‘Boring!’ I howled, like a five year old, tugging at my brother’s hand as we morosely lurched around the darkened hanger interiors looking at dusty German and British fighter planes. 
‘Boring!’ I wailed as my father, having the time of his life skipped over shouting, ‘Hey have you seen the steam powered tractor?? Quick quick..its about to drive up and down the road for twenty minutes. It’s real coal you know….’
‘I’m dying here.’ I whinged at my mother on the phone as finally the skies cleared and some lunatic flew in spirals in something tiny and noisy above the crowd.
‘I can’t here you darling…is that a plane overhead?’
On the way home my brother poked me in the back and asked what on earth I would have rather been doing on a Sunday afternoon.
I thought about all the various things I would have rather been doing..most of them involving various methods of being asleep in a beautifully empty, quiet flat but I held my tongue.
And then there had been that one 1968 Wasp helicopter that the chap had actually ‘danced’ like some huge insect over the airfield. I hadn’t moaned once during his whole set. He even flew it backwards….I’m not sure if he meant to but it was very clever….
