TheBanyanTree: They killed Concorde today

[John Bailey]

Friday October 24, 2003

THEY KILLED CONCORDE TODAY

I don't have any organised thoughts on Concorde's last commercial flight, 
just a jumble of memories, regrets and an overall sense of resignation. I 
don't have any particular axe to grind, either, nor do I feel qualified to 
add anything to the historical record. Even so, I don't feel inclined to 
let such a significant event pass without at least a nod of respect.

It's close to impossible to describe the way aviation history encapsulates 
the spirit of British imagination, enterprise and invention that existed 
when I was a kid, and a young man. The skies were filled with British 
aircraft, technological marvels all, designed, built and flown by clean, 
clever, modest men and women, most of whom have long since turned their 
attention to the cultivation of roses and passed away quietly and largely 
unsung into unwritten history.

It was so exciting! Just the names of the aircraft resound like epic 
heroes. The Spitfire. The Hurricane. The Wellington. Brabazon. Britannia. 
Canberra. Comet... I remember standing on the edge of runway at Farnborough 
in 1959 watching a Vulcan taking off, feeling the ground tremble and the 
air roar like a god in the prime of his power.

I remember in 1969 standing by the cairn on the peak of Scawfell Pike, 
watching the Concorde on one of its early flights, soaring high above. The 
heavens split, almost, as it passed through the sound barrier and went on 
and on, gathering speed as it disappeared into the distance. It was a 
beautiful, wonderful aircraft.

I can't claim any closer association than that. Concorde was always there, 
flying the flag, at the very edge of aviation technology, and I was 
thrilled every time I saw and heard it. Somehow, while Concorde was still 
flying, the ragged, blunt scissored cut across the stream of British 
history, between then and now, between hope and experience, wasn't 
complete. And now, in some sense, it is.

They killed Concorde today and with it something brave and adventurous was 
lost, probably for ever.


--
John Bailey   Carmarthenshire, Wales
journal of a writing man
<http://www.oldgreypoet.com>