The Noname

By JX

These stories are of the battle between the light side and the dark side in each of us within our four brains. They are the outer and inner battles of a modern Jedi. As above so below.

Part 1. King of Spades. The Moving brain. Core is ‘spirit, will and chi as connectivity, and how it can be used for good or evil. The physical challenge of using ones will and chi, and how it can be used to manipulate and control by the dark side.

Part 2. King of Hearts. The Emotional brain. Core is ‘spirit and it’s centre in the heart. After winning a battle deeper emotionality of the dark side remains in our heart sometimes to a great depth. The poltergeist is our subconscious and how things we think we have conquered return from the dark side to haunt us.

Part 3. King of Diamonds. The Intellectual brain. Core is ‘spirit and intelligence.’ the bright side of the intellect and freedom versus the dark side of oppressive ego and dominance of the state. Or free will versus dominance in ones mind.

Part 4. King of Clubs. The Physical brain. Core is ‘As above so below’
Every person is their own planet Earth, their friends orbit them and when their closest friend (the moon) moves out of orbit the seismic turmoil can wash them away. The physical light side of our world and dark illnesses can pervade.


The fundamental connection between humans and the World, and the route to Spirit is through their sense of humour. It opens the door to the light, and illuminates some dark corners.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984582430

Book preview

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PART ONE

The Good

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ONE

The Village Pub

In a sleepy village, not far from the developing world of mass construction and very close to idyllic tranquillity, sits a pub outside time, hidden in its own obviousness.

On one foul day of a stormy tempest, there gathers a few locals to ride out the weather.

Turned out nice again! said Jack vehemently as he crashed through the pub door, narrowly missing Gill carrying a tray of nibbles to a fireside seat.

The sun shines on the righteous! was her retort.

As if to underline the fact, another gust of horizontal rain hits the window, and rivulets flow down the pane.

The British monsoon gets worse every year. What happened to Indian summers? moaned Jack.

Too much heat inertia in the atmosphere each year. Weather rolls on, doesn’t it? said Gill.

It’s going to be awhile before the fields are dry enough to get the big balloon out again. Looks like we could be grounded for a month at the very least. Best think of another job. Any recommendations? asks Jack rhetorically. No, pretend I didn’t say that. I’m not looking for a sensible answer.

Well, you’ve come to the right place. You’re unlikely to get one here unless you want to have a career appraisal with Rob. He always needs a hand with a bit of bailiffing. Could be right up your street, so to speak.

I’m not in the market for new knees yet, but when I am, it could be the way to go to short cut the NHS.

It’s only one of your best landings away! she jested.

So what are we going to do?

I don’t know. What do you want to do?

Don’t start that again! If I knew that, then I’d know what to do!

Best start thinking laterally.

Good idea, it’s your round, Baloo.

Humph! In that case, start thinking Shere Khan!

Ha ha! Touché.

Jack wanders up to the bar.

What can I do you for? says Jules the landlord.

Another large white for Gill and the usual for me. Where’s Lucy today?

She is having her hair done, wants to look good for the boys’ birthday bash on Saturday night next.

She’s hopeful. They must be half her age!

Probably come back with a Croydon facelift. Her hair bow so tight, it could tourniquet her brain!

Wouldn’t notice, I’m sure. It never made a difference when she got tetanus, said Jack.

It slowed down her drinking though, Jules quipped.

Jack wandered back to Gill with the drinks without spilling a drop.

Penny for your thoughts. What would you like to do, Gill?

Go on a road trip to a faraway exotic location as a film extra. That’d go down nicely!

Hmmm. Good luck with that one. Don’t know of any horror companies looking for bit part actors.

You are toooo kind. Sometimes I wonder why you have so few friends.

It’s in the way I tell ’em!

Yes, it is.

Jules chips in whilst wiping a table down, We could do with the chimney swept. Fancy a go at that? Sooty White is past it and we need new blood.

As much as you would like me to get into a right mess, you probably need certification for your insurance. Nobody can do anything without insurance and corporate culpability these days, and I would be pretty unpopular after burning the pub down when I messed it up.

Passenger rides? asks Gill.

I trust you mean in the balloon? It’s too small. The balloon, before you say anything, it’s only a four-person balloon. We’d need a much bigger balloon, more insurance, and smarter rig. Headache-ville, and it would destroy my love of the sport.

Let’s plan a holiday instead.

That’s what we have, an enforced one.

Trouble is, Jack, they overeducated you. You get bored too easily, and you only like good wine.

