brucemillar
MB Enthusiast
- Joined
- Nov 18, 2010
- Messages
- 8,661
- Car
- C55 AMG Wagon - W124 300te 4matic Wagon - BMW 4.8is X5 E53 - SWB Pajero 3.5 V6 24v
Unpowered flight: is the ability to stay airborne for a period of time without using any power source. There are several types of unpowered flight. Some have been exploited by nature, others by man, and some by both.
Well I have achieved it. Allow me to explain.
Some of you will know? I have been unwell (now recovering nicely) this means that I don't sleep as well as I used to. Frequent trips to the loo are required. My nocturnal stirrings can disturb my two huge Siberian Huskies, who, unlike me usually do sleep very well. Their finely tuned, dog intuition, alerting them to the fact that I have got out of bed (we don't share a bed with the dogs) and been to the en-suite toilet, had a pee, and returned to bed.
They sense that I have fallen into a deeper sleep than when I was first awoken by natures call. At this point! one or both of them? will decide it's time for them to venture outside to have a pee. Being unable to unlock the patio doors with their paws, they elect to start a howl that will wake up most of southern England and even Mrs M. If Mrs M is awoken? Things can turn nasty between us. Sleep deprivation, leads her to irrational behaviour, this can include physical assaults on my person. The dogs give warning of their imminent howling by tapping their claws on the wood floor as they make their way to the door, in preparation for my arrival to open it for them. This tapping alerts me to the need to move quickly and stealthily from our bed and down the stairs to where the dogs kip.
What could possibly go wrong with this well practised maneuver? How could this lead to my achieving unpowered flight?
Well the whole maneuver has to be done quickly. No time to put on clothes or a dressing gown. I still sleep in the nude and in the vain hope that Mrs M will one day rekindle her teenage passion for my hot male body.
It is not without risk. My two teenage daughters sleep downstairs. It is most probable that they could be traumatised for life were they to see my hot male body, were they to be awoken by the doggy toe tapping.
To ensure this can be accomplished peacefully and as designed. Every night as I make my way up the wooden hill to La La Land, I remove all obstacles that could interfere with my passage from bedroom to patio doors. That is every night, with the exception of last night, when knowing I had an early start I left Mrs M downstairs after I had to gone up to start my nightly ablutions.
Imagine my unrefined joy coupled with indescribable agony when (at the start of doggy toe tapping), I crept downstairs in the pitch black, on my memorised stealth route. I discovered that Mrs M had decided to leave out the hair tongs (don't ask) that I bought her for a Christmas gift. She had carefully placed these on the very bottom stair tread (their are nine treads) where my full momentum and weight allowed my unshorn foot to drop straight onto the upturned 13amp plug.
So there you have it. I shot vertically upwards into the stratosphere letting out a cry that even my huskies were in awe off. I stayed airborne for what seemed like an eternity, hanging in the cold night air level with the wall mounted lights (they need dusting). With no time to consider a graceful return to the earths atmosphere, I let gravity take control, before landing hard on my naked butt. A naked butt that now bears a three pronged bruise in the perfect shape of the three pronged 13 amp plug that I now also have on the sole of my right foot.
Mrs Millar appeared at the top of the stairs to utter the immortal words "what the hell are you doing, you will wake the whole house up." Then she was gone, back to bed. The dogs managed a look of almost comedic humour, before the female of the two gave an appreciative sniff of my butt.
I am not sure what is the greatest achievement here. The agony endured (and it still hurts) or the realisation of how high I actually managed to fly without an engine or wings.
Well I have achieved it. Allow me to explain.
Some of you will know? I have been unwell (now recovering nicely) this means that I don't sleep as well as I used to. Frequent trips to the loo are required. My nocturnal stirrings can disturb my two huge Siberian Huskies, who, unlike me usually do sleep very well. Their finely tuned, dog intuition, alerting them to the fact that I have got out of bed (we don't share a bed with the dogs) and been to the en-suite toilet, had a pee, and returned to bed.
They sense that I have fallen into a deeper sleep than when I was first awoken by natures call. At this point! one or both of them? will decide it's time for them to venture outside to have a pee. Being unable to unlock the patio doors with their paws, they elect to start a howl that will wake up most of southern England and even Mrs M. If Mrs M is awoken? Things can turn nasty between us. Sleep deprivation, leads her to irrational behaviour, this can include physical assaults on my person. The dogs give warning of their imminent howling by tapping their claws on the wood floor as they make their way to the door, in preparation for my arrival to open it for them. This tapping alerts me to the need to move quickly and stealthily from our bed and down the stairs to where the dogs kip.
What could possibly go wrong with this well practised maneuver? How could this lead to my achieving unpowered flight?
Well the whole maneuver has to be done quickly. No time to put on clothes or a dressing gown. I still sleep in the nude and in the vain hope that Mrs M will one day rekindle her teenage passion for my hot male body.
It is not without risk. My two teenage daughters sleep downstairs. It is most probable that they could be traumatised for life were they to see my hot male body, were they to be awoken by the doggy toe tapping.
To ensure this can be accomplished peacefully and as designed. Every night as I make my way up the wooden hill to La La Land, I remove all obstacles that could interfere with my passage from bedroom to patio doors. That is every night, with the exception of last night, when knowing I had an early start I left Mrs M downstairs after I had to gone up to start my nightly ablutions.
Imagine my unrefined joy coupled with indescribable agony when (at the start of doggy toe tapping), I crept downstairs in the pitch black, on my memorised stealth route. I discovered that Mrs M had decided to leave out the hair tongs (don't ask) that I bought her for a Christmas gift. She had carefully placed these on the very bottom stair tread (their are nine treads) where my full momentum and weight allowed my unshorn foot to drop straight onto the upturned 13amp plug.
So there you have it. I shot vertically upwards into the stratosphere letting out a cry that even my huskies were in awe off. I stayed airborne for what seemed like an eternity, hanging in the cold night air level with the wall mounted lights (they need dusting). With no time to consider a graceful return to the earths atmosphere, I let gravity take control, before landing hard on my naked butt. A naked butt that now bears a three pronged bruise in the perfect shape of the three pronged 13 amp plug that I now also have on the sole of my right foot.
Mrs Millar appeared at the top of the stairs to utter the immortal words "what the hell are you doing, you will wake the whole house up." Then she was gone, back to bed. The dogs managed a look of almost comedic humour, before the female of the two gave an appreciative sniff of my butt.
I am not sure what is the greatest achievement here. The agony endured (and it still hurts) or the realisation of how high I actually managed to fly without an engine or wings.
