Mwynwen - flying down to London and back
By Diana the Valkyrie
And after supper, we went to bed.


OK, I know I didn't have to do the flashy takeoff, but I wanted to impress
Harry, and I knew Linda was up for it, because I'd asked her. It's as well to
check, you look such an idiot if your passenger slams on the brakes at the
edge and you go over by yourself. And I did want to impress him, which I know
is a bit silly of me because, well. I mean, I know perfectly well that people
are totally gobsmacked by *any* kind of flight, I don't need to do aerobatics.
But, well, I do love to fly, and any excuse is enough for me to get fancy.

So I climbed up to angels three before levelling off, and from there I was
able to spot the Great Western line, which runs straight as an arrow into
London. I sometimes wonder how birds manage, they can't follow railways. I
mean, they can, but I doubt if they do. "You OK, Fluff?" She was bundled up in
my aluminised lightweight thermal blanket, to keep her warm, because even at
3000 feet it's not exactly roasting. You might have thought, nearer to the
sun, gotta be hotter. But it's the opposite of what you thought, plus there's
the 80 knot breeze. At 10,000 feet it's really chilly even on a hot day, and
at angels twenty, although I still have lots of lift, the cold is so bad I
can't stay there for more than a very short time. But it's a hell of an effort
to clock up the angels, and rarely worth while, so I almost never go there.

"Look down, Fluff" She peeked out. "Look, see the nice choo choo?" We could
see the Bristol to London Express like a toy train way below us. She turned
her head so she could shout into my ear. "It's gaining on us". And so it was.
These Intercity 125s really to get up to that speed sometimes, especially on
the long straight stretches that predominate on the GWR. I increased the gravy
slope, and we put on some speed as I fell forward, and now we were staying
ahead of the express. Not that it's important to beat the train, but, well,
air travel is supposed to be fastest, and I'm damned if I'm going to let some
stupid set of wheels beat me out. Tally ho! Ain't no muddy gonna cut me up.

A few miles before Paddington I yawed off to the left to head for Linda's pad,
or at least for my usual landing place nearby, which is the big oak tree at
the top of Hampstead Heath. No-one can see me landing in the branches, the
tree's in the way of the view. And then I just climb down, which is easier
than it sounds if you halve the gravy slope. And no-one ever notices that I
came down a tree that I didn't climb up, plus if they did, they'd assume that
they just must have not seen me climb up. I leaned on the tree and opened my
belly pouch, put on a skirt and a cashmere sweater. I pulled out my long
wrap-around cape and put that on over the sweater-and-skirt, because I find
that when I'm on the ground I'm not fighting against the air resistance which
exercise keeps me warm in the air, so I get cold walking around the mud. I
took off the Snoopy-style flying helmet, put on moccasins because you don't
walk barefoot in London, and we were just two ordinary women walking on the
Heath. Five minutes later Fluff opened her front door and we went inside.
"Fluff ... " "I know, you're hungry". "Me stomach thinks me throat's been cut,
and I need to sit down." I put my feet up while Fluff brought me food. Bread!
Mmmfff. And now, at last, I could ask her some stuff about Harry.

"Fluff, is he really a porn star?" "Yes, he is. Really. I just don't want him
to get a big head about it. If his ego was any bigger, I'd need new doors." I
chewed on some bread dipped in olive oil. "That's not the only thing that's
big." "Witch, if you want him, he's yours, he's not my territory. Sharon's not
exactly pleased with him these days, the nuns are all back in the convent,
he's over 21 and unattached, you want him he's yours." I thought about this.
It does get kind of lonely at Gingerbread, and he was kind of cute.

"Well, he'll be staying with me for a couple of weeks anyway, how long do you
reckon it'll take before Sharon isn't looking to seriously maim him?" Fluff
looked serious. "See, it isn't just that he stuck it in someone else, he does
that all the time, it's what he does for a living. The problem is that he told
her a whole bunch of lies about where he was and what he was doing. So how can
she trust him in future? How can anyone who knows about this?" "I can", I
replied. Fluff raised her eyebrows. "You're right. I forgot about that. Truth,
of course you can." I grinned, and stood up. "Can I use your, er, facilities?
Lighten the load a bit?"

