Yesterday a whole host of RAF jets were flying in formation towards Fairford, preparing for the Queen's display on Friday to mark the 90th aniversary of the RAF. You'd think for a short while even Philip Booth might consider paying his respects to the successors of the people who saved us in 1940. I agree with him about many things - we both wish to save the beautiful Severn estuary and its magnificent Bore from destruction by barrage, and we both like the Purton hulks. But while I agree that chucking huge amounts of CO2 into the atmosphere, as so many Guardianistas do (we've had two flying holidays in 18 years) is in general a bad thing, there must be some beauty and grace in the world. And if that beauty and grace is also awesome, so be it.
There were wonderful giants of old you know,
There were wonderful giants of old
They grew more mightily, all of a row,
than ever was heard or told
All of them stood their six feet four,
And they threw to a hundred yards or more,
And never were lame or stiff or sore,
And we, compared to the days of yore, are cast in a pygmy mould
For all of we, whoever we be, come short of the giants of old, you see.
For all of we, whoever we be, come short of the giants of old.