RMA Caledonia

[Flatus Veteranus]

As a boy of eleven, accompanied by my mother and 13 year-old sister, I flew from Poole Harbour, Dorset to Rangoon, Burma (Myanmar)in the Short C (Empire) Class flying boat Caledonia. The flight was over the period 2-8 May 1940. Imperial had only just become BOAC.. .My memories of this journey are still quite vivid, but I have just stumbled in my archives over a letter written by my mother (long deceased!) within days of our arrival in Rangoon. This has filled in forgotten details of places and timings.. .I am contemplating posting an account of our journey on this board, because there cannot be too many people around now who flew the Imperial route and who can review the experience through the eyes of a retired aviator of the jet era. (On the other hand, many might wish the bloody old fart just to shut up - which I could quite understand!).. .It would be useful if someone knew of a site with a good picture of a C Class boat, to which I could link my piece. There is a picture of Caribou in the Feb issue of the Aeroplane; but my scanner is not up to reproducing it adequately. <img src="smile.gif" border="0">

[ 26 January 2002: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ]</p>

[tony draper]

Here you go Mr V.

<a href="http://users.chariot.net.au/~theburfs/empirepage2.html" target="_blank">http://users.chariot.net.au/~theburfs/empirepage2.html</a>

<a href="http://users.chariot.net.au/~theburfs/empireMAIN.html" target="_blank">http://users.chariot.net.au/~theburfs/empireMAIN.html</a>

The CD on the link below might be of interest to you Mr V.

<a href="http://www.archivebritain.com/imperial_airways.htm" target="_blank">http://www.archivebritain.com/imperial_airways.htm</a>

[ 26 January 2002: Message edited by: tony draper ]</p>

[BEagle]

I can just picture you in long grey flannel shorts (held up by 'snake belt'), school shirt and tie maintaining a stiff upper lip in the tropical heat whilst the bearers brought you cups of finest Darjeeling.... Any complaining was no doubt stifled by "Chin up, Tomkinson!" from mater!

The school atlas was full of pink areas of empire in those days, I guess!!

Only kidding, FV - please, please publish your story!!

[ 26 January 2002: Message edited by: BEagle ]</p>

[Tiger_mate]

Only kidding, FV - please, please publish your story!!

Here....Here.....

[Gainesy]

FV. .And your subsequent career, please?

[Flatus Veteranus]

Beagle – You almost nicked my act!. .. .Tony Draper – Thanks 1M for the super links. Ideal – I will order the CD. I believe that in 39/40 Caledonia was better known than Canopus and was regarded as the class flagship. I remember seeing the class referred to as the “Caledonias”.. .. .Gainsey. UAS (Tiger Moth/Chipmunk), FTS (Harvard), AFS (Meteor) ,CFS (Prentice/Harvard), AFS (Meteor QFI), 208 Sqn MEAF (Meteor F8/FR9), CFS staff (Provost T1, Hunter, Canberra), USA (T33 et al), UAS (Chipmunk QFI), V-Force (Vulcan B2), USAF (T-39 Sabreliner – a real “gents conveyance!). .. .I think I better do this saga in instalments to avoid giving the system (and the readership) indigestion. I will try cutting and pasting from Word. I find working off-line straight into Pprune a bit unreliable when you reconnect and press Submit. Sometimes it all disappears woof into cyberspace somewhere and presumably becomes “deathless prose”.. .. .Wed 1 May 40. .. .First, a little background. In May 40 the war was still what was later called “phoney”. The BEF was in France and the French army was dug in behind the infamous Maginot Line. The Germans invaded the Low Countries and France about a month after our journey. Imperial Airways had become BOAC on 1 Apr, but the culture and logos were still Imperial. The raison d’être of the Empire boats was the Empire Air Mail; for the same price as a UK internal letter, a letter could be sent anywhere on the map coloured red. The boats normally carried 3 tons of mail, and passengers were an expensive supercargo. There were only 15 (fully-reclining) seats, so the space was unbelievable by current standards. Imperial used to charge pretty well “what the traffic would bear” so fares were high, and the culture accordingly “élitist”. To retain the Royal Mail contract, Imperial had to beat the P&O boat, so the schedules were very relaxed (compared with the KLM DC2s). To maximise payloads, the sectors were short (17 from Poole to Rangoon, including 6 night stops), so the passengers and crew got to know each other well. Caledonia took us all the way to Rangoon, without any technical delay that I can remember. There was one crew change, at Alex. The war inevitably meant formidable immigration controls at many of these stops, so my mother had to traipse around embassies and consulates picking up visas for weeks before departure.. .. .Check-in was not just two hours before departure. We had to present ourselves at the Haven Hotel on the eve of departure for document inspection (a nerve-wracking ordeal for my mother in view of the massive wartime burden of exit visas, travel permits, currency restrictions etc etc) and for the weigh-in. I believe 100 kgs was the limit for a passenger and his baggage – you had to climb on the scales with your kit. My mother and sister had inevitably nicked most of my allowance, so my kit was mainly Kennedy’s Shortbread Eating Primer and other school books that Dad had insisted we take with us. Imperial then did us proud with drinkies and a good (for wartime UK) dinner, when we met our fellow passengers and some of the crew. The Haven was a pretty posh hotel (way above our normal pay-grade) so Mum made me wear my school Sunday suit (for the last time) and I then found out that I was to be the only male passenger! Without the benefit of the “hands-on” education that BEagle enjoyed at his clearly superior prep school, I confess I regarded the prospect as more of a bore than an opportunity. <img border="0" title="" alt="[Wink]" src="wink.gif" /> <img border="0" title="" alt="[Wink]" src="wink.gif" />. . . . <small>[ 19 March 2002, 14:08: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ]</small>