Well, thank God that you aren’t encumbered in the same way. It makes you a lot cheaper to run, I mean … to help that is. That came out slightly wrong.

Doug needs a dig out! With the garden! chirps in Jules, trying to help with the faux pas. And you seem to be good at digging a hole for yourself so …

Thanks. But no.

What about abroad? We can work anywhere in Europe these days, suggests Gill.

I can’t be doing with Europe. Nobody understands me. Even though they speak English, they don’t understand the English. I guess it’s my way of speaking and sense of humour. It upsets people over there. They don’t get satire, and they don’t have pubs.

Plenty of money in Greece somewhere, smiles Gill, taunting knowingly.

Well, that’s true. Trouble is the Greeks have buried it so well that they don’t know where it is themselves.

Lot of it though, entices Gill.

True. I calculated that if Greek debt was in old pound notes so that five of them stacked flat together measured one millimetre, then one metre is five thousand pounds. How far do you think you could walk on Greek debt? Say there are six paces to the bar. That would be thirty thousand pounds. How far?

I don’t know.

Well, have a guess then.

Cornwall?

Bit short.

America?

No. You could walk around the earth on Greek debt, and that’s the long way round. Jack smiles. Via the bogs.

All we need to do is find out where it’s buried whilst on holiday!

They need a new version of the Euro. Call it the Duro. That would get the mattress money out and back into circulation.

Too much philosophising is your problem. You overthink things. And they do have lots of bars, says Gill.

Yes, they have bars but not pubs. For example, most won’t allow in dogs. And the longer we stay in Europe, the less likely it is that we’ll be allowed dogs in here. Food and hygiene, health and safety. Eventually you won’t get insurance.

The French love their dogs in their bars, says Gill.

True. They also loved smoking in chic Parisian restaurants, and that ban was rammed down all their throats for our betterment just the same. Besides, philosophising is what pubs are made for, solving the world’s problems.

Another blast of wind blows over the pub A board outside with a resounding crash, announcing an attractive young lady who slides into the pub out of the rain.

Hello, says Jack. Bit draughty out there?

Hi. Yes, nearly blew me over a couple of times. Is her reply.

Hellooo, says Jules, immediately appearing out of nowhere and looking rabid. What can I do you for?

A large G ‘n’ T please.

Sounds like a bargain to me. Best drink it first.

I’m pleased Planet Binsted hasn’t lost its sense of humour. Are you doing food?

Yes, here’s the menu. Specials Board above your head. Soup of the day is vegetable. We’re never short of vegetables in this pub.

I can see that. Can I have the seafood salad please.

Sorry, the fish arrives tomorrow. Local salad any good?

Dare I ask?

Local farm food, grated carrots, local lettuce. You know.

Yes, I do. I’ll have the burger and fries, thank you.

Would you like any toppings?

No, thanks, I’ve had enough sauce for one day.

Out comes her mobile, and into her own world, she recedes only to be met by Jack on his way back to the bar after swiftly downing his drink.

Afternoon. Don’t see many pretty ladies in here. Passing through?

Yes, that way. She points to the chair in the corner.

Hmmm, murmurs Jack as he continues to the bar.

Don’t ever take up beating Jules. You’d scare all the birds into the undergrowth.

I’ve seen you shoot, couldn’t hit a barn door at ten feet. Bet you can’t get her number.

No, you’re fine. I don’t need to be hitting on her. Besides, she’ll take a time to recover from your advances.

Again?

Yes, the day’s lost, I think. May as well go with the flow.

Jack also takes Gill back another white wine.

Thanks, looks like I’m staying awhile longer then. Didn’t fancy your chances? taunts Gill.

Not in the mood, must be getting old. I’ve never been a great fan of aeroplane blondes. Prefer natural minx like yourself.

Flattered I’m sure. What did your last girlfriend die of? Killed pride?

No, just the usual social diseases.

What’s the outlook?

Weather-wise? When this cold front goes through overnight, there’ll be a sizeable ridge of high pressure behind it. We could get out the chair or the hopper tomorrow morning. Need to go early-ish. The ridge will probably start collapsing about ten o’clock.

Well, if we can’t find anyone else, then I’ll run retrieve, and you can have fun in the hopper, says Gill somewhat deprecatingly.

I know. I’ll ask the young lady if she fancies a flight.

Well, we have quite a list of friends to fly. Problem is that it’s midweek. Few can make it. And I expect she’s working too. That’s why I offered.

Jack replies sardonically, Thanks.

