My Grandad first learned to fly in a TigerMoth before joining Bomber Command in 1943. He would have been about 17 or 18 years old when he was training, and he remembers how he just couldn't "get the bloody thing to land". He trained for weeks with one instructor but somehow the chemistry between them was off and teacher student relationship was fairly sour. With 'the test' on the horizon, failure looked imminent. Until, only a matter of days before, said instructor was off sick and another took the flying lesson.
"I just can't land the bloody thing"
"No problem ol' chap ('cos that's how they talked in those days), we'll do a once around and just watch what I do."
My Grandad told me how something 'just clicked' this time and he realised that he needed to point the nose up as he was coming in to land. When it came to the test, the old instructor gloriously expected to fail him, but instead stood gawping as the plane was brought down gently and into a soft landing. He was told to do it again, and if he could land it a second time... well, the rest is history.
He looked pretty nervous I must admit. Well not 'nervous' actually, mesmerised is a better word. Perhaps in a reverie of time past? It was moving for me to be there aswell. Grandad had told me how one particular instructor had given him a chance from which thereafter he got the knack for flying aeroplanes. And then 10 or 20 years later, after retiring from being a flight instructor himself, he bumped into an ex-student of his (who was also now an instructor) who came up to him and furiously shook his hand, thanking him for teaching him a manouvre that he was struggling to master, lest he'd have to give up his dreams of being a pilot.
"I said to him that I was particularly pleased to have helped in that way becuase, that's what someone had done for me 25 years earlier"
And there's me, waiting with him, to watch him do something he'd done nearly 3 of my lifetimes earlier.
Another WW2 training aircraft. It's incredibly aerobatic. I watched it do a loop-di-loop!
Um... no pilots here. Except for the old geezer.
Grannies, grandparents, great aunts n' uncles. The night before, from my cousin's 21st birthday party. Shame, I got no pictures of my cousin's to moblog thru the generations.
The third pic is quintessential- Sam spitting his dentures out!
14th Sep 2005, 13:40
Went to Bumgay... sorry, I mean Bungay (pronounced "Bungy") in East
Anglia. Tiny little village with many Georgian houses, 11century
churches and remains of castles.
14th Sep 2005, 13:34
| tags:bungaycomments (16)
Quite like these pics but wouldn't say they were any good. However, there was a such a wicked buzz that night, so clearly my phone was diggin' it :-)
1. Half of teflon (fokt that 'un oop din't i?)
2. On teh move
3. Stopping on the island
4. Pausing for chat
5. Full flow
International Moblog Convention! Well... almost! Astonishing attendances all the way from Switzerland, Germany and New York- pretty darn amazing. Not to mention the long distances travelled by some within the UK- and the rare as a yeti sight of Rich... in London!
1. Pieceoplastic and Monkeypunk (aaaah, sweet!)
2. Teh Alfez0r
3. Euphro! Smiley as ever!
4. Pieco' and Alfie (anyone know who's that in the middle?)
5. Dhamaka and Daz
6. Mr and Mrs 540 air!
7. Rich and Dhamaka
8. (clockwise from left) Me, Bronxelf, Stefan, Daz, Dhamaka and Alfie.