Happens to the best Centaurus. On a cross country instrument nav trip as a student we had parked at the finger of a major airport to refuel. Cranking up for departure with muggins in the back seat under the hood and Sir in the front trying to breath life into Mr Wrights finest. Much cranking and nothing happening, pax in the lounge starting to take interest, muggins looks down to see the mags off. What to do? Sir is not in good humour today anyway, does muggins reach down and quietly flip them on, or what, the battery is beginning to display a measure of lethargy? Decisions, decisions. At this point Sir realises problem, turns them on and off we go.