Volume 40 No 4 Aug-Sept 1989.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club
Volume 40 No 4 Aug-Sept 1989.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club
Volume 40 No 4 Aug-Sept 1989.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club
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WAY OFF TRACK<br />
Full-blown breakfast.<br />
, u<br />
. "<br />
",J '0<br />
the flight. Then I felt and was immediately<br />
alarmed by a hot sensation in my chest which<br />
clearly went beyond the gastric heartburn ,<br />
sometimes suffer after a full-blown breakfas!. "Is<br />
this a heart attack" I asked myself with some<br />
foreboding, beginning a hurried descent when<br />
awareness dawned.<br />
But Idigress. What have these things to dowith<br />
peeing or, more, important, with not having immediately<br />
to pee Just that tucked down beneath<br />
one's harness buckle, in the approximate region<br />
of the waterworks - at least, their approximate<br />
location in my physiological conformation, what<br />
about yours - the effect of warmth on a chilled<br />
and shrunken bladder at altitude is quite wondrous<br />
relief.<br />
You're good for at least another 2000-3000ft<br />
and perhaps another hour in flight and can make<br />
an unhurried descent to pee in comfort - and<br />
the John.<br />
Whew! The tone of S&G is on the up and up.<br />
Please note Ii've got to the end of this discourse<br />
without once vsing the words "wet knickers."<br />
The second time also had a catch. It was in<br />
Limerick, where aboul 150 01 the region's great<br />
and good were hosting a party of jovmalists and<br />
broadcasting "celebrities" from Ihe wild north.<br />
Only seconds before my dessert plate was<br />
aboulto offer nothing but its, glaze, IleameQ the<br />
catch. "You're on in tWQ minutes. You're to:do the<br />
vote of thanks," whispered Herself, seated at<br />
my side.<br />
By the grace 01 God, as I l10undered lamely<br />
towards the end, to a sea of faces as unmoved as<br />
any sea of Irish faces ever can be, I recalled a<br />
gliding incident that had happened some years<br />
before, when I quite shamelessly hijacked a jest<br />
that I had read in one of Rhoda Partridge's<br />
articles· in S&G.<br />
Hijacked a jest.<br />
I had had an immensely long and tiring journey,<br />
solo, towing a gliderfrom Belfast through the Irish<br />
Midlands, where the roads have more twists and<br />
turns thana belly dancer's lower bowel. But I was<br />
happily nearing my destination - the Dublin/<br />
Ulster GCs' autumn safari to Co Kerry - then at<br />
Farranfore Airport but now flown from several<br />
beaches further west.<br />
in England to win races by 8 long neck.<br />
"We're over here cleaning up at all Ihe Irish<br />
meetings," I added in a qvick-fire embellishment<br />
of my own.<br />
Despite Ihe fact that the tired' jokes the English,<br />
in their arrogant dimness, tell about Ihe Irish are<br />
first told by !Dubliners about Kerrymen, he was<br />
smarter still. "Sorry I asked," he fired back<br />
instanlly.<br />
"Should've been obvious. The English have<br />
been sticking Iheir bloody necks out in this coun<br />
·try for 800 years, so why shouldn't their<br />
horses too"<br />
Wllen they heard an Englishman recounting<br />
this, with a warning to his northern colleagues nOt<br />
to attempt to be a smart-arse down in the west of<br />
Ireland because the locals were likely to prove<br />
smarter tharil they, Ihe faces of Ihe