I'm now pretty sure that the aircraft referred to in the root post was G-BFGC.
The club, Hamish Morris actually, bought three new Cessnas in the winter of 77/78. The 172 'GE was dinked in a silly prop-strike, but recovered. 'FY was damn nearly totalled when Hamish ran it out of fuel on a run to Glenrothes to buy fuel cheaper than Andy Bruce was willing to sell for. Tried to use a ploughed field for the forced landing, silly man, and put it on its back.
'GC was deleted from the CAA register in 1980 so that must have been the one that Hugh/John perished in. I've just had a look at the AAIB site, but can't find any report there.
Yup, Peter Gibb was the Glenforsa fella. He was known to have had business rivals and it was said that there were one or two jealous husbands who may have had ill intentions towards him so the mysterious circumstances of his crash fed all kinds of ideas. The post-mortem was quasi-inconclusive but presumed that hypothermia was the cause of death. No salt was found in his clothing and no sign of the aircraft on land. Later a wheel was found washed up on the shore a few miles away which was identified as being from the aircraft but that simply fed the wild stories as it seemed just a bit too convenient. Eventually some scoobydoo sport divers found the wreckage and it became clear that he simply flew it into the glassy water on right base in the dark.
Entirely concur that Hugh was wonderfully good company, with or without a dram in his hand. For part of the '70s I was flying in Nigeria and so we often jabbered in West African Pidgin to the bemusement of anyone who was unaware of Hugh's background in the West African logging trade. Yes, I also remember his prim and immaculately dressed new wife, Edie. He often horrified her by calling her Erotica in public.
The only chum from those days, and of his ilk, that I'm still pally with is Ian Hamilton. Another great character about whom I could tell many a tale, but shalln't lest the moderators sh1t bricks.
Yes, King Hussein was a frequent visitor to the clubhouse. My predecessor as Flying Convenor on the Committee was Jock Dalgleish who was an old flying buddy of HM King Hussein. Jock had saved the life of HM by flying what amounted to a one-sided dog-fight against a pair of Syrian MiGs in a Dove (or was it a Heron?). The King visited Edinburgh once or twice a year and always dropped by the clubhouse for a blether and to swap flying stories with all and sundry at the bar in a complete informal way. If he'd forgotten your name he had a disarming habit of addressing one as "Sir". The only time in my life I've ever been asked by a King "What would you like to drink, Sir?". An excellent fellow, and later with a charming new Queen who was naturally gracious and regal despite being an American. I seem to recall that she had an aviation background too, through a family connection with PanAm or somesuch.
He didn't learn to fly with us, but Jock had taught him and had illegally authed his first solo, by simply leaving the cockpit of the Dove with HM at the controls and telling him to get on with it and that he'd be in the bog until the aircraft had taxyed in.
Happy days. Sadly the Club had to dissolve itself last year in the face of extreme operational difficulties at what has become a shopping mall with a runway alongside.