[BEagle]

'Hands-on education'? Well - we did have rather a honey of a matron (about 23-ish?) at my prep school; one day she put her hand..............

Sorry!

So you had to suffer Mr Kennedy's famously horrid book as well, eh FV?

Nowadays the " 's doin me 'ed i'n" kids of contemporary yoofcuwcha (that famous oxymoron) wouldn't have a clue what we're talking about! The joys of gerundive attraction, the subjunctive....etc etc!

[Flatus Veteranus]

Thurs 2 May 40

After breakfast we were taken in a high speed launch from a jetty near the Sandbanks chain ferry to Caledonia on her mooring off Parkstone. As I recall, Caledonia operated off moorings the whole way down the route and was never berthed at a pontoon. The launches used as passenger tenders were beautiful samples of the boatbuilder’s craft. Built of wood by the Power Boat Co. they used the planing hull-form pioneered by Scott-Payne, and were the forerunners of the RAF Air Sea Rescue launches, I believe. They used to go like rockets.

The forward entry port (see Tony Draper's link)was always used for boarding. Forward of the entry port were the mail room, the ladder to the flight deck (“bridge&#8221 <img src="wink.gif" border="0"> and, in the extreme bows, the hatchway from which the moorings were handled. On the bulkhead by the entry port I remember an engraved plaque commemorating Caledonia’s exploits pioneering transatlantic air mail. Opposite the entry port there was a galley (in which it was possible to cook – not just heat up - proper meals) and two loos (for only 12 passengers!), aft of which there was a cabin with three seats. The midships cabin had six seats on to starboard and none to port, making a space where passengers could stand and move around. The promenade deck windows were those immediately beneath the port flap in the image. Up a step and through a bulkhead to the after cabin with six seats. This was the smoking area, also the quietist part of the boat. My mother and sister, two other Memsahibs from Rangoon and a 15 year old Aussie girl booked all the way to Sydney, were seated here. I was allowed to occupy the seat by the window just aft of the emergency door (visible in the image) on the understanding that I gave up the seat to anyone who wanted to smoke. Right aft I believe our “not wanted on voyage” bags were stowed. Overnight bags were held in the mail room.

Getting off the blocks was more complicated than lighting the fires during push-back. Once the four Pegasi were fired up and warm, full-power checks were needed and these could not be done against chocks or brakes, so we went on a tour of Poole harbour while various rituals were performed. Each Pegasus was run up while we taxied around in circles with crash tenders and other high speed launches in attendance. Meanwhile the Steward had showed each of us how to use our seat-cushions as floats in an emergency , where was our nearest emergency exit, and ensured that our seat belts were secure. There was no PA sound system, seat-belt or no-smoking sign. All instructions were passed by the steward in person. Eventually all was ready, we lined up, and for the first time all four Pegasi opened up together. The surge of acceleration seemed incredible. The howl of the engines was gradually overcome by the rush of water,and the bow wave from the hull and port float almost obscured my view until suddenly, magically, she got up on the step and all went smooth except for a feather of spray. The float was no longer really in contact with the water. The water-hiss gradually faded until we were airborne – at about 1100 hrs. Climbout was sedate and we settled at about 2000ft, taking our departure from Old Harry and waving a fond farewell to our home at Swanage.