Fluff gave me some bread-and-olive-oil for in-flight refuelling, and a bottle
of water in case my throat got dry, and we strolled back to the Heath. I
kissed her goodbye, Linda really is a first class brick, and climbed up my oak
tree. At a handy fork in the tree, I stripped off the civvies, put on the
helmet and goggles, got my belly pack organised with the in-flight
refreshments near to hand, and climbed right up to the top, lowering the gravy
slope as I went, because it's a lot easier at half gravy. At the top of the
tree, I did a VTOL, straight up, so that strollers in the park wouldn't get a
surprise, because the tree would block their view, and at angels four I headed
for Paddington, then as I followed the GWR westbound I slid down to a
comfortable angels three at 80 knots. I mean, it's a nice day, there's no
hurry, I can take it easy.

So when I got back to Gingerbread, I wasn't out of steam, and as I got closer,
I could see Harry stretched out on the lawn, sunning himself. So I swooped
down at him, shouting "Dugga dugga dugga!" which made him jump up all
startled, and he watched as I zoomed up into a full loop, over the top, double
roll as I came down again, pitch forward, tuck in, tumble twice, stretch out,
tenth gravy, undercarriage down and land. "Hi!"

"Linda got home OK?" "Piece of cake" "You're amazing, Mwynwen." "My friends
call me Min" "Min, you're incredible" "Right now, I'm amazingly incredibly
hungry" and I pulled out the last of Linda's bread and started to munch at it
as I walked into the cottage. Within a couple of minutes, I was doing serious
damage to some bread rolls, four apples, and a couple of raw carrots, while a
saucepan of potatoes was coming to the boil. "So how was the trip?"

As we ate I told him about cruising eastbound along the GWR and how I'd raced
against an Intercity, about the lift you get as you pull into London from the
rising air heated by the ashpalt, about the squirrel I'd startled as we landed
in the tree, about the arboreal takeoff and the struggle to get up to angels
four for the cruise across London. "Why?" "Because I think that three thousand
is too low for London, I don't want some nervous Brylcreem Boy to spot me and
loose off a missile." "No, I mean why a struggle?" I looked at him, obviously
he didn't understand. "Uh, Harry, house floors are eight feet apart." "So?" he
looked puzzled. "So angels four is like five hundred stories, what would you
call climbing up five hundred stories, easy?" "Well, but. But you just. You
just fly, right?" "Not exactly. I have to invest the energy to get the height.
It's called Conservation of Energy. So I don't go any higher than I need to."
"But you get it back when you go down again, right?" "Yeah, sure. Try going
down 500 flights of stairs and tell me how you feel at the end of that. It's
only when I'm going near population centers that I go over angels one;
normally you'll find me a few hundred feet up at most."

He watched me eating. "I suppose you're replacing the lost energy now?"
"Right." I patted my tummy. "No chance of me getting flabby, it's all I can do
to stay at one forty tare weight." "Tare?" "Weight of chassis plus engine,
with no cargo." "But no meat?" "I don't eat meat." "Or milk" "Robs the cow"
"But the cow makes milk anyway". "Tell that to the calf whose death left the
milk for you." "Oh. And eggs are out" "Obviously. I'm not eating someone's
babies" I explained it to him. "It isn't a preference, it isn't even a matter
of principle. It just is, I can't do it. I bet you can't either." "Can't
what?" "I'll show you this afternoon, want to come flying with me?" "Do I?" he
said, eagerly. I grinned. "Looks like you like it too, then." He nodded. "Not
half!" "Not as much as I do, though.

"I've been wondering, Min, what do you do for a living?" "I'm a writer, I
write stuff." He looked round the room. "No computer?" "Not necessary, Harry.
People wrote stuff before computers." I opened a drawer, showed him my
Remington. "What do you write about?" "I'm an ornithologist" "Birds?" I
nodded. "Figures." I threw a piece of bread at him, he caught it and ate it.
"My specialist area is bird flight. Flight is crucially important to birds in
ways that no mudder can appreciate. I have to understand about flight for
special reasons, most bird-folks know nothing about aviation. And even
professional airplane pilots these days, they mostly know engineering and
instrumentation. But I can actually sympathise and understand why they do some
things the way they do." I finished my potatoes and stood up. "OK, wanna soar
like an eagle?" I stripped off my lycras, we weren't going to go high or fast,
and put on a silk blouse, a short skirt, and bare feet. I love the feel of the
wind on my feet.

