Hi,
In 1960, I was (I'd volunteered) posted to RAF Sharjah (two hoots and a holler from Dubai), flying from RAF Lynham (Wiltshire?). I duly presented myself, met two other
'ercs, signed the book, and then they pointed us to our aircraft .... ****** RAF VIP
COMET. I'm guessing we were "make weight".
What an aeroplane!!! Despite two civilian Comets exploding at high altitude (some of our readers will remember ... metal fatigue due to pressurising/depressurising, I think, combined with having windows with square corners), the RAF still flew them, but did not pressurise the cabins to the same degree. Whatever, 41,000ft, at 550knots, in 1960, was enough to keep me happy. The sky was almost navy blue. And smoooooth!
Stop-over ar RAF Akrotiri (sp?) Cyprus, where I met up with an old school mate, got invited to somebody's birthday party, and got plied with oozo. (at somebody else's expense ... I had left UK with less than four shillings ... £0.20 ... in my pocket). Ever onward ... I can't remember what plane took me from Aden to Sharjah, (probably a Viking) But twelve months later, I departed Sharjah in a Beverley, and changed to a Brittania, at Bahrein (sp?)
There was a story about the first Comet to fly the Atlantic. The pilot (or whoever) radioed the US ATC, to say he was approaching at 550knots and 41,000ft
ATC corrected him ...
"Don't you mean 250 knots and 21,000ft?" "NO!"My best mate's brother-in-law, was a reporter with the Daily Mirror. He contrived to be invited on a publicity trip in a Comet. They landed at Amsterdam, without incident. But taking off was a different matter ... the jet engines started to cut out, one after the other. They eventually took off with just
one engine.
All the journalists were elevated to First Class, and told not to discuss the matter.
That Comet was the first jet airliner to visit Amsterdam. As it was accelerating down the runway, it was sucking stones into its engines. This would not have happened with propellers.
My first flight was in a Tiger Moth, wearing goggles, and sitting on a parachute. My second flight was in a Puss Moth. Both were couple of circuits of Croydon Aerodrome. Croydon Aerodrome was closed down during WW2, as it would have made Croydon (town), a target for enemy bombing. RAF Kenley stayed open, and I've flown out of there too, but only Ansons and Oxfords, mainly circuits and a bump, although one Sunday morning, an AVM took me on his "G&T jolly" ... RAF Marham, Scampton, and Waddington, plus one other who's name I can't remember. I left home before anybody else was out of bed, returned at tea time. My mother asked where I had been. I told her. (She had already learned that it was best not to enquire too deeply into my unbelievable answers to such questions, so end of discussion..
On another occasion, "Middlesborough!" stopped her dead. I'd hitch-hiked from Croydon, to see if my uncle, (
Billy Dixon, who owned a garage) would give me a job until I was "drafted". I arrived just after midnight, only to find that the "garage" was a bicycle shop, with a petrol pump in the window.
(Does anybody here remember it?) I turned round, and started hitching back. About 240 miles each way. Blazer and flannels, NO money. But this was during the London bus strike, so hitching through London was easy.
602