As a Spacey, I used to spend some of my spare time watching the F4s going round and around and around strafing the float off Cowden.
One quiet afternoon, I looked south towards Donna Nook and spotted something heading up the coast. Lo and behold, one Vulcan, bomb doors open, running in at what seemed cliff-top height.
Imagine the excitement, soon to turn to disappointment at the sight of what must have been the tiniest of practice bombs, which barely caused a ripple as it missed the float by a fair distance.