Tuesday evening, about half past six, there was an intriguing contrail.
The day had been reasonably warm & sunny, with a variety of cloud. The evening was the same, with some of the cloud tinged with enough of a pink blush to give some optimism for the Wednesday’s weather.
The plane was travelling east & south climbing out of Manchester Airport, only minutes into its journey.
The lower part of the contrail was well formed, holding together, a silver blade in the setting sun.
Then came a gap.
Then almost perfectly formed small puffy white balls of cloud – like an ellipsis.
Then the silver line resumed.
The next time I could get a glimpse of it through the roof tops the contrail suddenly stopped short altogether & the parts already laid down were roughening up, spreading & beginning to disappear.
