Thank you norose4 I occasionally dip into The Prophet.
We had this poem at my beloved stepfathers funeral, he was a pilot.
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air… .
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
Although he flew executive jets, for his own personal pleasure he had a Fornier RF5(sp?) , a motorised glider.
He was a bad influence in some ways, as if I "fancied" a day off school, he and I would go flying, a tiny little plane, 2 seater, one behind the other, perspex "lid" that you pulled over and fastened with the sort of bolt that you see on a toilet door! We used to refer to it as the Airfix Kit, as when it was first delivered, you could still smell the glue!
We would fly over the Buckinghamshire countryside, with the stereo (old fashioned 8 track cartridge thing) playing, occasional aerobatics, ( mildly alarming if performed without prior warning, especially one called the barrel roll!) and even on some mad days "pop over" to Le Touquet for lunch!