This morning brought the final stint of this week's run of volunteering, helping with the music society's mailshot for the forthcoming season. It was very easy, since all I had to do was stick address labels on to a pile of envelopes, after somebody else had been through and crossed out the labels for people they knew had moved, or died. Then I stuck on the stamps, putting to one side any envelopes with addresses that were so local that they could be done by hand. There was one for a farm just up the lane from us, but I stuck a stamp on it anyway. Last year I took it round on my way home, but found it was one of those bewildering places with multiple doors facing on to the farm yard, and no sign which was the correct one for mail. As I dithered I felt as though eyes were looking at me, and that somebody might emerge and challenge me as to what I was doing skulking around their yard. So I decided to leave it to the professionals, and let the postman use his superior knowledge of which was the right letterbox.
In general I feel rather uncomfortable dropping things round even to people I know. Especially to people I know. Supposing they are at home? Will they feel constrained to ask me in, even though they weren't expecting me, and it might not be a good time? Will they find it embarrassing having to tell me it's not a good time? Or feel hurt I hadn't said I was coming? Should I have told them? Suppose they detect me in their front garden or on their doorstep, but decide to feign ignorance because they are right in the middle of doing something, or their house is not as clean and tidy as they would like it to be for visitors? What if I catch a glimpse of them rapidly disappearing behind the curtains or retreating into their shed, and have to pretend I haven't seen them? Much better to make a firm social arrangement, or else subcontract the problem of delivery with a stamp.
The Systems Administrator had disappeared to the Clacton Air Show by the time I got home. I struggle with air shows because of the noise. In my City days I was once taken to the Farnborough Air Show, the finale of which was a row of Harrier jump jets hovering a mere ten or twelve feet above the tarmac. In unison they all dipped their noses, and I thought that this was close to hell on earth. Which was ungrateful of me, I know, and lots of people would have been thrilled to see them, but the barrage of noise was truly appalling. And I don't especially like aeroplanes. I learned about the Venturi effect at some point during my physics O or A level, but never really believed it.
The SA adores aeroplanes, and returned home thoroughly content having seen the Vulcan bomber, the two Lancasters, and the Typhoon in action. It was probably one of the last times the two flying Lancasters will be seen together, since one is on loan from Canada and will be going home soon, and the Vulcan's flying days must be numbered, before it is too fragile to be allowed out, so it was an historic display. Tendring Council are not obliged to provide an air display, the way they have to provide social care for the elderly, and it's good that they manage to keep it going, given that lots of people love the air show even if I don't. Family friendly tourism is part of Clacton's revival strategy, so I presume the council sees the air show as an important part of that. I fear it will take more than an air show, although the SA said it was packed.
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