The Red Arrows and their blue smoke
Discussion
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Here's a blog post from a couple of months ago. It was the first thing I thought of after seeing them display earlier this year.
Red paint blazing in the afternoon sun, the nine Hawk T1s lifted as one from the tarmac, eased into formation, turned to streak back across the airfield and disappeared into the distance. Fifty thousand pairs of eyes eagerly scanned the skies to no avail. Where were they? A minute passed... two... three; murmurs began to ripple through the restless, expectant crowd. And then, from nowhere, they were back. Ever the master showmen, the Red Arrows had kept us waiting for just long enough. Wingtip perfect with a roar to raise the dead, they blasted overhead, a wonderfully evocative ribbon of red, white and blue smoke trailing in their wake. Then, as the colours began to melt into the background, it struck me. It just wouldn’t work without the blue.
And yet, should the people of Scotland vote to leave the United Kingdom, that’s exactly the sort of thing that would have to happen. Trivial? Perhaps; but it’s another of the myriad unforeseen consequences of a vote for Scottish independence.
As I write, the referendum is looming; there are only seventy-one days to go. Both sides are waging what will undoubtedly become increasingly desperate campaigns to further their own agendas – both sides peddling their own political and economic arguments. They won’t change a thing. It’s politics and economics; people have always held entrenched views on such matters. They always will.
The union is about far, far more than petty-minded squabbles over policy. It’s about a state of mind, a national psyche. It isn’t some hastily assembled marriage of convenience between artificially created states, some painted over crack to try and hold the peace between continually hostile nations. That would never have worked – a painful lesson it seems the world is still to learn. For over three hundred years the countries of Scotland and England have been bound, partners. Without wishing to sound trite, we really have achieved a lot together. It hasn’t always been easy - everybody knows that - but that which binds us has historically proved an awful lot stronger than anything that might have come between us. To tear up the Union is to rip apart our firmly established identity.
I’m British. I was born of an English mother and Scots father. I’ve always identified myself as British and don’t want a passport that says anything else. The thought of our two countries being separate nation states, with all that would necessarily entail, depresses me profoundly. Any rivalry should be confined to the arenas of Murrayfield and Wembley, where it belongs. I sincerely hope the people of Scotland agree with me.
2014 marks the fiftieth year the Red Arrows have delighted us with their breathtaking displays; the sublime aerial ballets that give us all a welcome reminder, in these cynical, post-recessionary days, that some things really can still be Great about Britain. I hope to God that on the 19th September I wake up to find there is going to be a fifty-first.
We truly are better together.
Red paint blazing in the afternoon sun, the nine Hawk T1s lifted as one from the tarmac, eased into formation, turned to streak back across the airfield and disappeared into the distance. Fifty thousand pairs of eyes eagerly scanned the skies to no avail. Where were they? A minute passed... two... three; murmurs began to ripple through the restless, expectant crowd. And then, from nowhere, they were back. Ever the master showmen, the Red Arrows had kept us waiting for just long enough. Wingtip perfect with a roar to raise the dead, they blasted overhead, a wonderfully evocative ribbon of red, white and blue smoke trailing in their wake. Then, as the colours began to melt into the background, it struck me. It just wouldn’t work without the blue.
And yet, should the people of Scotland vote to leave the United Kingdom, that’s exactly the sort of thing that would have to happen. Trivial? Perhaps; but it’s another of the myriad unforeseen consequences of a vote for Scottish independence.
As I write, the referendum is looming; there are only seventy-one days to go. Both sides are waging what will undoubtedly become increasingly desperate campaigns to further their own agendas – both sides peddling their own political and economic arguments. They won’t change a thing. It’s politics and economics; people have always held entrenched views on such matters. They always will.
The union is about far, far more than petty-minded squabbles over policy. It’s about a state of mind, a national psyche. It isn’t some hastily assembled marriage of convenience between artificially created states, some painted over crack to try and hold the peace between continually hostile nations. That would never have worked – a painful lesson it seems the world is still to learn. For over three hundred years the countries of Scotland and England have been bound, partners. Without wishing to sound trite, we really have achieved a lot together. It hasn’t always been easy - everybody knows that - but that which binds us has historically proved an awful lot stronger than anything that might have come between us. To tear up the Union is to rip apart our firmly established identity.
I’m British. I was born of an English mother and Scots father. I’ve always identified myself as British and don’t want a passport that says anything else. The thought of our two countries being separate nation states, with all that would necessarily entail, depresses me profoundly. Any rivalry should be confined to the arenas of Murrayfield and Wembley, where it belongs. I sincerely hope the people of Scotland agree with me.
2014 marks the fiftieth year the Red Arrows have delighted us with their breathtaking displays; the sublime aerial ballets that give us all a welcome reminder, in these cynical, post-recessionary days, that some things really can still be Great about Britain. I hope to God that on the 19th September I wake up to find there is going to be a fifty-first.
We truly are better together.
markmullen said:
I heard a rumour that coming up to the Commonwealth Games opening ceremony the Red Arrows were asked to display with just the white and blue, no red, and replied that they only do red white and blue and if that was the stipulation they'd head home and there would be no display.
Also if they had done just white and blue, the Argentinian newspapers would be in full swing by the morning. Imagine the story "British red arrows fly over port Stanley, las Malvinas in support of the Argentinian claim to the islands" a quick bit of photoshop and boom story. Gassing Station | Boats, Planes & Trains | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff