Hello Boys! is what Goldenoldenlady calls out cheerily every time she hears a couple of low-flying RAF fighter jets go over. They are Our Boys in Airforce Blue (well, that's the dress uniform, they are more likely in khaki all-in-one flying suits, with lots of safety paraphernalia over them) who pass overhead several times a day mid-week in good flying weather, contour-chasing their way up and down the Severn valley.
They have a big nest, these supersonic metal birds, on Anglesey. And they often fly in pairs, a trainer with trainee. Earlier in the week we had three pairs go over. It is like one's very own ceremonial fly-past.
And remarkably reassuring, even though it can be a bit noisy. The sound is a couple of seconds at least behind the sight, so to spot them one has to guess which way they are going and look ahead of what one just heard. Often it is just too late. They are good and GONE.
The fact that we have such skilful pilots, such very brave and clever young men, to defend our national peace and security is comforting. I am not a pacifist. I know from my love of history that having to fight sometimes is inevitable, so let's at least do it bloody well, eh?
If The Husband hadn't just gone off on a bike ride and to do some grocery shopping on his way back, I'd ask him which actual fighter aircraft it is we usually hear more than see. When I find out I'll edit this to tell you and Google a couple of pictures to show you.
Meanwhile, the fact I've just heard them go over and called out Hello Boys! must mean it's a good flying day. The sun is bright, the sky is blue, with nary a cloud. Last night I reduced the number of hours the CH comes on for, to mark the First of May. Today, later on, I think it will be warm enough to sit out on our small south-facing back lawn, even for this convalescing semi-invalid (that bronchitis/flu is/was a doozy and I am still far from fully well). Well, at least for a few minutes.
Yesterday afternoon our garden thermometer reached 15c in the shade, and the temperature inside and outside the house were so even that I could leave the back door open without feeling a draught, and The Dog could trot in and out at will for a while without having to bark to be let in and out. Some of the time he even snoozed in a sunny spot on the lawn.
Now, isn't that VASTLY encouraging, after the winter we've had in Wales?
Addendum; they are either the delta-winged eurofighters, the Typhoons (above)
or Tornadoes (below), though how The Husband can spot the difference at that speed only he can say.
(Oh, and for Yamini, here is a photo of The Naval Nephew under a Harrier, in Afghanistan. We SO miss the Harriers in our family...)
Whatever the 'planes that cross the skies above our house are, all I know they are very small, very fast and very loud, and I LOVE them!
PER ARDUA AD ASTRA...