Here’s a little – true – story:
Once, walking down some street in the London’s West End, I saw one of those leather-clad bike couriers yelling into his phone, shouting at someone, probably his dispatcher. The man was ANGRY (these guys always seem to be, but that particular one really had a bad day). As I got closer, I could hear the sound of Concorde drawing near. The next thing was amazing: upon hearing the roar of those engines, the chap stopped in mid-sentence, shut his phone off, turned his eyes to the sky and, lost in reverie for a few moments - smiled.
So did I, as I always did when the beautiful bird flew over London. Miss her...
