While traveling up from the south, I’ve been feeling quite nostalgic for the fifties and sixties when we still had an aiforce that had some money for fuel. Most days in most regions I’ve heard and seen lovely flights of fast jets tonking around the shop. My breakfast this morning was to the music of jets at full chat off to play in the Jura, I guess with other chaps. Couldn’t see them but it took me back to my youth in places like Norfolk and Suffolk.
I don’t know how many hours you get a month now. I’m told that it isn’t so much. What ever happens politically, I devoutly hope that we, as a nation, will realise that there is no substitute for hours in the cockpit.