Saturday morning we get vaguely back on track as Melissa and Jeff show up, along with Mr. Y's stepfather, Mr. Y's brothers Alex and Sam and Alex's eldest daughter Ida. We trooped off to the Farnborough Air Show, with Mr. Y, Alex and Sam skitsy with excitement. Jeff came up to me and spent his time with me from then on, which made me happy, but I know it's not really due to any kind of lingering love of me, rather that I am child-friendly. I don't mind. He's hilarious and I'll take whatever crumbs I can get.

At the air show we set up a blanket near the runway, making sure the take-offs of the F-16, F-18, Saab Gripen, and Harrier thump into our chestbones and drag our throats out. It's thrilling, I love the sound of it. There's nothing like the roar of a massive aircraft to make you feel you have swallowed your throat inside out. I sat on the blanket, in the sun, usually with Jeff hanging on me in some way, Ida taking up space, and Melissa draped across the blanket.

The air show finished up and we went for a walk around the exhibits, Melissa taking up Mr. Y's arm and the planes taking up his attention. Walking past the American C-130 and the flight crews, waves of memories returned. As a child, with a military pilot father, we used to go to masses of air shows. Masses.

I remember one in particular, my mother pushing my sister in an orange umbrella stroller, my father striding tall with his camera at his side. Something happened at one airplane, tensions went insane, the sun got too hot to hold and my father strode off angrily. I turned and looked at the wing of the little military plane and saw a woman, laughing in the sun, long black hair. It dazzles with silver light in my memory, too much to remember anything in my mind besides the reflecting light, but I learned afterwards that the woman was one of my father's ex-mistresses.

I wonder how my mother felt that day.

The flight crews talked and laughed with attendees of the show, and I heard their voices, deep and even-vowelled. Others in my group made fun of the Americans (not Mr. Y) and asked me if I could do an "American to English" translation for them. I ignored them, but you know what? I was so homesick at that moment that I could've cried (and am now, actually). For just a moment I could've let my guard down and just spoke, not caring that I have the broad American accent. I could've talked to them about their airbases, use terms from the military that sit on dusty overlooked shelves in my brain. This was a part of my past here, people that I can relate to, and all I wanted to do was just stop missing the U.S. at that moment.

I can never go home again.

At least I can holiday there (and we are planning to in October).

I walked on, holding Jeff's hand, following the English posse that I was somewhat a part of.

Alex and Mr. Y have a deep love affair with a certain plane called a Vickers VC10. This plane is only owned by the RAF (note to self: I made a joke with someone here that my father was also in the RAF. They said: Really? And I replied innocently: Yes, the REAL Air Force! This was not popular and not to be repeated.) So much so that when a VC10 did a fly-by, the two of them were giddy with excitement.

But that was nothing.

Turns out a VC10 was there.

So of course, after the air show we headed for it. It was ringed off by a row of fences, and another man was standing there in awe. Now this man is what is called here in England an "anorak". An anorak of course is one of those waterproof rain jackets, the kind that plane spotters, train spotters and (ohmigod how sad and considered the lowest of the low in spotter hierarchy) bus spotters wear. Spotters, unlike the movie involving screwball Scottish heroin junkies, are a tame crowd. I read a book that discussed it-a spotter does anything from just noting what type of transport they are watching to needing to record serial numbers.

Dude. Serial numbers.

And I think I'm a bit nutty?

In general, a spotter is armed with a green fluroescent safety vest (a la construction workers-in Europe they're green. In the U.S. they're orange), a notebook, binoculars, a notebook (for recording info) and if they're of the train variety, a handy copy of the National Rail Enthusiast's guiebook, and the standard issue jacket-think Member's Only.

This man fit the bill, and I was a little worried he was going to orgasm all over the fence.

We walked on when, lo and behold, a pilot came out of the VC10 and was escorting the insanely happy spotter up the ramp into the VC10! Well, Mr. Y and Alex started racing to the ramp, children in tow. The pilot came out and explained he couldn't really do tours, but Mr. Y pulled a Puss-In-Boots cats expression, and the pilot came back for us later. Alex and Mr. Y were in a state of near catatonia with happiness, and when the pilot came out for us, they fired off lots of questions. Mr. Y's stepfather and I hung in the back, while Mr. Y and Alex learnt all they could about their fave plane.

I don't blame them a bit-if I ever got David Sedaris here, after all, I'd get him drunk and demand he tell me funny stories. I love history. I love reading about cultures and tribal rituals. We all have our own interests and different strokes for different folks, after all. I know they like planes, just as Mr. Y knows I like writing. We all have different things we get excited about. The good news is, he doesn't have an anorak or a notebook for recording things nor does he plan to (but his brother Sam is reaching that stage. I really think it's the point of no return.)

And I loved loved loved seeing Mr. Y happy like that.