We left the cottage. "Don't you lock the door?" "Don't be silly, Harry, it's
just me and the birds up here, there's no other way in unless you like
climbing. So, you want to Geronimo off, or take it easy?" "Geronimo?" "Run
hand in hand yelling to the edge of the cliff and leap off?" I could see him
thinking about it; I could see him start off with a 'no way', followed by 'but
Linda did' and then the big macho thing kicked in and he said "Yeah, sure,
let's jump." So I took his hand, which was suddenly *very* sweaty, said "OK,
now RUN!" and he actually yelled "Geronimo" as we left the ground.

We flew down the mountainside to the valley below, and I followed the river,
at a height of a couple of hundred feet and a speed of about 30 knots. We
reached one of my favourite fir trees, and I stalled out and dropped onto one
of the branches, Harry next to me. Then I let go of his hand, and he clutched
the tree like it was his mother. Then he puked his guts out.

"You feeling OK, old chap?" I asked. "Bloo" he said. "Bloo". I waited till
he'd settled down, and offered him a bottle of water from my belly-bag. He
rinsed out his mouth, spat, and had a swig. "Urgghhh." I leaned back against
the tree bole. "Look, you can see right up and down the valley from here, you
can even see my little nest." Harry squinted in the direction I was pointing.
"You OK?" "Feeling a bit better, Min. I think I must have been a little tense
there." I laughed. You'll get used to it." He turned and looked at me. "I'd
really like to get used to it." "Would you?" "Yes" "Really?" "Mmm" "Mmm?"
"Mmmph." "Mmmfff." "Nng". Well, it's difficult to have a serious conversation
when you're kissing. And I leaned back as he leaned forward, and then he
leaned forward some more, and put his arms round me, and I guess he must have
lost track of where we were, because our joint gravy center was outside our
supports, so over we went, heading down, down, down.

Yes, well, obviously I wasn't going to let this turn into a disaster, so I
turned the gravy over and we didn't hit the ground, then I did a formation
roll while I held his hand to get us facing down and west, and I took him up
to a little ledge on the side of the mountain that I go to sometimes when I
want to watch the world go by.

"This must be all of a foot wide, Min." I turned sideways to face him. "I
suppose a foot wide ledge on the side of a sheer rockface isn't much when you
can't fly, but it'll take your weight, just imagine you're sitting on a chair
in my kitchen." "Can I imagine in you bedroom?" So I put my arms round his
neck and pulled his head down into my chest and held him while he did
interesting things to my ribs, and I did interesting things up and down his
spine. And then he pulled away, and said "I'm not a bird, Min" "Just as well,
that thing would give you serious air resistance even when it wasn't ploughing
through the foliage of trees as you went over them." "That's my bread and
butter, Min" "I'm hungry" "You're always hungry" "It takes a lot out of you"
"I know, and I bet flying does too." I laughed, and we kissed again. And I
quite deliberately pushed him forward until he toppled off the ledge, took his
hand, and set a course for home.

As we lost altitude to land on my lawn, I remembered about the food thing. I
wanted to get that sorted out, otherwise he'd be a real pain over eating like
I did. "Harry, would you like meat for dinner?" "Sure, but I thought ... "
"Well, there is a slight catch." I took him down to the scrubwood area, knelt
down, and leaned back on my haunches. I waved for him to do the same. "Now, be
vewwy vewwy quiet, we're hunting wabbits." After a few minutes of quiet, one
of the bunnies popped out of the warren and sniffed the air. I held out my
hand with a piece of bread, and he hip-hopped towards me. I offered him the
bread, and he took a nibble. He didn't notice my other hand coming up behind.
I held the rabbit in both hands, and offered him to Harry. "All you have to do
is kill it and skin it, and I'll make you a rabbit hotpot." "Kill it?"
"Right." "How?" "Any way you want, Harry. You could twist its head and break
its neck." He stroked the bunny. The bunny looked up at him, nibbling the
bread. "Well?" "Come on, Min. You know I couldn't do that." I released the
rabbit, who scampered a few yards and gnawed at the breadcrust some more.
"Exactly. Now you understand. Come on, I've got a broad bean and leek stew in
the hotbox, it'll be delicious by now." We walked back to Gingerbread hand in
hand.

And after supper, we went to bed.