Wishing to Fly A Kite

Ever since I was a young girl, I played the silver ball. From Soho down to China, I must have played them all...oh no, hang on. That wasn't me. That was the Pinball Wizard. Rewind...

Ahem...

Ever since I was a young girl I wanted to fly a kite. Properly, you know, from the top of a gusty hill. I tried very hard to fly a kite. I grew up on my grand parents fruit farm and straight down the middle of the main field was a long, grassy track. On days the track wasn't being guarded by two highly vicious geese who terrified the living daylights out of us children, I would sometimes take my kite (a traditional diamond in red, blue and yellow canvas, later to be replaced by a plastic Womble effort which wasn't as nearly substantial), and stand at the end of the grass track. I would lick my finger and hold it into the air to test for wind direction. However, because the track only ran one way, this assessment of best available air current was generally pointless. But it seemed the proper thing to do at the time and I have since learned in growing up that I am person who likes to do things properly (or at least be seen trying to do things properly).

I would then hold my kite where the vertical and horizontal struts crossed in the centre of the fabric, gather up the tail, unravel enough string to facilitate a goodly kite height at the point of release and then I would run like the devil (or a goose) was after me until I felt I was going fast enough to release the kite into the air for take off.

In my mind the kite would then soar into the air behind me, achieving magnificent heights and I would be able to stop running, and turn and marvel at it as it swooped and dived across the sky. I would be able to stand and guide its movements with my string, giving masterful tugs until it rose higher and higher and became a hazy splash of colour amongst the scudding clouds.

In reality, the released kite would always lift to about 6 feet high, shudder, twist and then plunge to the ground with a thud, sometimes breaking in two for additional effect. I spent more time re-attaching the fabric to the struts, unravelling the tail and re-winding the string of that kite than it spent in the air dancing for me.

Why didn't it go my way? Why didn't reality match up with what I imagined in my mind's eye?

And then along came Mary Poppins and the kite-flying sequence at the end of the film where many, many kites are seen flying very, very high on strings that are taut and with tails that are perky, without so much as a puff of breeze in the air. From then on, life seemed very unfair in the kite-flying stakes.

I suppose to fly a kite you need more than vision and perseverance. It takes more than a wanting it to happen for it to actually happen. You need to have the right conditions, the right space. You have to experience that lucky moment when the right puff of air is passing by and then you have to GO FOR IT!NOW! QUICKLY...! Before it vanishes forever.

Ever since I was a young girl, I wanted to fly a kite...