Well there I was at zero feet - nothing on the altimeter
except the maker's name (and even that was peeling off!). No seriously, I was
motoring gently along and couldn't have been doing more than 50 knots - that's
about 58 in real money. Of course it's all very approximate as the speedo
dodges around a bit and I can't see it very clearly without my glasses anyway.
Isn't old age a bore? It is not easy even with my specs, as the original owner
(an Englishman living in Paris) specified mph and kph for the speedometer, so
the dial is a bit cramped ! But I
digress.
So anyway, for a change
I was not ‘pressing on’ and the loudest noise in the vicinity was that damned
rattle from the nearside running board which I have been trying to locate for months.
Suddenly my ears picked up the quite unique and indeed magical sound of a Merlin
at full chat. Was I dreaming? Luckily my devotion to open-air motoring allowed me
to gaze skywards without having to crane out of a window. Mind you, the effect was
the same, as I did wander around the carriageway a little - much to the consternation
of an unfeeling yob behind me in some modern tinware who had his wireless on full
blast (as they do) and couldn't hear what I could hear.
There it was - that unmistakable silhouette
of a Spitfire against a clear blue sky. Oh joy! Oh rapture! I think such sight
and sound should be available on the National Health Service, for all in need
of a fillip. Depression would become a thing of the past. There would be a
distinct danger of an epidemic of neck strain as we all gazed upwards. Well worth
it!
Until next time
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