icarus
another productive day in a sunlit, clean, clear office.
the spring clean feels good for the mind.
i don't need a feeder.
i need a facilitator...i have more ideas than i know what to do with.
i guess we all do.
but ideas need to become realities or they get wasted, forgotten or achieved by someone else.
it's a race to finish, first.
this early evening, microlites fly past to the sound of shotgun fire.
i assume the guns aren't being aimed up into the sky.
if you were flying slowly past and someone DID fancy taking a pop at you (for spoiling the peace and quiet of the countryside) there's not a lot you could do about it, up there.
sitting target.
flying is dangerous.
z said, 'who are they shooting at daddy?'
'peasants pheasants', i said
'why are they shooting at pheasants?', he asked.
'because you can't eat them when they're alive, son'.
part of the educational program here: i've already applied for both sons to be in 'junior apprentice'.
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