I just find it fascinating, in the true spirit of this Thread (albeit post-WW2), to find I have trodden in such notable footprints at that obscure (and long-forgotten) corner of Lincolnshire!
For me, it was simple. I drove from MY to SB at my own expense (CBA to wait for the bus at either end) as a Plt Off with a car (posh git) and signed on Watch. It was then a few hours of the usual ATCO blathering before going 'home' again. I'm not sure I ever really thought much about what the guys were actually doing ... they just gave me a job to do, and I got on with it!
I guess the sound and smell of Hercules engines couging into life, the twinking lights on the airfield (under My Total Control) and the Pundit blinking away on the north side in a disused horseshoe disperal had a certain charm. The best bit, when the last night-flyer' landed, was sequencing the switching off of the assorted airfield lights (through that monstrously latge and complex lighting console) and chasing them to dispersal. I only overtook the aircraft once, and was rather more careful after that!!
I always enjoyed Local more than any other control position. Yellow blips on a CRT are no substitute for seeing reality, even if on occasion it causes you to hit the Crash Alarm.
Last edited by MPN11; 20th Nov 2016 at 18:22.