As a small boy, walking home across fields from a particularly tiring school-day in Waltham, Lincolnshire in the 70’s, the ground began to shake. I looked up, over the distant terraced roofs. The ground began to leap. A low rumble became a roar. My own shadow disappeared into a much darker shape cast on the ground. The Vulcan appeared right above me, flying low over the fields. My mouth fell open and I reached up, convinced I could touch the undercarriage.
As it flew overhead, I leaned over so far backwards that I promptly toppled over, falling flat on my back.
The Vulcan had just personally introduced itself to me and how!