About 45 minutes later we were circling Jersey Airport and some Morse was being flashed at us by Aldis lamp. I expect that radio silence was in force and that this was our clearance into French airspace. Some time later we did the same thing over St Nazaire. We alighted on the Garonne near Bordeaux to refuel at what may have been a military seaplane facility, because we were taken for a launch -ride on the river while the aircraft was refuelled and were not allowed off the jetty where we landed to stretch our legs. During the next leg to Marseilles the weather started to make itself felt with the usual build-up over the Massif to port. We remained in contact, presumably because navigation depended mostly on map-reading, so turbulence was quite severe and air sickness arrived in the passenger cabins (of course I maintained my superior male immunity!). The noise, I remember , was obtrusive even in the rear compartment.

We landed at Marseilles (probably on the Étang de Berre off Marignane) at 1745. Immigration formalities were tedious and there was a long bus ride into town over rough pavé (cobbles) with a maniac driver, whose style was to steer with one hand ,elbow on the horn, and gesticulate with the other. We arrived at the Hotel Splendide at about 2000 hrs. To me it seemed vast and sumptuous, and the dinner prolonged and exotic. Mum said the Duke of Kent was staying in the hotel. We went for a walk and it was good to see the bright lights after the blackout in UK. . . <img src="smile.gif" border="0"> <img src="smile.gif" border="0">

[ 30 January 2002: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ]

[ 30 January 2002: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ]

[ 30 January 2002: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ]</p>

[Flatus Veteranus]

Fri 3 May

We were called at 0545 and, after more prolonged immigration & customs formalities, we were airborne at 0800. Breakfast (cereals, omelettes and bacon, rolls and marmalade) had been brought from the hotel in thermos containers – just as well because the turbulence would have made cooking a real problem on this leg. Despite the weather we saw a bit of Corsica and Monte Cristo and landed on Lake Bracciano, about 20 miles from Rome. My mother remarked that the lake was “so pretty, with an old town on a hill behind the landing stage”. My memories are that we were closely escorted by a surly bunch of armed sentries and that the atmosphere was hostile. I believe we were the last BOAC flight through Rome before Italy declared war. The weather was the excuse, but I recall from crew gossip that it was the atmosphere at Rome that decided the captain to overfly Brindisi, our next scheduled stop, and press on to Corfu. Out of L. Bracciano we climbed to 15,000 ft to avoid the worst of the turbulence. Being unpressurised we were made to lie back in our fully-reclining seats and blankets were issued, the C Class heating being rudimentary. We descended to contact again over the Adriatic and I remember the spectacular approach through the straits to Corfu, with weather and high ground all around us. The turbulence was quite vicious and the sight and smell of vomit all round drove me to the promenade deck where I hung onto the rail like grim death until the steward sent me back to my seat with a flea in my ear. We only touched at Corfu for 20 mins and then battled on through the Ionian islands and up the Gulf of Corinth. By now some of the passengers were becoming quite exhausted with airsickness and I felt sorry for my sister, which probably did nothing to help her. The weather cleared for our landing at Piraeus and the captain did a wide circuit over the historic sites. It was a mystery to us how the Captain got ashore and to the hotel; he never shared the launch and bus with the passengers and crew members. Imperial Captains were God-like creatures and I presume he walked ashore. We stayed at the Hotel Grande Bretagne, of course, in Constitution Square – as much of a legend in those days.as Raffles and Shepherds. Mum says “we strolled out and saw the university. The garden squares were floodlit for a flower show and the shops were full of gorgeous flowers.”

