Anyone who has read The Kite Runner will remember actually how dangerous it was. Yet we think of kites as symbols of freedom and family fun. Of course they are, when dad or grandad get on the beach and give the instructions to the minions to hold that line...don't let go...did I say hold!
Every year Morecambe has a kite festival. It's big business now. There are kites to take you up in the air with them and kites to fly over water, skimming and somersaulting like mad birds in the sea foam.
I love the festival, but somewhere in the back of my mind is a niggling thought about the kite runners of Afghanistan or even India as I view the colours and shapes hanging up in the Northern air.
The beach is packed with kite flyers.
From the Midland Hotel along the West Prom.
It's a day for mum to bring the picnic and the kids to race up and down the sands while dad unravels the string for the kite, for the umpteenth time.
A day for mad theatricals.
A day for death defying acts.
A day for queueing up to get the best icecream on the prom from Kate's van.
A time for kite surfers on The Bay.
A time for the older ones to dream of their childhood.
A time for the young to dream of a future.