Half way through my time in the RAF I had lost the required Juniority to be allowed to work on aircraft and was employed on fulltime duties moving pieces of paper sideways across a desk.
Was summonsed to deliver a briefing to a nearby Gp Capt (unusually for the rank he was actually rather quick witted). He always sat with his back to the window of his second floor office so as I delivered said brief I had a full view of the large sports field.
It was late spring and the groundsmen had just cut the grass, painted the 7-a-side goal thingies and laid them out at the side of the field to dry in the sun.
Back to the briefing - drone, drone, blah, blah. Suddenly loud clattering noise as a Mk 2 Wessex swoops across the sportsfield, heading for the Helo Pad. Grass blows every where and the goal thingies covered in wet, white paint are blown all over the place. I involuntarily exclaimed "What a mess!". Gp Capt looked behind him, understood why I had interrupted his briefing and said to me "Don't worry Bill, the goalposts allways move when the C-in-C comes back from London".
Last edited by SOSL; 30th Apr 2010 at 17:15.
Reason: Spelling & rubber fingers