Is the food going to take much longer? I have work to do, says a hopeful voice.

Jules leans across the bar with a one-eyed leer. I think it’s approaching. There is a trace of smoke from the kitchen.

You can’t get the staff, can you? She sighs quietly.

Jack intercedes with Don’t tell him that, or he’ll start admonishing his staff. And that’s not a pretty sight. Jack has surprisingly finished his drink and is now ready for a refill.

More jokers! she says.

Another? he asks Gill.

Not yet, put one in if you like. Gill is never known to miss an opportunity, especially if Jack wants to make a fool of himself, and this has every look of an approaching car crash. Not to be missed.

You can’t bugger up a burger surely, is the wry comment.

No, it takes a lot longer to achieve that, usually when Di has too many orders. By the way, my name is Jack, and this is Gill.

I should’ve guessed! Nice to meet you. You look surprisingly well fed for eating in here.

Yes, a healthy sense of humour helps a lot, and plenty of time. This is a good place for letting go of the stresses of life, not so good for snatching a quick refuel between meetings and keeping your finger on the pulse.

I don’t think this place has a pulse, does it?

It runs to a country rhythm. More Simon and Garfunkel than the Clash.

That dates you.

Some songs are eternal.

Well, I should focus on ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’. And I was more hoping for ‘Strawberry Fair’! Any fare would be good at this point. Come on, what’s happening? Is there light at the end of the tunnel?

The oncoming train, here she is. You ready to be burgered up? Jules takes the plate and sets it down before her.

That’ll warm your cockles, he says.

The burger looks previously masticated by a small dog but seems to be cooked through. Fries are like small sticks but nicely hot. Not altogether a complete fail.

How is it? says Gill.

Absolutely average. Fills a hole.

That’s good, don’t want to leave with a hole in one’s life.

After finishing the meal, she sits back and contemplates, a little happier. Sorry, my name is Charlotte. I do get fed up with idiots chasing me at times.

Well, it’s probably the glam. Sirens attract, and they don’t warn idiots that there are rocks ahead. You must need it for your job in sales, I expect, says Gill.

Yes, it’s the way of the world. You expect to be chased so that you can then sell them rubbish. The usual capitalist ploy.

Is it better to be right handed or left handed? jumps in Jack after returning from the bar. Left wing or right wing, it doesn’t matter which if they are out to do you down. I do think that socialism is more oppressive though. It is always trying to stop us thinking outside the box.

Not much social care on the right, says Gill.

True, they do expect that you will look after number one. They like to encourage success. Not something the socialists are proud of, states Jack.

Bit harsh, Blair was very successful.

Yes, but he wasn’t a socialist. Look at the money he makes now. The socialists don’t like to talk about him. He’s a money-making machine with many houses. If he hadn’t ballsed up the whole Middle East and destroyed most of modern democracy through fighting self-induced terrorism, then I think the Conservatives would’ve eventually called him one of their own.

Certainly Gordon or should I say Golden Brown broke Tony’s boom, says Gill.

Thank God we aren’t like the Scots, always wanting more handouts and wanting to help no one but themselves. Resentment abounds in this part of the world. Many around here lost their jobs due to navy work being relocated to the Clyde. The Scots need to join Europe as we leave. They can get handouts from them instead, moans Jack.

I’m not sure politics is a good subject today, states Gill emphatically.

No, true enough, it hurts people. And look the poor old Scots can’t even drive out in their cars and have a couple of shandies any more. Zero alcohol limit up there now. Hope we don’t join Europe in that one too. Telling us all the time what is good for us. Old car meets won’t be the same, stood around drinking lemonade.

Charlotte looks at her watch. At least the Tories have got rid of some of the cameras everywhere. It makes you think you’re living in an open prison. Which is why we don’t mind taking in every culture under the sun. They can all be watched.

The mobile is your tag, says Jack. Eventually the mobile will be your wallet. Cash will be extinct, and then you will have to carry it everywhere. Then you can be traced at all times, and they can get every ounce of tax.

Some of that happens now, which is why they got rid of a few of the cameras.

Yes, but at the moment, you can turn the phone off.

Sounds like you’re getting paranoid, suggests Gill. Too many drinks!

How does a country host so many other cultures? The only way is that the host culture has to become transparent. That is what has happened in England. I don’t think people are even aware that we don’t have our own English national anthem, let alone English government. The Scots, Welsh, and Irish have their own governments. We don’t have one of our own, says Jack.

What would you have as a national anthem then? asks Charlotte.

