Lancman, your name reminded me.
1. We were holding low level, and I mean low, over North Hykeham in the Lanc in turbulence. I was in the astro dome. The Lanc went down and I went up and the dome disappeared. I wandered up the front and tapped Dad Stanley on the shoulder. He turn round and saw my face covered in blood.
2. Dad was leading a mixed formation Spit, Lanc, Hurri as a three ship over Farnborough. It had been a kneepad brief and no practice. We flew so low over the hangar where the French Atlantic had gone in the day before that the Hurri almost joined it.
3. Rush trip for a display and no FE. I was instructed to balance the fuel. Back at base we were then asked to do a take off and circuit for TV csamneras. As we rolled we got a fuel low light. Moments later we got a second. Dad simply said switch the tanks. Only one cock was labelled and he had given me duff gen pre flight.
4. Worst, Dad was checking out the new staish, Mike D'Arcy. Dad taxied, lined up, took off, circuit, landed, taxied, lined up, and Mike D took the seat for the first time. Applied full power and we departed the runway just beyond the ORP, he gave a boot of rudder and after rejoining the concrete we departed the other side before snaking back and getting airborne. Finally, under control, we landed. The tyre were worn across the treads.