I think it was at Topcliffe that we had Varsities that did the Maccrihanish Kipper run, and supported the V Force dispersals? Correct me if one of the Met men misremembers! The Squadron Leader was Tommy Tucker [marvellously couth and impeccably dressed], and two of the captains were among our last remaining Poles, universally known as Flt Lt ****slinger and M Pilot Smackyerarse, as near as anyone could get to their names, more like an optician's chart than a name.
It was at Topcliffe 1966-ish that I made a good stab at disorientating a JP captain from Leeming. I was on det. from Leeming, he landed at Topcliffe and subsequently rang Met. I forgot where I was, and said "duty forecaster Leeming" just as the book said I should. The captain recognised my voice, we had a laugh and a quick brief, and I put the phone down. An hour later he rang from Leeming and said it was not until he was in the cockpit that he realised where he was. Unusual case of disorientation.
One of my colleagues was Effing George, [known as such by all] famously foul-mouthed, with a five year old son going the same way who could shame a sailor with his invective. I never heard the like for range, inventiveness, and the sheer breathtaking ratio of cussing to normal language.
One observer, on solitary weekend night duty, was briefly arrested by the RAF plod [with dog] who took him for a tramp trespasser, wrapped as he was in a filthy raincoat and wearing a balaclava, dozing in the office crouched over a radiator.
Met. was so busy providing a bespoke service to each aircraft [those were the days of proper service] in the big small hours [0500 onwards] that we had a double-manned forecaster watch from 0600. This meant the 0500 man getting out of his scratcher around 0400 [nobody was on base] and the 0600 man an hour earlier. Not funny in winter, as I recall.