Originally Posted by
The Old Fat One
Apologies for the thread drift, but Beags just reminded me of one of my favourite Nimrod stories.
Sunday morning 6am, high summer, not a breath of wind, already 20deg in still air.
Long range ops sortie, max all up weight. Runway 30.
As I peered out my wee AEO's bubble window at the tents in the Trebelzue campsite, about 50 feet below my bum cheeks, wondering at the effect on the eardrums of four Speys at max chat insulated by nothing more than a tent wall and some Cornish morning air, all I could think was...
"morning campers"
Ahh, Trebelzue gate, the short cut back to 42 in the early ‘60’s after a liquid lunch at Auntie Pearl’s AKA The Riviera Lodge, now sadly closed and redeleveloped.