Not that it was that easy, after all, you have to be in a position that allows easy access to the lug-nuts on the underside, and that can be a little awkward if you do not want to interrupt her viewing schedule, or have to face rather intrusive inquiries from her about some of the more recondite plot points from the time she was momentarily distracted by you disappearing into the undercarriage at such a crucial point in the programme.
However, for those of us who enjoy a quiet - and intimate – evening at home with the WWI biplane of our choice, sometimes there is no other option that to take it with us when there is the tantalising prospect of an interesting programme about to air on television. Such is the rarity of that occasion that it does need something special to set it apart from the usual evening of celebrity-fronted drivel about – apparently – what they did on their holidays.
So, to share the room with – say, a Sopwith Camel or even a Fokker triplane - could be – quite easily – be the cultural highlight of the week, surpassing even the traditional weekly game of Guess What The Thing On The Dinner Plate Is Meant To Be round at some relative's house.
Still, things can be a bit fraught, especially when checking the idling sped of the engine, or testing of the wing flaps, results in a slight disturbance to her Downton Abbey experience, while she points out that you never seem to find it necessary to taxi your biplane across the living room whenever there is a chance that one of the leading ladies is about to disrobe.
Still though, those lug-nuts – as you point out with ever-decreasing patience – will not tighten themselves, no matter what shenanigans the Downton household find themselves taking part in this week.