Lots and lots of memories; some sad, most good, a few truly fantastic, and one which I'll never forget.
The sad ones - seeing XH558 fly her final display at Cranfield in 1993; the end of an era as the three Concordes came back in to LHR in October; landing at Cambridge after my first solo in eight years this summer to hear the Firefly had gone in just a few miles away at Duxford.
Good memories - every flight I've ever made; every safe display I've ever seen; watching the delight in my sons eyes as he watches the BBMF Lancaster fly over our house.
Fantastic memories - 19 Spitfires and 4 Hurricanes appearing in the Big Wing formation at Duxford a few years ago; flying into Oshkosh on my qualifying cross country in 93; helping change something on one of the Lancaster's engines at an ATC Camp twenty years ago and being rewarded by a sit in the fuselage as they ran her up afterwards; standing in Skysport's hangar a few years ago and touching the noses of both their Beaufighter and MAM's Mosquito FB6, and realising that, at that exact moment in time, I was the only man in the world who was able to touch both the RAF's WW2 principal night fighters at the same time. It's the little things that really make me smile...
But the one, overriding, totally unforgettable memory, is of my first flight, as a 13 year old Air Cadet. Strapped into the rear seat of a 1 AEF Chipmunk (WB569) at RAF Manston, we took off into a beautiful clear blue sky, climbed to 2000 feet, and for a few priceless minutes "I had control", and flew a single piston engined RAF aeroplane over the White Cliffs of Dover, with the ghosts of The Few up there with me. Still makes my spine tingle, even after all these years.
