Takeoff was scheduled for 1pm, and it dawned on me that, with Biggin just fifteen minutes up the road from my office, I could pop along in my lunch break and check it out.
Of course, I wasn't the only one with this bright idea. Traffic was crawling, and cars were parked for a mile each side of the airport, in pub car parks, in laybys, on verges and, in the case of half a dozen motorbikes, on a particularly large traffic island.
I found a cheeky space on the double yellow lines, between two cars, and joined the hundreds of other people staring agog through the wire netting as the aircraft taxiied. Takeoff was at the other end of the runway, but the planes circled round so everyone got a look. The sight and sound were awesome as, for a few minutes, the sky over Kent was as crowded with Spitfires and Hurricanes as it was in 1940.
I may, in the past, have complained about how difficult working in Bromley makes doing stuff in London after work. Bromley, you have redeemed yourself.