It comes to pass almost annually that some, if not all, of this diatribe is scribbled from foreign climes. It so happens that this month's muse is being penned from the southern end of Normandy as my family and I enjoy the hospitality of good friends who moved this way some years ago. From the quietness of my gite in the middle of this sunny French apple orchard I should have empty thoughts and be relaxing into the quiet family holiday like a proper dad, however my mind is temporarily elsewhere. I just can't shake a distracting concern for the rather large packing crate that should be winging its way across Eastern Europe while I'm over here; a crate that contains what is certainly the most extravagant and expensive airframe that I've ever owned. No, not another jet or moulded IMAC machine this time - my third mid-life crisis is a big, scale moulded glider.
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