This is a photo of my husband James and the WIFE. The initials w.i.f.e. are clearly visible on the Cessna’s tail – always referred to in radio comms as whiskey-india-foxtrot-echo. It’s a running joke that the four pilots who are members of its syndicate say they are “taking out the WIFE” whenever they fly it. Personally I’m not keen on heights and I don’t enjoy riding aloft in a biscuit tin strapped with a lawnmower engine, so I can’t compete with WIFE.
James loves nothing more than exploring small remote Hebridean islands by air, landing on beaches edged with the splendid machair, and discovering abandoned WW2 landing strips where there are only doe-eyed sheep for company.
Love should be generous enough to allow one’s spouse the freedom to pursue interests that one may not share. In the earlier years of our marriage James was quite restrained in such sorties, partly because I am hyper-aware of the risks, and he certainly had no wish to leave behind a widow and orphans (gulp!) But now that our four have grown and flown the nest, I have set him free to do what he loves most – to take to the skies with the beloved WIFE. I just pray that he’ll stay safe at all times, and always come home to me.