It would have to be ‘Land of Hope and Glory, Father of the Free.’ A good social-benefits song. No, joking apart, ‘Jerusalem’ I guess. At least most people know some of the words. And it is about old England, says Jack.

I’ve got to get on. They’ll be hounding soon. Nice to meet you. Even if you have lots of dodgy views. Charlotte stands, stretches, and moves towards the bar to pay. Landlord, can I pay?

Cash or kind? After a very brief pause and a somewhat withering gaze, he says, Twelve pounds sixty pence please.

Is he always so funny? she asks.

No, sometimes he likes to have a laugh. Those are very odd days, says Jack. Fancy a balloon flight tomorrow morning? Only be the three of us. There is a window in the weather. Gill offered to run retrieve.

Maybe, what time?

Need to be in the air for 8:00 a.m., on site seven-thirty say, says Jack.

Where?

Over there on the recreation ground.

Okay, I’m up for a laugh. Gill, is this safe? Does he know what he is doing? enquires Charlotte.

With the balloon, yes. I’ve flown a number of times, and it’s fine, replies Gill.

All right, you’re on. What’s it going to cost me, dare I ask.

Nothing. Buy us both a drink after, suggests Jack.

All right. Got to dash. See you in the morning. Charlotte swings out of the door with the wind whistling past.

Nice girl, Jack says thoughtfully.

Thought she wasn’t your type. You didn’t get her number, or you could’ve scored a drink off Jules.

I didn’t take the bet. Besides, he would’ve wanted to have the number, and then all hell would break out.

Think she’ll show?

Not sure. She was sober. That helps. At least it felt as though we were talking to the same person that wakes up in the morning, ponders Jack. Let’s hope the weather is kind and the ridge of pressure holds.

One for the road?

May as well, it’s foul out there.

Shame not to get the bigger balloon out really. There wouldn’t be enough takers anyhow.

True, and we couldn’t get the Landie to it in these boggy fields.

Taking her for a flight then, you old rogue. Hope she knows what she’s letting herself in for. Jules has the Cheshire cat grin.

Bet she does at that, says Gill.

It’ll be fine. Doesn’t look like she is the scared of heights type, Jack replies, trying to defer the obvious.

Are you sure it’ll be flyable? says Gill enquiringly. Or just fishing?

No, I’m pretty sure. It’s a big ridge of high pressure behind this front. Even with the atmosphere moving quicker these days due to global warming, it’ll be there.

Global warming my arse! splutters Jules.

Could well be a major factor as it turns out with that dodgy bitter you serve up at times, says Jack.

Don’t you start. I don’t get any complaints from anybody else.

I don’t think anyone can doubt that there is global warming. Look, there are daffodils blooming outside in December. The grass is growing like wildfire, and I expect the birds will start nesting soon. It’s all confused, says Gill sadly.

Well, what’s creating it then? says Jules.

I think it’s pretty obvious myself, and it’s not the amount of CO2 in the atmosphere as they suggest, says Jack. I bet, on average, there is at least one heat engine to every person on this planet. All heat engines use ambient for cooling. The ambient temperature is rising.

What’s a heat engine? You mean a car I suppose, suggests Jules.

Heat engines are cars, boilers, fridges, cookers, air con, and that’s without the million people airborne at any time in planes, plus freighters, ferries, trains, and power stations. If this is apportioned out, it must be at least one heat engine per person on the planet or maybe more. And there are seven billion people, so there are at least seven thousand million heat engines running at any one time. Of course it’s going to be warmer. If you want it to be cooler, then you have to turn them off.

That’s not going to happen in a hurry, says Gill.

Not since the price of oil is now through the floor.

Well, look on the bright side, suggests Jules. We will eventually live on a tropical island whilst the Arabs will live in an uninhabitable moonscape.

Don’t be daft. They will have bought here by then, and we will be living there. Look at Harrods in London. May as well call it Herod’s. It’ll be the same everywhere eventually. We will be sold down the river.

Cheerful as always. Let’s stop putting the world to rights and think of brighter things. We will all be dead by then anyway, chirps in Gill, smiling.

Tomorrow morning we need to be at the rec at seven to sort the chair before she arrives. I don’t want her helping.

Okay. See you then, bye.

Bye, Gill, Jules. And thanks, and put it on the slate.

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TWO

The Flight

Morning, Gill. I’ve brought the lightweight instead. The chair wasn’t refuelled, and you know what a pain it is to refuel. It won’t be much more difficult to handle.

