Chris To**e calling Aldergrove approach telling them he would be in the hover for 30 mins at 11000ft and OC230 hearing the call. We had hypoxia lectures for the next week and it gave rise to the song 'Ground Control to Major To*ne"
Having done that for many nights (although we never announced it on the radio) we finally got stood down because the aircraft went u/s. We retired for "a quiet Pimms"; of which I had never drunk more than one before. More people arrived and joined us outside, it was a rare, balmy night and rapidly a huge Pimms pi$$ up somehow developed ( I think we must have been buying), mainly on the small patio/path outside the bar window. We soon drank the mess dry of the stuff; gallons of it. Someone was sent out and more appeared from the NCOs mess. I vaguely remember deep stainless steel trays of the stuff being proffered from the bar window ledge.
Next day I woke with the world's worst hangover, still wearing my brand new white shirt. At that time it had become quite rare for me to be in civvies in the evenings, normally we were off to work then so I didn't usually get to drink much and I wasn't used to it. Staggering to the loo I realised my skin hurt. I looked in the mirror and saw I was covered in blood patches, front, rear and face, and my shirt had dozens of holes. I then noticed many thorns sticking out of the blood patches. I had allegedly tried to climb in through the bar window, someone moved the wall and I fell headfirst into the thorn hedge below, from where my colleagues thoughtfully pulled me out backwards after they had stopped laughing.
I was later advised that I should make a point of apologising to the Sqn Ldr (WRAF) dentist. I did and she told me that she had actually enjoyed the evening. Never did find exactly out what I was apologising for but I was too embarrassed to ever go for a dental check up in NI.
Ah yes, they were the days.
