It was often a case of getting the aircraft home at low cost at beginning of season and the reverse in the Autumn. Nice on a Britannia with a full cabin crew to oneself.
I've got a few stories about the early sixties, and remember vividly some of the characters I flew with as a young DC3 FO. An incident in Rochester nearly brought my new career to an abrupt end - along with a million lives of our passengers. Seats were in Rochester, boxes of worms were in the back. Ewwwww . . . if we had crashed. Ewwwwwww.
Danny Burges farming the fields of Ipswich airport. Land, change into overalls, start tractor. Nice kind of life. Then there was the Great White Horse. (censored)
Then of course there was Bill Mailor. Flew Over the Hump in Burma. "Skin missing off nose, could see the trees going by under our feet." Call for gear down as he lit his last cigarette of the sector. Most of the cigarette was a long glowing point which he stubbed out just before the wheels peeped on the concrete. Now, that's smoking.
Hans showed me low flying between AMS and ROT. We climbed and turned so we could see the two white lines of foam on the water. "Let's have a go" says I. He just laughed and shook his head. It's all like yesterday. Mike Russell used to imitate his laugh to a T.
Getting punched by Johnny Wallens Sp? Not fair! I'd jumped on the brakes because the aircraft had lurched forwards upon the second engine bursting into life. I just didn't get it. That's what was supposed to happen - lurching forwards - on a five sector day, lurching in the right direction was a good thing. Sprogs who jump on the brakes, BAD.
And then of course in walks Neat Pete. The name given to the captain that walked in and announced to a stunned Sid Walsh and the entire ops room that he'd been appointed as something like Operations Director. I don't know for sure, but it got their attention. You could hear a pin drop. And then things got really interesting. . . .