Normally don't give the Mirror the time of day, but they do this sort of thing well.
It's the Queen's official birthday. Trooping of the colours, and most importantly, the flypast.
We live on a hill, downstream from the city. Every year, like clockwork, the houses empty and we get the immense pleasure of watching the fly past heading over our heads at about 50 feet while doing final approach to the Palace.
The choppers this year were a nice touch - sending them in first. A Merlin (get in, bleep things up and get out again), 2 Pumas - both medevacs by the insignia, and a Chinook.
Then a DC3. Possibly the most uncomfortable plane ever made, but it hauls a massive amount and can stop on a dime and give you change.
Finally, the thing we were all waiting for. One Lancaster bomber, flanked by a pair of Spitfires (the Hurricane that usually does the flight were apparently downchecked. You don't hear them coming. You feel them in your bones, especially flying that low. We all went mental. Jumping, cheering, waving flags. Got a flash of the landing lights from one of the Spits.
The rest of the fly past we saw from a distance, they had a flight path North of the river, so no Red Arrows this year for us.
A nice treat on a rainy Saturday!