety degrees and a distance of no more than a couple of hundred yards, the 'takeoff' end of the runway at London City Airport. And an aircraft was, indeed, just at the point of taking off, obviously at its full departure speed, 150 mph, or whatever. But it was, from my perspective, on the top deck of the bus at the highest point of the bridge, about twenty feet below me at that moment! Needless to say, as soon as the plane got into the air it climbed rapidly and was never in the slightest danger of coming anywhere near the bus, but it was certainly the sort of experience that lets you know how good your nerves are!
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
The attention-grabbing moment that began this train of thought, though, was something totally different. I was, as part of my day's meanderings, over in East London, on a bus route I'd never used before. As the bus crossed a bridge over part of the former Royal Docks complex, I noticed that we were just about to pass, at ninety degrees and a distance of no more than a couple of hundred yards, the 'takeoff' end of the runway at London City Airport. And an aircraft was, indeed, just at the point of taking off, obviously at its full departure speed, 150 mph, or whatever. But it was, from my perspective, on the top deck of the bus at the highest point of the bridge, about twenty feet below me at that moment! Needless to say, as soon as the plane got into the air it climbed rapidly and was never in the slightest danger of coming anywhere near the bus, but it was certainly the sort of experience that lets you know how good your nerves are!
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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