Saturday 4 May

We were called at 0600 and taken sight-seeing to the Acropolis and the Temple of Minerva and Jupiter. I remember it was a glorious sunny Spring morning and when we took off at 0900 the air was smooth and vis unlimited. We touched down briefly at Mirabella Bay, Crete, but I do not remember being taken aboard the company yacht Imperia, which was anchored there to service the boats. My whingeing bore fruit, however, and I was invited to the “bridge”and shown the tits & clocks by the First Officer (the Captain was far too “Imperial” to bother with boys). I was told that passengers were NEVER allowed on the bridge in flight. The field of view from the pilots’ seats was fantastic. We landed in Alexandria Harbour at about 1500 (a hell of a days’ flying!) “amid the English and French fleets” (Mum) and had to stay at a rather squalid hotel because the Navy had taken over the Cecil. My mother had friends in town who picked us up and took us for a drive into the delta. According to Frater ‘s “Beyond the Blue Horizon”(written in the '80s with access to Imperial and BOAC archives) it was quite common for the passenger bus in the morning to have to make a round of the red light district to pick up male passengers who had never made it back to the Cecil. And in another book on the era it was mentioned that, approaching Alex, the steward would discreetly take bookings for one of the more notorious “night clubs”. The company’s clientèle was mainly senior officials, judges, generals, business men (box-wallahs!) and their Memsahibs – too blimpish, one might think, to sign up for that sort of live show. Evidently the camaraderie engendered by the journey relaxed their inhibitions and they were quite unembarassed by the “exhibeeeshes”. I was sheltered from any such rite of passage. My mother notes that a Turkish thrash kept us awake until we were called at 0500.

[DOC.400]

Thankyou FV, this is fascinating -can't wait for the next instalment!!

THOSE were the days.........

DOC

[Amazon man]

This is excellent reading you should write a book.

For all my time in aviation I shall always regret that I wasn't around during the flying boat era surely one of the best and most interesting.

I look forward to the next instalment.

PS If your interested there is a Sandrindham built in 1943 as a Sunderland and converted in 1947 in the Southampton hall of aviation.. .They also allow visits inside so to those of us who missed this era can get a small taste of what its like.

[Flatus Veteranus]

Sunday 5 May

Airborne at 0615, we entered what was then “Palestine” (coloured red on the map) at the oil pipe terminal at Haifa. I asked the new Captain why we were heading so far North , and he said something about picking up a passenger, but the Tiberias stop was probably for the saving of the souls of those who had had a good run ashore at Alex. We alighted on the Sea of Galilee, where the altimeter must have looked odd if QNH was set as the surface was 640 ft below sea level. We were not invited ashore but I was dispatched to the entry port to fill a bottle with the water, which my mother thought might have some curative properties for air sickness. My mother points out that the Roman Tiberias, where Peter walked on the water, was by then well under the Sea. (I vouch not for her history nor her geography!). On down the pipeline to Lake Habbaniyah, outside Baghdad, which my mother logs as a refueling stop, although I do not recall it at all. (The RAF station, visited in the 50s, was beautiful, but the lake was entirely forgettable). By now we were cruising I suppose between 5,000 and 10,000 ft to escape the low level turbulence over the desert. It was quite cool and passengers were in tropical kit, so blankets were issued. Map-reading may have been a problem because of the 4/8 cloud cover, but there was a DF loop which presumably Mr Marconi was working. I believe the WOP was a Marconi’s employee on secondment to Imperial. Our landing on the Shat at Basra was at 1630 and it was extremely hot, humid and oppressive. There was often a long time between alighting and picking up a mooring, when the entry port could be opened, and the interior heated up during this period. Mum hired a taxi and took us for a ride down town. Not a very distinguished city, but the (then new) airport hotel was superb with large and air conditioned rooms – a novelty!. We were also able to get some dhobi done overnight – which was becoming urgent.