I talked to a Yorkshire ground crew man for a while, seeing as there wasn't enough room for me in the cockpit with all of Mr. Y's family and extended family in there. I learnt a lot about the redundancy of the wings, the type of work a VC10 does, and how much the man enjoyed his work. He pointed to my troop, dizzy in the front flight deck.

"They're happy, it seems." he said.
"Yeah." I said, smiling. "Wet dreams all around."
He laughed so hard he choked. "I can't believe you said that!"

The good news is, I got lots of sun. Sun in England. I sat in it, sunblocked up to my eyeballs (it didn't work, though) and just enjoyed the thrill of the sound of the jets, the smooth movements of the 747, the utter delight of Mr. Y and Alex over the VC10, and the soft blanket beneath my legs.

Don't believe me about the sun?

View image

View image

-H.

PS-I'm a cheerleader for Rocket Ted's Blogger Bowl! Go Ted!

PPS-Jim's turned 1. And you know how I love Jim

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:22 AM | Comments (26) | Add Comment
Post contains 1252 words, total size 8 kb.

1 Seriously this serial number thing needs to be nipped in the bud.

Posted by: Simon at July 26, 2004 09:01 AM (UKqGy)

2 What the heck is that on your wall? looks like a bunch of pagers made into xmas ornaments. =) VC-10 looks a bit large for camping, but given the size of Mr Y's extended family, might be nessecary. Its surprising with all those men around you couldn't find one volunteer to put suntan lotion on your back... must have been the distraction of all those planes =)

Posted by: Dane at July 26, 2004 09:05 AM (ncyv4)

3 On the wall is a lighting display, like these but in blocks: http://www.ikea.co.uk/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/ProductDisplay?catalogId=10101&storeId=7&productId=42402&langId=-20&parentCats=13154*13160" And Jeff was nice and put some sunblock on me

Posted by: Helen at July 26, 2004 09:13 AM (pS7+B)

4 I think he missed a bit then and neil would be all excited about all that too. he doesn't have an anorak, but he does have the notebook

Posted by: melanie at July 26, 2004 10:20 AM (jDC3U)

5 I confess I don't get it about the VC-10. It's a civilian commuter plane, right? Isn't that like getting creamy over a 767? Great plane but ... ?? I can't believe you would support that dastardly vilain against the Dream Team. I'm crushed. Totally crushed. Don't sell Jeff's choice short. He's choosing to hang with you and that's very cool. :-)

Posted by: Jim at July 26, 2004 11:13 AM (behRF)

6 Burn looks painful. Try some aloe! By the way, if you happen to be passing through NY in October, drinks and/or dinner are on me.

Posted by: Random Penseur at July 26, 2004 11:19 AM (X3Lfs)

7 Jim, my precious, the VC10 is not a commuter plane. It's only for the military. There are 19 of them, all built in the UK, all owned by the RAF. Dude, I soaked up so much info! And about Ted? Um...well, he asked me and I have always wanted to be a cool cheerleader. But I can still hang out with and refresh the gatorade for the opposing team, right?

Posted by: Helen at July 26, 2004 11:20 AM (pS7+B)

8 I'm afraid I'm with Jim on this one. The Vickers VC10 may not be a commuter plane, but it's a RETIRED passenger plane-turned-tanker http://www.aeroflight.co.uk/types/uk/vickers/vc10/VC10.htm Not that the Americans aren't famous for this sort of thing (The AWACS is a converted 707, after all, and the KC-10 tanker is a DC-10 in AF blue-gray) Now watching a Harrier do that VTOL dance, that's pretty dreamy. And sometimes spotting can come in handy. There's a guy who photographed and cataloged online every single plane to land at Charlotte-Douglas International for about a year, listing them by tail number. Then one day, one of them crashed, and while running the tail number online, I found his site and a photo of the plane in question two weeks before it crashed. I don't know how much NBC paid him for that photo, but it probably paid for the digital camera, at least.

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at July 26, 2004 12:35 PM (1APwW)

9 Sorry, you guys are right-some of the VC10's have been used for passengers, and some of them are tankers. None of them carry civilian passengers now, due to potential lawsuits. I should've been clearer. Wonder if Mr. Y will give me a lesson later

Posted by: Helen at July 26, 2004 12:49 PM (pS7+B)

10 It could make for interesting bedroom talk... "Oh, tell me about how many litres per minute the VC10 can PUMP into a Nimrod over the North Atlantic" "I'm ready for docking, so send me your refueling hose" "It's not the size so much as the pressure that matters"

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at July 26, 2004 12:55 PM (1APwW)

11 You're right. We should skip the talk and head straight for the spankings.

Posted by: Helen at July 26, 2004 01:02 PM (pS7+B)

12 And for maximum amusement during the spankings, say something like "At least American tankers don't look like they just let off an Irish tour group at Gatwick" Man, it's 1 p.m over there? Can I switch time zones?

