Planes, Boats and Crop Tops
This weekend, I caught two separate people doing a McNaughty.
I also had a really lovely day out with my family, so I’m going to show you the photos from that first, and then those of you who feel like listening to me rant for a few thousand words can come back a bit later in the week for that one: sound fair?
So, when Terry and I were on our honeymoon, we were driving around aimlessly one day, when we discovered a stretch of beach which was right next to the airport runway, and I mean RIGHT NEXT TO IT. As in, the planes would fly over your head, and then two seconds later, they’d have landed. As in, you could see the whites of the pilot’s eyes as they flew overhead. It. Was. Terrifying.
Well, Terry and I have always wanted to scare the crap out of ourselves in the same way again, so on Sunday we drove to our local airport to try to recreate the experience, and we took my parents with us so they could be scared silly by giant aircraft flying over their heads, too.
Yes, I am wearing a crop top. I’ve actually had this top for about ten years now, and have considered getting rid of it numerous times, but something held me back: something that perhaps knew that one day I would buy this red skirt in the River Island sale and suddenly want to wear a crop top with it.
We actually couldn’t quite recreate the experience we’d had on holiday. Where we were standing was probably a good half mile from the end of the runway, so although the planes were pretty low, they weren’t quite as close as they had been in Spain. It was still pretty amazing, though. If you like really loud noises and feeling like you’re about to die, I recommend it.
Once we’d had our fill of scary aircraft, we headed into the countryside nearby for a walk:
We, er, took quite a few photos. Also, Terry wore a red shirt to match my skirt. We’re very matchy-matchy that way*.
(*He didn’t. My dad did, though.)
Then we made the short drive to Crammond, and had lunch sitting outside in the sun, next to the river.
We had lashings and lashings of ginger beer. OK, we had one can of ginger beer between four of us. And my dad drunk most of it. The Famous Five would have totally approved, though. Just before we started eating, my mum reached into her bag and produced a bottle of handwash and some wipes. “I brought these,” she said, “Because I knew Amber would try to touch any furry animal that happened to cross her path.”
And she was right:
(The furry animal in the second picture is mine, of course.) It’s funny: over the course of the day, we must’ve seen a few dozen dogs, at least. Rubin didn’t show the slightest interest in any of them… until we met these two Bichons at Crammond. And it’s almost like they KNEW they’d met one of their own. We actually had to drag Rubin away from them, and the other two dogs stood looking longingly after him as we went. Maybe we should get him a friend?
(No! We are NOT getting Rubin a “friend”. No matter how much I might secretly want one. Every time that thought comes into my head I will just think about that one time Rubin ate my favourite pair of shoes when he was a puppy. And that other time he ate my SECOND favourite pair of shoes. Also that time he dug up a shrub and brought it into the house. Oh, and let’s not forget the time he escaped from the car IN A PETROL STATION, and had to be rounded up by a team of truckers. NO. PUPPIES.)
Anyway. I was sad to come home at the end of the day. I really love these summer days we occasionally (very occasionally) get here. It makes me feel like I’m on holiday again, and I don’t want it to end.
Roll on next weekend. And please, please be sunny…