You know you are getting older - or at least that your parents have attained a certain level of antiquity - when the majority of communication you have with your sibling(s) involves one or other of you saying/thinking/groaning "Oh God. What have they done this time?"
Today's senior moment dragged me into the madness along with them.
Got a voicemail this morning instructing me to look up at the sky if I happened to be out and about between two and three - there was going to be a big flypast over Buckingham Palace commemorating the 90th anniversary of the RAF.
Faced with the alternative of sitting indoors glued to the computer, and thinking to combine it with a trip to Rymans in The Strand to get a new ink cartridge, I decided I might just as well head over to The Mall to see it for myself.
Arrive at Charing Cross, go to Rymans, buy cartridge, walk through Trafalgar Square, stop off for a sandwich. Then as the weather begins to clear and the sun starts to come out, I head off up The Mall.
As I walk (camera in hand - it is past two o'clock after all) I gaze up at the sky and wonder... the only things to be seen up there are fluffy white clouds and the usual procession in and out of Heathrow. Ahead of me the crowds around Buck House seem no larger than usual and as I get closer there are no camera crews to be seen either, never mind any sign of anyone standing on the balcony in a big hat, waving.
A large police car pulls into the gate to St James's Park and parks up under a large tree. 'Aha', thinks I, 'things are starting to happen'. But no. The occupants are merely after a pleasant, shady spot to eat their sarnies.
A small horse-drawn carriage does a couple of sedate circuits of the Victoria Monument then disappears towards the barracks. And all the while the only aircraft in the sky are the kind that carry hundreds of people rather than just a couple of guys in puffy green flying suits.
So for over half an hour I stand opposite Buckingham Palace, camera at the ready, every so often glancing up at the sky. Occasional fiddling with my mobile trying to call mum and dad to check they've got their dates right, I hope adding to the impression that I'm waiting to meet someone.
Eventually I give up and sit in St James's Park with an ice cream, reflecting that it is actually perfect weather for a flypast if one was being held. When I get home I check the BBC and discover that it is - at Fairford!!!