Uh-huh! I know what that means. I remember its problems and disadvantages. Gill winks.

Yes, made the balloon bounce quite a lot as I remember, and that is why I built the chair of course.

Well, we shall see. Any fuel in the inflation fan?

Yes. Yes, it’s all together.

Right, let’s get moving. I’m sure she’ll show up shortly.

Jack pulls the basket off the back of the Land Rover, sets it down on the ground, and fixes the burner on top of the flexi-rigid poles. He connects the car lines and straps the gas tanks to each end of the basket, at which point a new BMW screams in to the recreation ground, sliding to a halt on the tarmac. Out jumps Charlotte, a vision in red.

Ah! Forgot to mention the obvious, says Jack under his breath. And then louder, he says, Good morning, Charlotte. Those boots ain’t made for walking!

Call me Lotty, please. Boots a bit racy for you? Thought they’d give the day a lift.

Got any others? And maybe some cords, a warm jumper, and a good coat wouldn’t come amiss, says Jack smiling.

Okay. Where’s the fun in life gone? I’m sure your big burner could keep me warm. Five mins.

Let’s crack on, Gill. Weather is stable but there isn’t much mist, so wind will pick up sooner than later. I’ll just do a quick burner test.

With all checks found to be satisfactory, the basket is laid on its side.

Here, drag out the balloon with me.

They drag out the balloon and run out the crown line, set the inflation fan ready for action, then look to find Lotty.

Oh definitely sexy, states Jack. Young Ms. Pony Club rides again! Barbour, Burberry, and a little Aquascutum for good measure. My favourites!

Lotty looks unabashed. Ladies must look their best when aloft.

Right, this is the game plan. I want you to hold the mouth of the balloon open like this. Jack holds one side of the mouth open. The inflation fan’s blast of air will hold the other side up. I will fill the balloon so that it fills with cold air, then I will heat it so that there is almost a full balloon shape on the ground before burning hard, and the heat will raise the balloon to vertical. When she starts to come up, let go of these tabs and hold the lower ones. Do not let your feet leave the ground at any time. Understood?

Lotty nods the affirmative.

In this way, the balloon comes up pressurised and strong, thereby stopping too much buffeting from the spinnaker effect of the wind punching the balloon around.

Gill, you know what to do with the crown line. Try to stay on your feet this time if you don’t want a wet arse again.

After many a few pulls on the inflation fan starting cord, it putters into life.

Positions!

As the balloon inflates, Jack pulls out the envelope fabric on the ground to help the inflation whilst Gill puts the parachute tabs in to the crown of the balloon. All is going smoothly.

Parachute in! shouts Gill, waving, and takes up the strain on the end of the crown line.

Okay, ready? Jack then puts into the balloon a few small burns to help fill the balloon without giving it much lift. Gradually he fills it to capacity, and it stands up, gleaming in the morning sunshine. Steam and vapour rise from the crown.

Okay, Gill, bring in the crown line. Thanks. Jack attaches it to the burner frame. Just rest your weight on the basket, would you?

It looks beautiful, says Lotty in awe. She has a rainbow spiral. The light glistens on the stainless-steel burner which hisses faintly from its pilot light.

Keep weight on please. Just going to set the ’chute. Jack gives a good tug on the red line, and the parachute seats into its hole in the crown of the balloon with a little jump of the basket.

Okay. Jump in, Lotty. There is a foot hole there in the back of the basket.

Ooh cosy, isn’t it? Not a lot of space, is there? says Lotty, leaning out of the basket once in.

Right I’m going to warm her up and then drop this inflation tank. Can you pass me the flight bag first please, Gill?

That’s it. All checks done. Good to go. Keys are in the Landie.

I’m going to warm her up now then take off the quick release, and we will gently ascend. Any worries, let me know.

Jack gives a long burn on the blast valve to fill the balloon. Once the balloon is buoyant, he removes the quick release, and a couple of light burns on the quiet burner sends them aloft. The earth slowly moves away from them as they gently rise above the field a couple of feet at first. They smoothly glide across the field towards the pub. The smell of autumn dew in the air rising off a slight air frost. The pub shines in an unearthly haze of glistening light from its white walls, with smells of steam and cooking and moss off its thatch. It is only feet away now.

Jules comes swiftly out of the doorway. Mind the chimney! Have a good one.

He’s flown with me quite a few times. I did nearly hit his chimney, and he has never forgotten. That’s why I like to get as close as possible. I dropped an apple down it once. Caused a bit of a snowball effect and blacked out the bar. Luckily no one was sat by the fire. Singing ‘Chim chim-a-ney’ when I returned didn’t endear me. The apple resided behind the bar for some time whilst I was reminded of it endlessly. He would only ever serve me Guinness for weeks.

