It started with the dawn as aviation history was made right here over Lac de Neuchatel. I drove to a nearby perch to watch a distant winged dot in the sky. It was the world's first solar-powered aircraft to fly all through the night on its batteries, and it was still in the air as the sun rose this morning, the golden light giving the plane's solar cells a photon transfusion, until, after 26 hours aloft, the solarplane reluctantly landed, proving in effect that it could soar forever, or until the pilot had to come down to take a pee.
Next came the happy moment when, after two months, my darling wife's cast came off her foot. Who'd a thunk that a fracture in her pinky toe bone would lead to all this time in a fiberglass cocoon? Now she's barefoot and fancy free, and we're kicking up our heels, dancing away from anymore lame foot metaphors.
While chérie was offering her leg to a nurse who wielded a circular saw that buzzed like something from a chainsaw massacre, I strolled across the street to the commune office, hoping that they had at last received the little piece of plastic I had been coveting for three months. And lo and behold ...
No, really, that's fine, but please, not before lunch. We've still got Champagne toasts to make, and that'll be enough for today.
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