Isn’t it ironic that, as soon as the sun comes out here in England, we don’t go out and do nice things like having picnics or lazing on the beach? No, we work like Trojans mowing the grass and digging the garden (lest the winter returns and we don’t have any other opportunity to get everything nice outside). Today we had our second warm sunny day of the year and Chris and I spent all of it spring-cleaning the house from top to bottom; we’ve only just finished and we’re worn out and aching; I, for one, now have blisters and raw skin where yesterday it was only red and painful (which goes to show that housework is harder than gardening!). But something nice happened today not very far from here, in fact it happened in the air, just above the sea, and quite close to our sea wall under reconstruction… Chris told me about it – I was downstairs hoovering at the time and missed it.

The unusual event took place just as lucky Chris was cleaning the picture frames in the guest bedroom on the third floor (the one with the best elevation for views of the sea). Suddenly he heard a helicopter, close and loud, so he went to the bay window to observe. Apparently, it was an army helicopter – a Lynx (if that means anything to you – it doesn’t to me) – and it was hovering (not hoovering, like me) very low and near to the sea, and it did a little dance, like a half victory roll, for the hundred or so workers still hard at work restoring our devastated sea wall. Another Lynx helicopter joined the first one and did the same dance in the air. And after their impromptu performances the pair flew off in the direction of Torquay.

Chris said it was very sweet. I wish I had seen it too; nevertheless, thanks to Chris I can imagine the Railtrack workers, all dressed in their unmistakable bright orange uniforms, being amused, and perhaps feeling appreciated, by the nice helicopter pilots who came to see them at Dawlish.