It’s so beautiful up here. I never realised.

The breeze caressed a small cloud of ice crystals into the air from the thatch, and the air turned into a haze of spangles, light twinkling all around them.

This is amazing. It’s like a fairy world. The colours are spectacular and such peace. I can see why you love it. Doesn’t everything look so different? There are so many trees too—it’s not all houses. The sky is so big and open. What a feeling of space!

Wait until we are higher and the freedom becomes more acute, remote, and surreal. However, I prefer flying low, seeing our world from a different viewpoint. Flying with the birds, smelling the forest from above, feeling the early-morning mist off the big pond, tasting the evening smells of cooking over the estates. We have to ascend now. There is a bird reserve ahead, and we usually give them the best part of a thousand feet.

Jack turns on the main blast valve and puts a long burn into the balloon.

Wow, she goes up fast.

This small balloon is very fast to respond and climb. You okay? No vertigo?

No. It’s like looking at a giant map. I see what you mean by remote though. It does feel a bit scary now. So isolated in this big space.

Yes, closer to God! That’s assuming he is in the heavens.

Have you seen him up here then?

No. If he is anywhere, then I’m sure he is down there fighting the good fight with the devil in the detail.

Where are we going?

Where would you like to go? Obviously within reason. We can’t go back. A bit like life, we launch ourselves into the world with a limited set of options, a certain amount of fuel, and a reasonable chance. The wind today is roughly pushing us south-southeast on the surface and south up here at a thousand feet. So we can choose to steer the balloon by the height we are at. The wind will also change as the morning fades. The best pilots can read the change and fly accordingly. Shall we look at the big pond? It’s off to our left a way.

Yes, if you like.

Right, back down to the ground then and find some left. It’s not too late. We are past the bird sanctuary now. Have to come down quickly though to catch the lower wind.

Jack opens the parachute at the top of the balloon by pulling hard on the red line. The heat flows out of the balloon, and it dives slowly at first and then gathers descent.

Whoa, a bit lairy! Does it always shake like this?

Yes, in a steep dive. We don’t do this very often. But its good practice for alpine flying where it is needed a lot.

Here we go. A few longer blasts and she will round out almost immediately. It’s why I love flying a small balloon, so nimble and light, especially as you don’t weigh much either.

Thanks. I knew that it would have an advantage one day.

Okay, this brings us nicely on course for the big pond. A bit more work to find a little more left to take us over the middle of the pond would be good. Behind this hill, the wind will curl around, and we can use it to get more left. There, see the change in our course?

Yes. And I thought these were unsteerable.

Now we are good for the pond. Let’s see who is on it this morning.

Jack flies treetop height over the lane leading to the pond. Once clear of the trees, he then flies lower across the field then over the hedge and over the pond at about ten feet. The air on the pond is much slower and slightly warmer. Jack corrects immediately with a short burn on the quiet burner so that they slowly drift across the lake at ten feet, approaching a small fishing skiff.

Morning, Bob. Caught anything?

Nope, and probably not now I shouldn’t wonder.

Mind if we join you? Take hold of this rope.

Be my guest, but don’t expect me to tow you out again, says Bob.

It’s too windy for that. I won’t be becalmed today.

Jack let the balloon come down very gently onto the surface of the lake where it sits very lightly on the surface tension of the water.

She floats like a dragonfly, doesn’t she? says Lotty in awe.

Needs a bit of practice this, but after a few goes, it’s not too tricky. Just don’t want to lapse the concentration, or your feet start to get very wet. Bob, I will pull you closer.

Hello, my pretty. See you brought us a mermaid, says Bob.

I wasn’t planning on fishing this morning, says Lotty, nervously looking at the water.

I don’t think there are any fish in here. Are there, Bob? Well, you never seem to catch any.

We all have our moments. Caught a thirty-pounder a couple of months ago over there.

We are headed that way. I will try and scare the fish back in your direction, Bob. Best get your net ready.

Ah, you know that’s not allowed, would be no fun.

See you in the pub later, Bob. You can show me the one that got away.

Thanks for the tow, saved me rowing back. I’m nearly there now. Bob lets go of the trail rope, and Jack gives a couple of short bursts on the main blast valve. The balloon jumps a foot out of the water and visibly shakes her feet. The water droplets fall back to the pond from the bottom of the basket in a beautiful shower that has a small rainbow in its wake and makes circles on the mirror like surface of the pond.

