The story of the Canberra at the last chance saloon reminds me of the day a talk-down controller saved my bacon, and my reputation as an instrument pilot. Six T17s on exercise over the SW Approaches in and we heard Shackletons being diverted to Gibraltar as whole of the UK went out in fog. Boss decided to call it a day on the exercise and we headed for St Mawgan. Boss called the order for descent - me last and I am the only White Card. Everyone goes down the slope in turn and lands safely. I suddenly become acutely aware that one of the guys in the back is a very new Dad. We agreed one attempt, 100 ft minimum, and if we did not get in then I would fly over the airfield at 1000ft or so and they would bang out, I would then head the aeroplane out over the sea and follow them out. In the end I flew the best instrument approach I ever flew with a brilliant talk down controller and we saw the lights at 125 ft and just over half a mile. the boss bought my beer that night. So whoever that controller was - THANK YOU.