Plane Spotting

Today I spent 3 1/2 hours at the Manchester Airport viewing park. I had a flask of tea, The Independent and my binoculars for company. When i was young i was a plane spotter, I live 3 miles from the airport directly under the flight path and all my mates were spotters. We used to spend many joyous days at the airport taking the registration numbers and noting the airline and type. As i grew older the hobby fell to oneside and i "grew" out of it.

Strangely now in my early 40s I am getting drawn back into this hobby, I no longer take the numbers, but there is something fascinating about those huge metal things. Which brings me onto the point of today. I am now a spotter of plane spotter's. I actually enjoy watching them go about thier business. Plane spotting is a very singular hobby, today I witnessed many men (no women) of all ages silently go about their hobby and came up the photokit of a true plane spotter.

He is on average around 50 years old, he will have a beard, his jacket will have plane badges on it, hats are de riguer and airline caps are considered high fashion, he will have a bag, in the bag will be binoculars, a notepad, a pen, a range of aviation reference material, a camera, a flask, crisps, sandwiches and it appears they all eat those high energy fibre bars. In the back pocket of his trousers will be an aviation scanner with an earpiece attached as they listen to the control tower.

An approaching plane brings out something almost balletic in the group. Almost in situ the binoculars raise up, the plane is followed to the ground, the binoculars fall, the notebook appears, the number is noted and as the plane turns they all bend for their cameras. Up they all come, the snaps are taken, the camera is returned to the bag and out comes an energy bar. At manchester this is repeated every few minutes.

Forget watching Antelopes roam the serengeti, get to your local aviation viewing park and watch this strange ritual. It can become hypnotic.