We need to climb now. There is a stud farm downwind, and we need to be back up high.

The balloon rises like a gazelle leaping into the sky, all the way up to a thousand feet.

Beyond the stud is restricted air space, MOD. It won’t take long to overfly. The wind is picking up. We have about thirty minutes of reasonable flight time left. Up here with this wind, we will turn right and go in that direction. I know of a good area for landing on the other side of Thursley. See if Gill is on the ball.

Don’t you want to give her a ring?

No, I could see that she was watching us from the other side of the pond. But I think she will guess where we are headed. I don’t like telling her. It ruins the fun of driving retrieve. We can always call later if needed.

Jack has a quick look at the map just to confirm his direction and ensure there are no new sensitive areas to be avoided.

Let me give you a landing briefing. When we land, the basket will tip over and slide to a halt. Keep your hands and arms inside the basket. Mind the fuel pipes. Hold on to the rope handles, and at no stage let yourself out of the balloon until I say so. Understood?

Understood.

This is incredible. I can feel this cloud, says Lotty.

Yes, you are part of the real world, not inside a cockpit. Clouds are much denser and much more powerful now that the morning is disappearing and the heat of the day is building. Generally, we avoid them. It’s a sign that we need to land soon. There are a couple of nice empty fields ahead. Far one has a road and a gate. That’s our target.

As the balloon descends, the wind alters first from the left then from the right but, overall, stays on course for the end field.

We will hop over this barbed wire fence and contour-fly up the field and touch down a hundred metres from the gate. Okay?

The balloon gracefully touches down, and Jack pulls the parachute to empty the hot air. The balloon slides for twenty metres before wiping flat to the ground.

Jack happily says, There, that wasn’t too bad, was it? Just a small bump and slide. There’s Gill. That’ll please her. Always nice to be there to watch the landing from the gate.

Gill heads off to the farm to seek permission for access.

Enjoy that? Gives the world a different perspective, doesn’t it?

It’s so beautiful. The balloon is so quiet and flies so easily. It has such grace. I never knew it would be so beautiful.

Well, you have been treated to a flight in a small balloon. She is a bit like a racing car. She moves around the sky with the smallest bursts of heat. Very manoeuvrable!

I felt so close to nature. The deer and hares and foxes that you never see.

Oh, and Bob in his boat. He’s very close to nature himself. Jack laughs. Joking apart, Bob is a very interesting man. If you have a little time spare one day, I will take you fishing with him. A greater insight into a love of that lake you will not find anywhere. He is very connected to fishing, and the way he handles that skiff is truly awe inspiring. It’s like it has a spirit of its own, and he just talks to it lovingly. But also his knowledge of the wild life and insects is phenomenal. He must have liked you, or he wouldn’t have wanted a tow. We may see him in the pub later. Don’t expect him to be the greatest conversationalist though. He is very grounded and is known to not say much in the pub even with a few drinks on him.

Gill returns in the Landie, opens the gate, drives over to them, hops out of the Landie, and asks, What do you think? How does that change your view of the world?

I can see why you like it. Makes you feel more connected to the world even though you are less so. Strange, isn’t it? replies Lotty.

Probably when we put things further at arm’s length, we can see them better. Or if you want to be philosophical, then it could be that we live two-dimensional lives, and only when we see the world in three dimensions does it make sense. Bit like a cow, it knows its paths round the field, but when the balloon lands in the field, it is like it’s from the next dimension. I think that’s why they get scared. Most people are silly cows, aren’t they, Gill? says Jack openly.

Mooove on. Let’s pack up and discuss this over breakfast back at the pub, replies Gill.

And Dave the farmer, all okay? Jack enquires.

Harriet was fine. We will likely as not see them down the pub later. Dave is hedge-cutting the lanes.

Good. Thought that would be the case. Nice tidy end to the flight, Jack says contentedly.

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THREE

The Pub

What happened to the little red number? Jules squints through a shiny beer glass. Too much of a red flag to the bull?

It would’ve been fine. Flyboy couldn’t handle the lapse in concentration I think, Lotty says pointing at Jack. Could’ve been a mile-high moment.

Maybe next time. Need to fly out the other way where our allowable air space is higher, and I’ll bounce you between the clouds. Jack winks.

You been there? All hot air by any chance? Lotty looks at Gill.

Gill replies, Yes and no. We had our moments, a long time ago though. It’s probably worn out by now.

