So I planned for a trip to Biggin, to deal with the Wrotham Mast/London TMA "squeeze" and the busy R/T, thence to Sheerness, to get a view of the coast, then back. Frances's forecast looked good - "early cloud but the sun will come powering through", and I went to bed confident of a good flying day.
Bright and early this morning I got the Spitfire out and set out to get to Headcorn for 9. It certainly was cloudy but I had faith. Did the checks, and Bruce asked me to "fire her up" while he worked in the clubhouse, and take her over to the pumps. Responsibility! It's only a tiny thing and all you grown-up PPLs will think nothing of it but I got a little glow from that!
Anyway, we clattered off, and although I have the greatest respect for the doyen of Sky TV forecasters, on this occasion his guess was pants. Wall-to-wall clag sorrounded us by about 1'000 ft. I did a double take at the murk and Bruce said, 'Did you get forecast from Biggin?' Hmmm. Well, no. 'Never mind. You can do some instrument flying.' And off we went through the cloud with me struggling to keep my eyes
inside the cockpit, the instruments now being my sole point of reference for stable flight in the climb. Well, we emerged into brilliant 'VFR on top' and did some slow flight and other upper air revision.
There was very little wind and that caught me out later when (south-east, in VFR) we did a PFL: I was hugging the field and came in too high. Frantic sideslipping would have been necessary in a real-life situation. It also caught me out in the flapless landing back at Headcorn. That started out too high and I let down on the runway while still too fast. Sorted it, though - more to chalk up to experience.
Now there was nothing for it but to book the Skills Test. So I did. And it will be on the 19th of November, the great British weather permitting.
I'm now in a bit of a daze. I'm finding my mind echoing back over the last 28 years. God, how I've waited for this moment!
(Whoops! - a bit of real emotion there! Not cool. But let it stay.) And now it's almost upon me. Of course, there is the little matter of passing the damned thing.............