The long descent

On windy days I often think back to an event that took place long, long ago when I was but a boy and health and safety was still in short trousers. The drama that I am about to unfold for you took place on the 85th birthday of my best friend’s grandfather.

Alan’s granddad was a small, slightly built man but surprisingly sprightly for his age. In those days 85 was an good age to have reached and the family had decided that the occasion should be marked with more than the usual victoria sponge and yet more pairs of socks and pants. They could have organised some sort of surprise for him but it no doubt seemed easier just to ask him what he would most like to do on his special day. I think they expected him to take time to think about his birthday treat but when he came back with an instant reply they were both surprised and regretful that they didn’t take the trouble to organise a surprise, after all. In a manner that sounded almost rehearsed the old man stated that the only thing he wanted -and his tone of voice strongly implying the only thing he would settle for- was to perform a parachute jump. Anyway, to cut a long story short, and spare me the the trouble of making one up, the family accepted the inevitable and Alan’s dad organised the parachute jump.

Before Alan’s granddad was allowed to make the jump it was necessary for him to attend a training session; which he got through with no problem, apparently. The instructor did have one or two safety concerns, but, after the old man’s agreeing to remove his false teeth beforehand, he seemed to be satisfied that it was safe to go ahead.

The event was to take place on a Wednesday morning. Luckily, it was the school holidays and Alan invited me along to watch the spectacle. So there we all were, about a dozen of us standing in a field looking towards the skies. At first there was just a faint, distant drone, but then appeared a spec in the sky which very shortly became identifiable as a small aircraft. Up till then it had been a fine early June morning, barely a cloud in the sky and very still. Just before the aeroplane was over the field, though, a breeze seemed to come out of nowhere.

The plan was for Alan’s granddad to jump first, followed very soon after by the instructor. It was only when the chutes opened that the flaw in the plan became apparent. The first thing we noticed was that the instructor was descending noticeably quicker than the granddad. The second thing we noticed was that the granddad’s progress seemed to be more horizontal than vertical. As I mentioned earlier, Alan’s granddad was not a very substantial man, and it now became obvious that the degree of his insubstantiality had not been adequately taken into account.


As I watched I was reminded of a dandelion seed floating on the wind, after being blown free from the fluffy pom-pom of the flower head. Alan’s dad got in his car and tried to follow but the roads, of course, didn’t always run in the direction he wanted to go, so a certain amount of predicting the final destination was called for. He was never going to get it right, no one could have.

The granddad of Alan’s adventure came to a undignified end when he clattered into the dustbins behind the chiropodist’s on the High Street. Now this was an amazing coincidence because he had an appointment at that very chiropodist’s that very afternoon. The commotion brought the staff running out to see what had happened almost immediately. After a short period of questions and explanations, granddad was whisked inside and given a mug of very sweet tea; which was the remedy for most things in those days. The staff couldn’t have been better, they brought forward his appointment and treated his corns there and then.

This is a true story and everything happened exactly as I have described.