Just a liitle yarn that I heard from the man who instigated it's telling in the first place. He was formerly a flying instructor in the RAAF. He 's passed on now, but on the map, his name is on a little mountain near a place called Lake Pedder, in the Apple Isle. (once Van Dieman's Land)
Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, into the met office at Cambridge Airport, (the one at Hobart , Tasmania) , there stomped the CFI of the newly formed Aero Club of Southern Tasmania, Lloyd Jones, till not long before , an instructor at No9 EFTS Western Junction, in the State's north.
Lloyd and the met man , Sam, disliked each other's GUTZ , to put it mildly. Lloyd, with pipe clenched between his teeth, stood by Sam's desk, feeling in his pocket for his matches. He lit his briar, then casually tossed the match into the nearby metal waste paper basket, igniting the scrunched up paper therein. A furious Sam leapt up from his chair, went to stamp the fire out, but his shoe jammed in the now blazing basket, and was about to set his strides on fire. Swearing loudly, Sam danced around the room trying desperately to shake the basket free.
What did the very cool Lloyd do? He lent over Sam's consol and pressed the big red knob, setting off loud sirens and alerting the airport fire crew. A fire extinguisher was mounted on the wall of the met office, so Lloyd took hold of it and used it for its designed purpose.
Needless to say, from that day on, any duff weather forecast by Sam, Lloyd ignored. And went flying anyway.