So started this morning reading the paper, what I should have done yesterday. Decided to split the day up a bit. So started knocking the shit out of the existing plaster in the bedroom. Then took Sasha out for a walk. By this time Jamie was home, he’d done an eight hour shift and I’d barely got out of bed. PVA’d the wall and then mixed up some plaster. All I had left was some two year old plaster, lesson here, don’t use out of date plaster, it sets in about ten seconds flat. So gave up on that and tidied up. Did the accounts and tidied up. Had a nice bath. Spoke to Captain James. Had an existential crises about being two low over the golf course yesterday, he pointed out that if you put a golf course right next to a runway then that’s what they should expect. Went back over some old videos and noticed that I was about the same height on takeoff anyway, so just over analysing shit again. I will point out that at no point was anything ‘unsafe’, it was just perhaps, ‘undesirable’ as in, I was not at the correct height at the correct time. But when you have an aircraft full of passengers and one of them is your mother-in-law, you are some what under pressure. Anyway, hell Mary’s were said, and I was forgiven, but told to hold 300 feet before final. We live and learn. My passengers all enjoyed the experience anyway. Once again I stress at no point was I in the state of vortex-ring or anything else dodgy, I just may have frighten a few golfers.
We are getting close to Christmas, which means we are almost at the end of another year. Life is accelerating at an alarming pace. I have a feeling if I fart I’m going to be eighty-five and on the verge of death.