Just as my morning orisons were coming to an end a few days ago I heard a peculiar noise like some huge celestial librarian enjoining 'Ssh!' Opening my eyes I saw instead a balloon drifting through the clear sky. This is not that unusual a sight, of course, but one which always lifts my spirits. I think it's because of the balloon's silent, peaceful passage across the sky, which has to take place when the air is still and clear, its round shape which always seems strangely friendly. Mind you, a hot-air balloon burns quite a lot of propane so it doesn't lend itself readily to being a means of mass transport.
We've established that in general I'm catastrophically vertiginous, but for some odd reason I quite like the idea of going up in a balloon. I always meant to take to the sky in the nice, safe, tethered balloon that used to ascend over the centre of Bournemouth, until that was taken away five years ago after being damaged in a bit of bad weather. A matter of unending regret!
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