Posted by: Z. Hendirez at July 26, 2004 01:20 PM (1APwW)

13 Do we need to have a boring lecture about the dangers of sunburns Miss Helen? It looks like the answer is "Yes". I'm not a big fan of the sun; I love cool, cloudy, misty days in the mid to upper 60s. That might change if I lived someplace where it was like that 50% or more of the time though. Next time I see a sunburn, your entire blog audience is going to get an intentionally boring (as dry as I can possibly make it) lecture on the hazards of sunburn The lecture will be far more painful than the sunburn itself.

Posted by: Solomon at July 26, 2004 01:28 PM (k1sTy)

14 Me and my skin cancer (you can see the scars on my back) already know it, Solomon. But my heart is so desperate for sun that it's bitch-slapped the hell out of my memory and I can't remember the dangers.

Posted by: Helen at July 26, 2004 01:48 PM (pS7+B)

15 Well, okay. As long as you're hanging out with the Dream Team I guess it's all right. You'd still be wearing the skimpy cheerleader outfit and all, won't you?

Posted by: Jim at July 26, 2004 01:51 PM (IOwam)

16 I know the feeling. While I don't like going out in the sun (never have), sometimes the heart wins, and I go out for sports or to hang out with the family. Sadly (for me) you can't hold a candle to the number of scars I've got. You could play connect the dots on my back and make an elaborate sailing ship Irish skin and a love for sports don't mix well.

Posted by: Solomon at July 26, 2004 02:42 PM (k1sTy)

17 It's funny how planes can evoke such an amazing reaction in boys... of any age! My son and I are just like Y and his son. Although it stops short of that serial number thing. Have you secured your endorsement deal to be the new Coppertone UK girl? Ouch.

Posted by: Paul at July 26, 2004 03:31 PM (xdj7o)

18 Your making all the guys drool. Put your tongues back in your mouth....jeesh.

Posted by: Tiffani at July 26, 2004 03:42 PM (xpNFK)

19 Helen, Sorry to go OT again, but I don't have your e-mail address at work, and can't find it on the site. What is it? Hank

Posted by: Jiminy at July 26, 2004 04:39 PM (8JYcU)

20 Love airshows, but can't go to them anymore. Jim, like I said, you were probably concentrating on your draft picks, while I was concentrating on building the winning cheerleading squad. Nya nya.

Posted by: Ted at July 26, 2004 04:55 PM (blNMI)

21 OW! I hope Mr. Y is rubbing soothing aloe on that back, Helen. My heart lurched a bit when you wrote you can never come home to the US again. I would think that would be quite a big pill to swallow. But it sounds like you're having a great time where you are. You sound very happy. :-) And what's all this talk about spankings? Don't you know they're bad for you? ;-) Tsk!

Posted by: Amber at July 26, 2004 05:42 PM (zQE5D)

22 Girl, that looks painful. And that was with sunblock? Holy crumb.

Posted by: ilyka at July 26, 2004 06:47 PM (g5hXq)

23 true say simon

Posted by: be at July 26, 2004 09:17 PM (NZhB5)

24 While the sunburn still feels hot, put some vinegar in a spray bottle, put it in the fridge till it is cool and then spray it on. Stinks like hell, but it takes the heat out and takes away the pain completely. Trust me on this. Vinegar is the only way to go, I live in the desert and keep some in my fridge at all times. After the heat is gone, and it's not painful, THEN use aloe vera to heal the skin. I am a VERY white chick who should have never come further south than well, anywhere there is sun. I even get the brown patches from oil from any kind of citrus fruit if I get it on me and it's not dry when I go out in the sun. My dermatologist tells me they don't see that out west so much, usually only people of english descent, and usually only back east. He took me around and showed a spot I had from Chanel #5 to all the other doctors because they'd never seen it, and probably would have biopsied it, but he did his residency in Boston so he knew what it was. Chanel #5 has orange oil in it, and if I put anything like that on my skin, I get a hideous brown spot, that stays for months and finally has to wear off. I have a small spot right now on my upper lip from some orange juice I drank while weeding the yard. He told me no margarita's by the pool with lime, lemon, orange etc..... Anyway, I digress. Try the vinegar. It works, you'll see.

Posted by: Donna at July 26, 2004 10:59 PM (U4iYg)

25 Construction workers in the US wear green too. I am clad in "lime" at work. Lime and silver reflective. Also, the sunburn? Looks like it sucks. Alot. Cold showers and aloe, should fix ya right up. One more - Home is where you make it. If the US is home in your heart, then it always will be. However, if home is in England, with the man you love, then I wouldn't worry about not ever being able to live here again.

Posted by: Tami at July 27, 2004 01:08 AM (r+S4w)

26 Aloe has always been a good friend-I used to keep aloe in the fridge and apply it to sunburns, which of course is like stabbing yourself with frozen pokers it hurts/feels s o good on a sunburn. Never tried vinegar before...hmm...

Posted by: Helen at July 27, 2004 11:59 AM (pS7+B)

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