Head in the clouds.

a day out at Popham airfield, in a two-seater microlite, courtesy of Nur's birthday present to me last year for my 40th. Just in time for my 41st.
[edit] - I forgot to say:
I WANT TO SO DO THAT AGAIN!
the microlite looks, from the front, much like any other small plane, but it really is tiny - the fuel tank is directly behind the seats, and the whole thing is more or less made of plastic. It took off in an incredibly short space - less than 50m - and got up to a thousand feet in just a couple of minutes. Michelle, the pilot, was very helpful and explained a lot in the short space we were aloft. what really surprised me was how receptive the controls were - they just required the touch of fingers. The way the plane bucked and dipped was a bit unnerving at first, but it was just, in the end, like riding rough water.

Old fartdom beckoning?

well, my hair hasn't fallen out overnight, nor my teeth. The Beige Gene - the one that makes you start thinking, 'actually, beige is nice' - hasn't kicked in. I haven't developed a predilection for jackets with leather patches or slippers in a plaid pattern, nor have I developed a yearning for a sports car, golf, or polo-necked sweaters in a diamond pattern. In fact, it's all pretty normal so far.
Happy 40th birthday, me.