Squash and four cups reminds me:
We were out of Aden for Gan and inflight did us proud with nutty box eat packed with 'high altitude' bite size sarnies, just your usual fare of course, salmon, tuna and the like.
After we had all had our fill, the Boss asked for some squash. Again they had done use proud - 7-crew and 7 bottles of squash. I opened a bottle, poured the Boss a cup and passed it up -CONCENTRATED. It came back for dilution but of water not a drop. The Scampton aircraft knew to take water but from Coningsby this was news to us.
Next, back at Cottesmore we used to get the tiniest kiora style waxed squash made up in inflight. Ideal if you didn't want a pee in 5 hrs. Anyway someone's wife must have run a tuppaware party and all our inflight stuff was repacked in tuppaware: sandwiches in sealed boxes and large containers for the squash. We then had reuseable plastic tubing rather than disposable straws. Inserted in the lid of the container the whole was air tight. Right. By top of climb the cabin pressure reduced and the squash was then squirted over the plotter's chart.
The tuppaware didn't last long as attrition (theft) was pretty high.
Then on Nimrods, the usual trick was for the SAR jet to deploy to Prestwick if ISK winds were going out of limits. Duly deployed, crew settled in hotel and sitting down to lunch waiting their fillet steaks. Moments later they was scrambled. One HK dashes into the kitchen, grabs the pile of steak and off.
The Navy is left to collect their luggage and pay for room and board
Moving one some years to the Shack, airborne with the usually trunk for a 15 hour borex, water boiling as we left the circuit (same as other aircraft reaching top of climb) the galley slave looked for the cups - no cups. The duty rats man hadn't checked the trunk.
CM, using a bit of inspired logic, emptied a couple of tins to serve as cups. Once down to landing weight we departed our task area for, IIRC Leuchars, for a practice diversion and a request for a load of cups
Also Shacks, we deployed from ISL to our FOB at St Mawgan. Deployed by train. We set off from Aberdeen on the sleeper for the marathon journey and discovered a few minutes later that the train hadn't been provided with any milk. At an early stop the same CM gets out, legs it to the platform café, grabs a crate of milk and legs it back to the train saying "You're British Rail, sort it".