Harry threw the little plane into the air and it was up and away into the wide blue yonder, swooping and soaring over dingle, fields and trees. Our small neighbour and his mother came out and watched from their door step. He, very excited, hopped from foot to foot, jumping and pointing as the SuperCub circled overhead and flew swiftly with the wind back over the field.
Going into the wind was more of a struggle - but it held good and steady - we anticipate some fine aerial shots of house and garden. I urge Harry to fly further afield but he thinks there won't be enough charge in the batteries. A few more circuits and a few more dives and it's time to come in to land.
The triumph of hope over experience...
But, oh no! Disaster. A mis-judged dive and the little plane is lodged in the top of a tree. A very tall tree. A mature Ash, going on for 30m high. We stand in silence - it's like the aftermath of air disasters anywhere I guess. The emergency services arrive quickly - in the form of our small neighbour with a very long stick which is, not surprisingly, about 27.5m too short. Bless.
My family of optimists dismiss the idea of climbing up - it's way, way too high - but do try flinging up a weighted cord, bolas - style, like South American gauchos. When that proves unsuccessful they find a bow and fire arrows Robin Hood style with a fishing line attached. We lose an arrow over in the next field and then the bow string breaks - so no success there either. But, hey it's an afternoon's sport! Meanwhile the little plane sinks even more firmly into its twiggy nest.
It's up there somewhere..
We retreat to mull things over. The pilot is taking it very well considering he has just lost his entire fleet. Fortunately we have a tree surgeon coming later in the week and we'll probably be able to persuade him to go up and free the plane. All in day's work.