Snog, Marry, Avoid?

Ok, I'm not going to be cruel here but sometimes I do wonder about things and how they ever came to be the way they are...

I love the smell of pop tarts and Calor Gas in the morning but there's none of that at today's International Balloon Festival in Bristol. I won't make it this year but I wish them all well. There calm weather and bright sunshine prevail. Eighty seven balloons will be in the air, maybe even more. Bobbing and drifting in the pale blue skies, at the mercy of the elements who today choose to be calm and benign, easy and supportive. They said that there would be days like these but they don't arrive very often. Some craft are like minions, penguins or giant advertising hoardings, almost free publicity that only your fellow free air traveller can appreciate. Free like a bird, serene and dreamlike, easy enough till the part where landing and recovery has to happen. So said the man with the broken arm, a balloon pilot and event organiser by profession. I wonder how he broke his arm? Meanwhile everybody wants to blame somebody else for the weather. I don't know why. There are no seasons anymore.

The last time I ballooned.