Monday 6 May

We were called at 0300 and this was the only time, I believe, when we used a flare path of kerosene goosenecks mounted on floats. I imagine the guard launches had quite a time keeping dhows, driftwood and dead camels off the fairway; such problems were never mentioned to us by the crew, although the “new” captain delighted in winding up my sister by pointing where and how previous Imperial aircraft had come to grief. “ My old friend Capt Bloggins forgot to lower his flaps at (****) a few years ago and somersaulted. Nobody was drowned, though”. “One of the old HP42 Hannibals disappeared somewhere along here in (****). They think the wings must have got tired and fallen off”. From then on my sister’s eyes were riveted to the wings when it got a bit bumpy, and she used to wait in agony until the flap motors started to whine on approaches. Refueling was done at the mooring from tanker barges and the passengers were invariably taken off during this operation – either ashore, or for a ride in a high speed launch. At Bahrein, Shell (or whoever) really played a blinder and over-filled us. The excess arrived in the forward mail compartment and the whole aircraft stank of Avgas. The rear door by my seat was opened to help clear the fumes which, combined with the heat, helped to settle no passenger’s tummy. The next stop was Dubai. We did not see the old Imperial fort at Sharjah, where we would have slept if we had night-stopped, but the Imperial Agent still lived there. My mother says that “two Arab guards festooned with cartridge belts showed us their inlaid silver daggers, demonstrating how they were used by passing their fingers across their throats. They then took (my sister) and Mike to see a dead camel!” Anything to keep the young amused. The Baluchistan coast was “bleak and desolate”, says my mother “ a country of deep ravines and dried hills”. We landed at Karachi at 1630, and “were put up at a rotten old-fashioned bungalow hotel. We drove out on a long barren road to the sea view, but it was so dirty we did not stay long”. I think it was at this point I first experienced Gyppy tum – possibly from drinking Galilee water!. <img src="frown.gif" border="0">

[ 01 February 2002: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ] I suppose it was "Delhi Belly" <img src="eek.gif" border="0">

[ 01 February 2002: Message edited by: Flatus Veteranus ]</p>

[BEagle]

This is a brilliant thread! Many thanks for your fascinating account of how it was in those days. I'm editing and pasting your posts into a single Word document - such memories should never be allowed to fade!

PS - But when did you get time to study the second declension, or to study verb conjugation courtesy of that horrid little work of Mr Kennedy?

[spekesoftly]

Just like to add my thanks FV, for a really enjoyable read, looking forward to some more <img src="smile.gif" border="0">

[bonajet]

Thanks FV - most enjoyable. Was Jiwani in Baluchistan used for the flying boat service?

[Flatus Veteranus]

Tues 7 May

I have been trying to identify, from Frater’s book, the hotel where we stayed in Karachi. KLM used the Midway (so-called because it was half way between Amsterdam and Batavia) for their cannon-ball service in land planes. For most of the ‘30s Imperial used land planes on the Indian sectors and they evidently used the Killarney Hotel (or “rest house&#8221 <img src="wink.gif" border="0"> and it was probably the Killarney about which Mum was so scathing. Frater says that most people thought that Karachi, the “Gateway” to India before partition, was a pretty dull place. Agreed. Imperial’s next stop Eastbound for land planes was Jodhpur in Rajasthan; in Caledonia we refueled at Lake Jisaman, which I have not been able to locate in my Atlases, and then at another lake near Gwalior, both of which were hot and “uninteresting”. I have to tread carefully because there are still plenty of old Sunderland hands around, but the landing technique in the boats seemed rather different from large jets. It was not a good idea, evidently, to commit oneself by chopping the power before touchdown. Over calm and translucent water (such as Mirabella Bay) judgement of height could be tricky, and to stall the boat on was disastrous. There was usually masses of “runway ahead” so some power would be maintained until touch–down “on the step”, and then the throttles would be eased to idle. The drag, when the boat settled down “off the step”, slowed her quickly. Of course, we had no reversing props. The next stop was Allahabad, where we flew over the fort and the Maharajah’s palace before landing on “a sandy river just outside the town” – presumably the Ganges. We alighted on the Hooghly River , Calcutta at 1700 – nearly 12 hours out of Karachi. The river was filthy and turbulent and the bus ride down town , an eye-opener for an English school boy, was through narrow streets which seemed to double as open sewers, teeming with people living in abject poverty. Diseased and misshapen beggars clamoured for attention. The Great Eastern Hotel, in its heyday, was magnificent and worthy of the “second city of the Empire”. Mum records “a nice room and a lovely dinner”, but I remember an awe-inspiring room and “en-suite” with bearers chasing around after me, and then a fabulous curry dinner, which turned me into an addict for life. It was in the Great Eastern, during the “Indian Mutiny” that the British Community mustered a force of armed vigilantes to defend themselves against the “blood-crazed sepoys”. Mum took us for a short stroll to see the site of the infamous “Black Hole”.

