It was now 1970. The IBM 360/195 computer was being installed at Bracknell, and all the war-dispersed HQ cells had come home to roost. The 10-level Bushby-Timpson model, was based on the scheme formulated by J. S. Sawyer. My old heroes Fred Bushby and John Sawyer of Dunstable days were still leading world science. The model was a massive advance but was still not hemispherical. Useful rainfall numerical prediction was at hand.
RAF Finningley had a rather benevolent weather peculiarity: ‘reconnaissance rain’. When an active warm front was behaving, chugging along steadily from the west, the arrival of rain was very likely to be two hours early, briefly, followed by dry, followed by the rain.
6 FTS was the main customer, training navigators, there were also loadmasters, engineers and air electronics responsibilities. Met. was housed upstairs in 3 hangar [I still have the brass key tag for the ablutions] when I arrived. S Met O was Mac, a hugely experienced and unflappable Scot, very well-liked by staff and the RAF. He led the extensive teaching programme but the demand meant that a second body was needed. We went in turn to the Ground Instructional Technique course at Upwood, the best course that I ever attended. The second teacher was taken off forecasting for six months at a time, this was universally unpopular because the shift-working premium was lost. Teaching relied on the Overhead Projector, and the navigators suffered about 40 hours of dry adiabatic lapse rates and clear air turbulence. The Duty Number Two decamped to the Nav school and shared an office with two screen navs. One such, married to an RAF doctor, took the bold step of selling both cars and made a long-term arrangement with a local car hire firm, apparently saving a lot of money.
Met. moved to the Air Electronics building quite soon: the transition must have been silky smooth because neither I nor any of the surviving movers can remember any detail. It just happened.
Low-level nav. was flown in JPs, high-level in Varsities and later in Dominies. We saw a goodly number of Vulcans dropping in, and there was still a SSA which S Met O was cleared to visit in order to check the conditions, so I imagine the cupboard was not bare.
My seven years at Finningley were interrupted by major elective surgery for the duodenal problems. The straight-laced Methodist Lay-Preacher, C Met O Wilf of Manby, on being told there was only a 10% fatality rate, took the news well and asked how soon I would be back at work.
Pay and conditions had become very poor and there was a well-supported strike which fell on my sleep day after a night shift. Mac was ordered to send in a list of strikers so I asked my name to be included. “Don’t be bloody silly, no!”
The most nerve-wracking forecasts were for the end of course nav flights to Gibraltar. This was because diversions were few, and landing in Spain was diplomatically a very poor idea. I think about four Dominies went, carrying students and screens away for the weekend. The TAFs issued by possible diversions were often difficult to believe, but the saving grace was that satellite images were readily available to us. Nevertheless the go/no go decision, made by OC Flying, was heavily influenced by the forecaster, and both over-optimism and over-caution would inevitably cost a great deal of money and time. I felt the weight of responsibility higher than ever before on those early Friday mornings.
At age 38 I now had 11 years seniority, and the field for promotion to Senior Scientific Officer opened at 12 years. Nevertheless I was summoned, took leave, swotted and appeared before a Board chaired by Fred Bushby of all people. After being put through the mangle for 90 minutes I was set free, the tick in the box, six weeks leave, and 1st class rail travel on duty.
And bloody Bracknell.