Sunday, 9 April 2006

Kite-flying, or how to have an argument quickly and cheaply


I'd bought Ben a kite for Christmas - a slightly random present as he's never mentioned an interest in kite-flying but I thought it might be a fun thing to do.

Oh I was wrong. For its inaugural flight we went out into Victoria Park, neither of us really knowing how to kite-fly. According to the box, this kite was 'fool-proof'. It also had no instructions.

We arrived at the top of the hill where the wind was gustiest and Ben held the controls and I held the kite. The idea was that we both ran until the wind picked the kite up, then Ben would perform all manner of extreme stunts. So we both ran until the wind picked the kite up, then Ben ran some more, then the kite came down. This happened about 10 more times. I got slightly irritated because I thought that perhaps you're supposed to start with the string short, then lengthen it as the kite picked up. I realised there was only one way to clear this up once and for all - call Sam Storey.

I phoned him. He basically told me that Ben's way was the right way. Ben was fuming. I was tetchy. The wind was not consistently blowy. We decided to call it a day.

I think Ben was most cross that I felt I had to phone my brother. But Sam is a font of random knowledge. Just yesterday I called him to remind me of the name of Billy Connelly's house. It's 'Gruntfuttock'. Who else would know that?
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