Wed 8 May

We left Calcutta at 0615 and headed out across the Ganges delta to pick up the coast of Arakan. In May the Monsoon begins to build up in the Bay of Bengal and there can be some very nasty cunim around the Arakan Yoma. The turbulence was quite severe, but most of the passengers seem to have become inured. Caledonia was twisting and turning to avoid the worst of the storms. Akyab sometimes had to be missed due to the weather, but we touched down in the harbour by the island at 0930. Mum records that she was able to see her old house from the air, and that she knew the Imperial agent well. Dad had been District Judge at Akyab for several years in the ‘30s, when the airstrip had been a staging post for many of the pioneer flyers. He had helped dig some of them out of the mud and was none too complimentary about some of their planning and preparation. One young lady was navigating from a school atlas and Dad managed to find her some decent maps from somewhere. The final stage into Rangoon was marked by some even more exciting cunim-dodging. I believe we approached Rangoon from the West, across the Irrawaddy delta and then made a circuit of the city to show the passengers the famous golden Shwe Dagon pagoda, before touching down on the brown Rangoon River at midday. The few of us leaving the flight bade our farewells to the remaining passengers (my sister and the Aussie girl had become firm friends) and the steward, who had been unfailingly polite and helpful, and were ferried ashore to the Customs jetty. Dad (whom I had not seen since his home leave in ’37) had been waiting for us for some time, with an anxious eye on the weather. Rangoon was stinking hot and oppressive and remained so for a few days until the rains broke. Before we left the customs house I saw Caledonia take off on her next stage to Bangkok, and I felt a pang as daylight appeared between her keel and the river. She was indeed a graceful craft. <img src="smile.gif" border="0">

[Flatus Veteranus]

Retrospective

I was never bored during the journey; I did not even finish the latest “Biggles” that my mother had saved for me. There was nearly always something to see from the heights at which we were flying. The downside was the turbulence and the consequent air sickness. Present day travellers would also have missed decent heating and air conditioning . Without doubt, the “Empire” boats were noisy., but there was no risk whatever of catching DVT. Fifteen months later, when Dad was due another spell of leave, we flew on to Sydney on the KLM DC2 service, which was fast and efficient but not nearly so stylish as the boats. Twenty years later, en route to the USA, my schedule demanded that the RAF movers put me on the BOAC “Monarch” Stratocruiser service. This was magnificent and very comfortable with a huge seat-pitch and free bar “down below” after a slap-up dinner at Shannon. But the 11 hour night crossing to JFK was a complete bore. If you had the time, there was nothing to beat “the boats"!

<img src="cool.gif" border="0"> ENDEX <img src="cool.gif" border="0">

[Mycroft]

I suggest you contact Southampton Hall of Aviation <a href="http://www.spitfireonline.co.uk/" target="_blank">http://www.spitfireonline.co.uk/</a> as they have a Short Sandringham (converted Sunderland and thus cousin of C class), and may be interested in publishing your account, even though by the time of your flight the usual BOAC facilities (at Calshot) had been taken over by the RAF.

[Flatus Veteranus]

DOC.400, Speaksoftly, Thanks. I am glad you enjoyed it.

Amazon Man, Mycroft. I will certainly take a look at the Sandringham next time I am over Southampton way. I presume that the BOAc operation stayed at Poole for the rest of the war because when my parents finally came home in '47, after Burma became independent, they flew in either a Sandringham or a Solent and landed at Poole. Mum says it was just as noisy as the Caledonia, less room per passenger, and flew much longer stages (Karachi/Baghrein/Cairo/Poole?)

Bonajet, I can find no mention of the boats stopping anywhere between Dubai and Karachi. The HP42s stopped at Gwadar.

BEagle. I was allowed about a week's "acclimatisation" in Rangoon and then suddenly one morning out came the Kennedy and North & Hillard horrors and the relationship between me and Dad, which we had been trying to rebuild, nosedived. My sister and I proved to be the first of many Brit children who arrived from UK over the next few months, and Presto! the Brit community got their act together and established an excellent day school covering the whole curriculum from primary to Matric. And none of us died of tropical diseases, which had been the excuse for sending us home at age 5! However, when Dad took leave in '41 we went down to NZ where we were put to boarding schools and I got my a**e kicked into shape again! Happy days! <img src="smile.gif" border="0"> <img src="smile.gif" border="0">

[tony draper]

First class Mr V.. .Thank you.