The Red Arrows (and me) - and a Flare -up, also me

On Thursday the little educational bit in Bargain Hunt was about the Red Arrows, interviewing one of the pilots.  They do these spectacular flying displays at speeds of  - if I heard this right! - 600 miles an hour, flying only feet apart in the most extraordinary configurations.  Without bumping into each other, or falling out of the sky. Amazing people, truly.

The above is a photo Col took some years ago when they were doing a display locally.

So, a thought, just in case under some new Equal Opportunities Law, I am hired to become a Red Arrow pilot, and you actually see me zimmering towards the cockpit, full of reckless over-confidence brought on by years of various media telling me that us wimmin can do anything, please stop me before I make it to the cockpit!  It won't be difficult, Just turn off the Stairlift they will have to have had installed to get me up there.

Don't let me leave the ground, or the whole elite squadron would be wiped out in an instant as I tried to remember which was the clutch and which was the brake.

As far as the Red Arrows go, I am definitely the wrong stuff.  But I very much admire those who are the right stuff.

What will there be in the way of air transport when the whole earth is paradise?  We will not need any warplanes for starters, as we will study war no more. The whole earth will be at peace, real peace.  And we won't be in a hurry to get anywhere. There will be all the time in the world.  But we might of course fly.  In my travelling days I used to think what a privilege it is to be above the clouds - or among the clouds.  To see countries and coastlines miles below,

So who knows?  The main thing is to search for our Creator, Jehovah, now, while he is to be found and to be there and find out.

Have you ever had one of those flying dreams?   Now I don't suppose we will ever be able to fly in that sense, like a load of Peter Pans, but once again, why not be there in the restored earthly paradise to find out.

By the way, what a sad story Peter Pan is.  Peter flies out of his nursery window every night, has his adventures, then returns to his nursery.  But, one day, he flies back to find the window closed and locked and his mother sitting on the bed nursing a new baby. She won't look up at his taps on the window, or let him in. 

And so he becomes one of the lost boys, and needs Wendy to mother him.

I had a sad - well it wasn't sad exactly - dream last night. We were back in Saudi again - Col had got us re-hired and I was trying to negotiate the vast supermarket/food hall system that, in my dream, had replaced our dining hall.  I was wandering round with my tray realising that, even if I worked it out, I didn't have riyals so couldn't buy anything.  Then I woke up and found Col was already up and making breakfast.

What I should have done in the dream was enjoyed the feeling of being able to wander about a supermarket with no pain - that is probably my current equivalent of the flying dream.

I have had a terrible, painful, debilitating flare up - everything hurting so much, and have been left with a new pain in my left leg.  But I guess this is what approaching 80 years old with a chronic condition is.