Flying

Ignoring the incredible gymnastics performed by the dancers on and off and around and under and through the huts, I'm going out on a limb here, and saying that seeing Felix fly was more than any of us expected. When he finished, everyone applauded.

Each rehearsal becomes more compicated and more dense. At Saturday's rehearsal there was the band, the flying, the backhoe, Quilla, the Primordials, the dancers and the community people. There was a lot to watch. And a lot to do.
Fortunately, for those of us in the quarry, it was cloudy and damp. Not a great day for sailing (see below) but fine for being in the quarry in July. As expected, the quarry is bigger than a breadbox. We all had to trot from side to side flying the turf behind us like a sail. The first try is fine; the second time is a little tiring. By the third or fourth effort, back and forth seems very far indeed. And there's all that stuff to think about. The turf has to sail--so you have to create some wind under it. That means jogging, or trotting, or running or whatever you call it. And of course with one's arms extended over one's head and slightly behind the vertical, there's a lot of posture to think about. You'll see.