What of today?

Well I’m sure you will want to join me in wishing a very happy birthday to Delia Smith. Do you think she makes her own birthday cakes? Half-baked, over-egged, whipped but not beaten, slightly soggy bottom, a bit crispy round the edges, well past the best-before date but turned out ok all things considered? And the cake will be nice as well. I should also mention Paul McCartney who was born on this day too – although carbon dating has yet to reveal which century BC we’re talking about. Heather Mills was once a model? Oh come on! She’s no Naomi Campbell. Or does she have Airfix stamped on her back? Maybe by ‘model’ they mean like the ones I made as a kid out of Play-Doh and which bore no resemblance to anything that has ever actually walked this Earth. [Reaches for tub of Play-Doh kept forever to hand in case I need to be transported instantly back to my childhood with a single sniff] And my birthday honours list would be as incomplete as a jigsaw bought at a car boot sale if I didn’t mention Paul Eddington, born today, had a Good Life and went on to become Prime Minister. The Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister shows were, in my opinion, British comedy at its best. Sharp, intelligent, witty, beautifully performed and such superb observational comedy, proven more-so by the fact that they remain astutely accurate and shockingly relevant even today.

Take for example:

• Head of MI5: We can't have unfounded, arrogant press speculation. That's the last thing we want.
• Hacker: Even if it's accurate?
• Head of MI5: Oh, especially if it's accurate.

Must watch the DVDs again. They just don’t make comedy like that these days.

I want to make amends for the anti-American comments I made a few days back (about how they were much more palatable when stampeding across the prairie shooting each other with bows and arrows, in black and white). To wit I shall ponder for a moment on the fact that today marks the anniversary of the day that American air pioneer Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly across the Atlantic Ocean. She was not the pilot on that flight though. I’m assuming she spent the flight wandering up and down, smiling inanely, asking, “Tea? Coffee? Would you like anything from the Duty Free Trolley?” – who knows?! She didn’t make her own solo transatlantic crossing until 1932. Presumably she’d got bored with pointing out directions to the Emergency Exits, located her, here and here. She should perhaps have paid more attention during the safety announcements and may have known that the straps on the life jacket pass behind your back and tie in a bow, like so. It could have made all the difference since in 1937 her plane disappeared without trace. She might have survived if she’d removed her stiletto heels, put on her own life jacket (before helping anyone else), tugged on the oxygen mask which dropped from the ceiling and, at very least, known that there is a whistle for attracting attention.

I mention this because at about this time tomorrow David and I will be in the air en-route for Budapest, so matters of aviation are paramount in my mind. Whilst I do not have a current copy of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (my iPhone being the nearest approximation available) I do recall what it says on the subject of how to fly:

There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. Pick a nice day, [The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy] suggests, and try it.

The first part is easy. All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt.

That is, it's going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.
Clearly, it is the second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties.

One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidentally. It's no good deliberately intending to miss the ground because you won't. You have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when you're halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or about the ground, or about how much it's going to hurt if you fail to miss it.

I’m guessing Amelia got confused and didn’t realise that ‘failing to miss the ground’ is, for the sake of this thesis, exactly the same as ‘failing to miss the sea’. Or maybe she was just distracted by a damn good in-flight movie, some 1930s chick-flick featuring women who wore dead foxes round their necks and smoked French ‘tabs’ through 16 inch cigarette holders and slick-back haired men in suits with creases so sharp you could cut cardboard and moustaches manicured to within an inch of their lives. Must have been a bugger getting the organ into the cockpit [Matron!] though!

Still thinking of things that fly, It is funny how time flies (like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana – Groucho Marx, but currently being quoted by Wogan every half hour on the telly) or “tempus fugit” if you want the earliest Latin version, which actually translates as “time flees” and is often mistranslated due to the similar phrase tempus volat hora fugit ("time flies, the hour flees"). See, you learn something by coming here, even if you don’t bally well want to! This shit doesn’t just happen you know, I research and everything! Focus, Adrian, focus! Where was I, yes, time flies and it seems that the trip to Hungary has approached at breakneck speed, leaving me with the penultimate day’s packing ahead of me. Clear the decks boys, I’m going in! I’ll need the spare room clearing out so I can make piles. I’ll need the scales readily available to check luggage allowances at 15-minute intervals. I’ll need my electronic list to hand. I’ll need you to anticipate what I need you to bring, but not a second before I require it. I’ll also need you to know that since I asked for you to get ‘the blue one’ I have decided that ‘the red one’ would be more appropriate and you’ll need to have anticipated this. I’ll need cups of tea bringing. I’ll need the itinerary to cross reference to my list. Get me 20ccs of Morphine. Damn, I’m flat-lining. I’m going into shock! Quick! Quick! I’m losing it! IV Adrenalin, STAT!