Failure to Launch

Knew it was too good to last. Had great plans to set up and shoot the passes over sky tonight of the last flight of the space shuttle Endeavour and then the ISS again twenty minutes later. But the clouds moved in and it rained for the first time in what feels like weeks (it's Scotland, a few days without rain and we've got hoses out to simulate the wet stuff) and the chances of seeing anything at all went down to zero.

A quick phone call to NASA's launch director to call in a favour and the launch was put back until the weather's better. "Nae bother at all, gie's us all a chance to catch up with the wedding 'n that oan the telly over a couple of cans of Export" big Mike said.

Mostly followed that on Twitter today, more entertaining than the TV coverage (PILF and QILF being two of no doubt a few other new additions to the online lexicon as a result of www wags). Sitting in the garden in the sunshine it took me back to July 1981 when I remember wandering the village looking for any of the usual gang for a kick about but the streets were empty. Probably went home in a huff and sat in my bedroom listening to the police (not the band with Sting, the real police) on my tiny tinny AM/FM radio in the shape of a Rolls Royce. Never liked Royal Weddings since, they hide all your neeburs away.

Off to get all patriotic now with my Moroccan lamb tagine washed down with some Spanish Rioja, followed by a couple of Buds as we watch a big Hollywood blockbuster courtesy of Rupert Murdoch's box.

Rule Brittania!