Yesterday, we all went to Swanage, to watch the Red Arrows - Sophie and Tessa were with us for the weekend - Sophie told us stories about Detroit - she and Paul had met many charismatic activists in that awesome, splintered, cityscape - I imagined them, driving between shattered towers, skirting urban prairies -
We got the steam train from Corfe Castle - we feared being trapped in a net of shiny cars in Swanage - Sophie and Tessa were invited onto the foot plate - the young train driver turned away an earnest steam railway fan - only room for two -
After a little while, Sophie and Tessa returned, laughing and smelling of smoke - it was very Victorian - very hot - Sophie's words made me think of Len, hurling coal into the white hot fire box -
Swanage was full of people - a vast murmuring excited crowd - the beaches, the streets, the hill above the pier - all were thronged with dads in flip flops, young women in tiny shorts, kids shrilling whistles, mums heaving push chairs, bearded prophets in wheel chairs -
We meet up with Penny and Cherry - Anne and Penny made short work of a crossword - I ate an ice cream cone - rain fell from the gentle clouds -
Then, we heard cheering - over the hill behind us - surely only just above the Victorian roof tops - flew the jets - beautiful, violent, elegant darts - they tore through the air - they soared up into the sky - they skimmed over the grass of Nine Barrows Down - plumes of blue or red smoke trailed behind their glinting tail fins -
The noise of the jet engines swept like windmill blades over the bay - we craned our necks to watch the jets flying inverted over our vulnerable heads - I could see the pilots, like dark angels, within their murderous wonderful craft -
I was surprised at my reaction to this bravura display - I felt full of excitement and wonder - later, I thought how dark eyed children, in torn garments, might cry out in terror when they heard such sounds, or saw such shapes -
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