Frequent Flyer
Weeks ago Qantas CEO Alan Joyce stood in front of a big bird and proclaimed it to be "da Queen of da skoies". He was referring to the 747 jumbo jet which will soon be retired from service.
I beg to differ Alan for there is a bird that has ruled above Australia well before the monarchy first touched down. And I'm a major shareholder in its operation.
There's nothing cheap about my bird – she's more A380 than ezyjet. Her robust and stocky fuselage sprouts wings that lift and transport her bulk with ease.
Flying daily non stop from lily pilly to veranda for more than 10 years, flights are on schedule and land the moment I step into the kitchen.
I provide fuel for return fights in the form of raw chicken necks that are swallowed and stowed quicker than a flight attendant disarms doors and cross checks.
Other domestic carriers do little to disrupt the flight path of this Australian icon. She is totally unflappable. Cheap and noisy miners do their best to delay flights, steal fuel or steer her off course but they are no match for a dreamliner.
Neither are gale force winds, clear air turbulence or inclement conditions that play havoc with other slightly built frames that share the skies.
There are nine birds in the feathered fleet. From birdbath to verandah, bottle brush to balcony or telegraph pole to table, occasionally all flights converge which sends this air traffic controller into a spin and up to IGA to buy more fuel.
Apart from rescuing a young pilot who found his wings too early and mending a busted wing that necessitated time in the Zoo hangar, to date there have been no near misses or air crash investigations. All seem to know their place in the pecking order.
Sitting on the fruit bowl, windowsill or on any stretch of tarmac she prefers, there is one particular bird that will perch happily for hours and enjoy my in-house entertainment.
At a time in my life when flying solo is reality it is the relationship that I have with this beauty that keeps me grounded. She trusts and I provide.
I beg to differ Alan for there is a bird that has ruled above Australia well before the monarchy first touched down. And I'm a major shareholder in its operation.
There's nothing cheap about my bird – she's more A380 than ezyjet. Her robust and stocky fuselage sprouts wings that lift and transport her bulk with ease.
Flying daily non stop from lily pilly to veranda for more than 10 years, flights are on schedule and land the moment I step into the kitchen.
I provide fuel for return fights in the form of raw chicken necks that are swallowed and stowed quicker than a flight attendant disarms doors and cross checks.
Other domestic carriers do little to disrupt the flight path of this Australian icon. She is totally unflappable. Cheap and noisy miners do their best to delay flights, steal fuel or steer her off course but they are no match for a dreamliner.
Neither are gale force winds, clear air turbulence or inclement conditions that play havoc with other slightly built frames that share the skies.
There are nine birds in the feathered fleet. From birdbath to verandah, bottle brush to balcony or telegraph pole to table, occasionally all flights converge which sends this air traffic controller into a spin and up to IGA to buy more fuel.
Apart from rescuing a young pilot who found his wings too early and mending a busted wing that necessitated time in the Zoo hangar, to date there have been no near misses or air crash investigations. All seem to know their place in the pecking order.
At a time in my life when flying solo is reality it is the relationship that I have with this beauty that keeps me grounded. She trusts and I provide.
You can sing praises of your retiring Queen Alan but right now my Nancy 'Bird' Walton is laughing at you.
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