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Old 21st Dec 2001, 07:23
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Flatus Veteranus
 
Join Date: Nov 2000
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Ah, Croydon! Dad was on home leave from Burma in the summer of '37 and took the family there for an outing one sunny day. I would have been 9. The terminal oozed glamour (built in "Art Deco" style I think). The thing to remember is that Croydon had nothing to do with mass air travel; flying was still the perk of the very rich and the very few (and seemed to prefer it that way!). One (not I) swept up to the entrance in the "Roller", flunkies opened the door, porters (remember them?) grabbed your bags and you were whisked away to the reception desk of one of the world's leading airlines in the foyer. There were smart restaurants, "cocktail bars" and, if you just wanted to goof, like us, you were pointed towards the roof observation terrace. Here they provided a running commentary over a PA system on the aeronautical activity. (Not too busy a job for the commentator!). I remember him rapsodising over the arrival of a KLM DC1 (or 2?), a silver, streamlined dreamship, whih "cruised at 150 mph" (in awed tones). Then we watched the Imperial HP birdcage waddle off towards Paris, all four wings flapping and engines roaring without much visible effect. I seem to remember the commentator saying that the 80 mph cruise gave plenty of time for a slap up meal, preceded by cocktails. No nonsense about plastic, it was proper crockery, silver and crystal.
I eventually wore Dad down and we went along to the office of Olley's Air Services, who sold short hops around the local area for about Ten Bob (half a quid, but I would not debase it by calling it 50p! it represented a fortune to a prep schoolboy) for 15/20 mins. I seem to remember that Capt Olley was ex-RFC because he and Dad, also ex-RFC, struck up instant rapport. We climbed into a DH Dragon, a pretty little twin engined biplane with a cabin for 6-8(?)passengers, two Gypsey engines and fixed undercarriage in spats. There was no bulkhead between the pilot and the passengers, so I could watch all that Olley did like a hawk. There was no R/T, so what ATC there was must have been done by Aldis lamps. The ride was uneventful, but a bit lumpy, and Dad looked a bit glum after a bit and his conversation with Olley dried up. On the ground again, I asked him with my usual tact whether he had felt airsick. "No. I thought Olley was spending too much time chatting to me and not enough looking where he was going".
Neverthess, he enjoyed the experience enough to join the flying club at Mingladon airport when he returned to Burma, and gained his PPL in Tiger Moths. He said the Tiger was a delight, but very "twitchy" compared with the lumbering old RE8 Harry Tate that he remembered so well from the RFC. <img src="smile.gif" border="0">

[ 21 December 2001: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ]</p>
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