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That Was The Week That Was
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Rain in the Caire valley
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I was just one of several lost souls gravitating to the
airfield after the appearance of sunshine and cumulus in an otherwise
unpromising, storm-like sky. Ariane had cleverly decided on some retail
therapy in Gap, and Bob Grieve unwisely volunteered to accompany me on
today's futile gesture.
A shortish tow to Sigoyer led to a slow climb to a low
cloudbase and a run to Malaup, where heavy showers in the next valley
encouraged a retreat. We tried some good looking cu over St Genis, but they
failed to deliver. The sky cycled and we landed back in drizzle after
another disappointingly short flight, due more to my poor tactical planning
than to any lack of technique from Bob.
On the plus side, I can report to Alan and Wendy that all
systems remain go in 220, which awaits their arrival along with the sunny
skies they have faithfully promised for us next week.
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Gap facilities
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You'd think that would be enough excitement for one day. But
no, oh no, not with my recent history. Those in the know will appreciate
that I picked up an injury a few weeks ago which left me with a hematoma the
size of planet earth on my left thigh. On returning to La Toupine after
today's flight, I misjudged a step and blew apart the good work that had
been achieved over the previous three weeks.
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And so it was that I ended up yet again back at Sisteron
A&E (for which I now have a season ticket) eagerly looking forward to
enough morphine to deal with pain of truly eye-watering proportions. I spent a
better than expected night in the hospital (thanks in no small measure to
the charming nurses in attendance) and the following morning I was
ambulanced to Gap hospital where the (Italian) doctor discussed whether
there was a need for an operation, how long I could expect to wait for the
injury to heal, and how the English public regard having an Italian as their
national football team manager.
I was given parole and Ariane drove us back home through
the best looking sky I had seen since our arrival last week. Not that I
would have been allowed to fly anyway, thanks to a firm directive from
"Ooooh Matron!" Ariane.
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