The clack clack of helicopter blades made me look up. The noise grew louder and harsher as an air ambulance circled and descended. Clearly it was planning to land nearby.
Then a paramedic unit arrived outside the basin - and another - and another - and another - and an ambulance - and an Incident Support Vehicle - and another paramedic unit. Meanwhile the chopper had landed in the wasteland that was the ironworks.
Onlookers stood around, curious to know what was going on. Some sort of major drama, no doubt. People dead, trapped, injured. A plane crash? What?
Then the truth came out - a girl had fallen off a rope swing in the waste ground and broken her leg.
"Bloody typical, shame it wasn't her neck," muttered a sympathetic passer-by.
The helicopter took off with its casualty (hopefully still able to enjoy the novelty of the ride, despite the pain) and slowly the ambulance crews drifted away.
"Last time we had this much drama was when a dog fell in the canal," said a fellow boater. "Six fire engines turned up. They never found the dog though."
Moral: if you must have an accident, have it in Stourbridge.
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