On Sunday I went to the Air Show in Bray, Co. Wicklow. The papers say that there were 50,000 people there, but from my vantage point the crowd looked pretty sparse. I watched the air show from on top of Bray head, where, I had a good view of the people standing on the 'beach' below ... and the planes above (sort of) ... and the dark, gray clouds that seemed to be everywhere.
Maybe it was the weather - cool, very windy, gray - but I didn't really enjoy the show. In fact, I would certainly have given it a miss, if not for my eight-year-old son's insistence. So we made the trip to the top of the hill and watched as planes did their thing. And, I didn't really mind the planes, but I could have lived without the helicopters, all of which seemed to do the same thing and all well below where we were.
Having picked our way past a few dozen blue children - did I mention that if Al Roker had been on Bray Head he'd have been talking about wind chill - we were fortunate to find a couple of uncomfortable rocks to sit on, on the slightly-less-windy sea-side of the hill. And there we stayed for two and a bit hours watching planes and helicopters and helicopters and planes. Once or twice there multiple planes, but mostly it was one plane or one helicopter at a time.
Within 20 minutes I was pretty bored and by the end of the first hour I was ready for sleep (although I understand that hypothermia can do that to you). Just couldn't work up any enthusiasm for the flying display whatsoever.
Did I mention that this was my third year at the Bray Air Show? Yup, three times there, each time because the same small boy insisted.
At least I had the foresight to bring a book this year, which I would have read if that aforementioned small boy had not insisted on having my full attention every time there was a lull in the proceedings. The book was a very good idea, but, in the end, all it was was extra weight in the the bag on my back for both our ascent and descent.
Did I mention the mud? Some other time maybe.
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