Jules says, I’ll have you know regular lubrication keeps the world rotating, doesn’t it, Jack?

Sure does. Especially round here, lubrication that is. What would you like for breakfast? asks Jack.

Full English for me. Tea and toast, says Lotty.

Gill?

Kipper and poached tomato. Toast and a small Macon.

Jules exclaims, Good girl! Lubrication all the way. And I guess you will have the usual?

Yes, with a bottle of Pol Roger.

Happy Daze! Cuvée?

No. Save that for the mile high. Jack winks to Jules. And put it on my slate.

Looks like I better choose some simpler jobs this afternoon, says Lotty. Do we still want tea?

Jack replies, But of course. Talk like that is how we lost the empire. Well, that and the Americans being late on duty twice.

Jules states, I assume you aren’t in a rush. I’m breaking in a new breakfast chef. Bit rough round the edges yet.

No hurry at all. In fact, it would be cruel to rush the day. Let’s sit by the fire and dry our boots out, says Gill.

Yes, I’ll fill in my logbook, and I will debrief you later, says Jack.

Sounds encouraging, says Lotty with a highly disbelieving nod of the head.

Well, what did you make of it really? asks Gill. Half of the fun for us is seeing our world through the eyes of a virgin flier! she says whilst smiling at Jack.

Well, let me think for a minute. Lotty pauses for a while.

Can’t have poetry without champagne. Compose yourself, dear, says Jack.

Here we go. Nicely on ice from the moment you flew over, says Jules.

It’s tradition, you see. Inauguration ritual. Sadly not followed enough these days. We used to set peoples’ hair on fire and put it out with champagne. Decided it was a waste of champagne, says Jack.

Well. Cheers, both. Thank you for having me, and I’m pleased my hair is intact. Lotty raises her glass.

Soft landings! toasted Gill.

Wassail! responded Jack. You live locally?

I live in Tilford. Brought up in Farnham. You?

I’m from Bentley, and Jack’s from Binsted. Bit inbred. Can’t help it, lack of social skills, eh, Jack?

Trust me—they improve no end for Gill after this bottle, says Jack.

Sounds like you live together, replies Lotty.

No, grew up together. I didn’t go to the convent though. Well, not every day, that is. Jack laughs.

You must’ve gone to a public school. It screams out of you, says Lotty, looking Jack straight in the eye.

"Yes, I did my time. Anyway, you should be lucid by now and deeply reflective. Another glass for ease of vinum verité to lubricate the brain?"

I think it wouldn’t go amiss. Lotty thinks awhile as the warmth of the fire and the effervescent freshness of the fizz take hold. Surprising thing was that it is so gentle. Apart from that steep dive, it really was tranquil. One feels like one is part of the flow of things. The dive was a bit wild. But the balloon certainly stopped fine. You could get used to it provided you knew that it would stop like that. Such a gentle launch as if the earth just moved away from you and left you above it. I didn’t like to look down the chimney stack—it showed me that I was higher up and gave me a small touch of vertigo. This champagne is lovely!

Yes, it’s a Taoist pastime, going with the flow, but sometimes needing a swift change of direction to maintain harmony, says Jack whilst hoping that she would continue a bit more and sneaking a small top-up into her glass.

What surprised me greatly was the feeling of connection to the earth. But you are right—that did go away at a certain height. Then I started to feel worried. Isolation in the void, I guess.

It’s the same for us all. It’s just that we all have different heights at which this occurs. There was a balloonist around here known as the Truffle Hunter, never went over five hundred feet for that very reason. The old saying was that man stands on the earth with his head in the heavens, but mainly close to the earth. A little like the material world and spiritual world. Why ballerinas float around on tiptoe trying to be ethereal. But I digress, says Jack philosophically.

And I never ever thought you could land on water. That was truly astonishing. Good job Bob was prepared. Could’ve given someone else a nasty shock.

On occasions like this, we do sometimes get people call the emergency services because they have seen a balloon go down in flames. I think the record was fifteen appliances following us on one occasion. They came from different stations, you see. People don’t expect the balloon to have such good control over height. Modern balloons with their powerful burners can fly within a few feet of things quite safely. In the old days, you couldn’t have done this. Many a balloonist ended up in the mire when it went wrong, says Jack knowingly.

And I thought the countryside was empty of wildlife. But there are lots of animals around that you don’t normally see. Foxes and hares, horses, donkeys, deer.

And locals doing things they shouldn’t, chips in Gill.

This fizz is really lovely! approves