Hoops and Loops

I was cooking my supper yesterday evening prior to going out early when another roar summoned me to the back door and there were the Red Arrows again, going the other way this time. Two lots of five, not seven. I must have got over-excited last time and exaggerated slightly. An amazing sight, 10 pilots, presumably all young men, whizzing past in perfect harmony with each other. I fancy they may be based in Lincolnshire, which is probably just a few minutes flight from here. But how do they all land? Do 9 circle around, looping the loop, while one puts down, and so on? What if they all want to get home first?

A piece of paper has appeared across the lane, inelegantly pinned to a tree beyond the ditch so that you have to lean right over to read it. I'm waiting for passing cars to career into the hedge as they spot it and try to make it out. It's notice of a planning application from Sarah my neighbour, who wants to build a studio in her grounds. She's had all sorts of obstacles thrown in her way by the council, from the need to protect the great crested newt to bats and some insect that might or might not live in the long grass. You really couldn't make it up. Every search that has to be conducted costs her £500, but that part of her garden is designated agricultural land because once someone kept pigs there, and so she has to climb through one hoop after another, and all to build something not very much bigger than my summerhouse. Have they nothing better to do at town hall?

It's a bank holiday weekend and I'm doing what the rest of the world is doing - getting into my car and going away for a few days. It's good to be at one with my fellow man.