Ok so I may be a miserable git (See No.71 below) but I'm also a sometime adventurer and dangerous sportsman. Not many can boast hotair ballooning Saturday night followed by a surfing trip the day after.
We took off last night from the pilot's front garden narrowly missing his telegraph pole and headed - well anyway the wind was going to take us I suppose. The timing of the take off was n't great. By that I mean it was 8p.m which meant I didn't get to find out whether my Sue had triumphed on stage until much later. After clearing a hill by just a few inches (apparently it's a game balloon pilots play seeing how much of nature they can grab and stick in the basket when airbourne) we headed over a good number of wind turbines and got ready to land near the Battery pub just shy of Broughshane. As we floated over a farm house a family rushed out to wave and we shouted down "Did Susan Boyle win?" but they seemed unable to answer between them. Strange folk those round Broughshane!
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