Onan More likely at your age they were Handley Page Heralds which used to do the IOM route then.
Being born in Southport,Woodvale was also my 'first sightings' in the '50's.Seem to think there were Javelins based there.Couple that to both Mum's sisters were telephonists at A.V. Roe where I got invited to the Christmas parties.Shackletons being built in the hanger at Woodford and Father Christmas arriving in an Avro Anson.Oh and me Uncle Joe who flew in the RAF.:ok:

Finningley Airshows every year from the early 80s through to the early 90s. Also spending EVERY holiday in the 80s in a caravan on the hills above Llanbedr, with it's loony collection of aircraft - can't forget the Jindiviks!

Another major factor getting me interested was the occasional roar of a Vulcan overhead. Thoroughly inspiring stuff!

My father served for 35 years and I suppose that had something to do with it. But it started in earnest in 1952 when we were evacuated from Egypt (Due to the 'Troubles') on the SS Oransay and sent to RAF Transit Camp at Croft (Warrington) to await my father who had to continue with his tour at RAF Ismailia. Saturday morning at Croft was parade time for all the young National Service airmen awaiting their draft. I would stand on the dais next to the Group Captain and take the salute with him! On the odd occasion that I was late for the parade, the Stn Cdr would send his car to our hut, yes hut (MQ) and pick me up. Being very easily pleased I was hooked. I never looked for any other career. - Best decision I ever made, wonderful 25 years. The next best decision was leaving when I did in 1988 after many detachments and 4 overseas tours, Far East, Middle East, Near East and Germany. Happy days.

1952 - RAF Pendesford - now Halfpenny Green, Wolverhampton

Then an MU (graveyard) for ex wartime ac including Spits, Hurricanes, Defiants, Dragons etc etc.
Boulton Paul's factory was about half a mile down the road

I lived in a cottage 40 yards away, and a discrete hole in the fence gave me access to this magic playground

After school, I spent many hours inside these lovely machines

Biggest memory during that summer was when a big aeroplane passed very high over the cottage - my uncle said it was a Bristol Brabazon - I believed him, however, Beags might dispute it

Love many, Trust a few, Do what you have to do!

Lasernigel,

I also remember there being Vampires at Woodvale.. (don't recall Javelins - but I can't remember what I did yesterday either!)

Another image is of seeing a white painted Valiant landing there for a static at an airshow and later looking up into its huuge bomb bay (huge for a kid). Think Woodvale only had ~6ooo ft of runway (don't have a red book to hand)

sv

Father was in the RAF, more or less since it was invented, so I grew up wanting to follow in his footsteps. Only other interest was cricket, and not even Freddy Flintoff would have made much of a living at that in those days, so piloting it was. Most enjoyable, both RAF and civil, over 40 odd years.

Agree with Beags, once a fighter pilot always one, he was fast jet, I believe, I was slow jet! At least he still flies, my excitement comes nowadays from the occasional sortie on the old Fergie tractor whose capability to bounce even passing livestock is limited, and whose aerobatic qualities are non existent except by mistake!

Standing in Bromsberrow (Worcestershire) churchyard in about 1979 to 1980 (aged 5-6) looking up through the one gap in the trees when a Tonka blasted over. Course I didn't know it was a Tonka then, I found out afterwards. It was in the original grey/green paint job, you could see what I guess now was the old red and white 'hazard ejector seat' signs and I'm sure at least one of the crew had a white helmet on. Strange I know, especially as the mud crews didn't have white helmets. Maybe someone can shatter my earliest image for me?

There's also the fact that Worcestershire used to be such a hive of activity for jets that you would see at least 20 low level a day.

Those were the days!:ok:

Watching from the sidelines during this major aviation saga:

LINK

:D

Watching the Red’s at Duxford maybe 90/91, I would have been 5/6 years old. Was obsessed with fire engines up until then, but red jets with smoke looked like much more fun than red fire trucks with hoses! Then my first ever time airborne (including commercial flying) was an AEF trip from Wyton in 2000. Four years later I was sent solo in the same airframe as a wet behind the ears Acting Pilot Officer - awesome! :ok:

My father was and is an inspiration to me.

I remember gazing skyward at one of the many Airshows I attended during my youth and seeing a formation of Devons from 781 (?) Naval Air Squadron, and my Mum beaming at me saying that my father was "driving" one of them. I can't have been more than 6, but I remember thinking that nothing would stop me becoming a pilot.

I also vividly remember the RN display team the Sharks at an Airday at Lee-on-Solent, and being far more impressed than I was with the Reds, or indeed any other Jet display. Imagine my feelings when I went through on course on the same trusty Gazelles some 10 years later.

When I was 12 (ish) I went flying in a Chippie with my father, with no mic to speak to him and sat on a cushion of foam rather than a parachute. As we took off I was nearly paralysed with fear but that was nothing to how I felt when the canopy dropped open during an aborted stall turn, or how it took me about 2 minutes of wallowing around the sky with my dad waving his hands at me to work out that, what he had inaudibly said to me was "You have control". During the aeros (including a loop that I "flew" with a little help) I can honestly say I have never been so scared in all my life, not least by the alarming number of times the engine "stopped" when inverted. When we landed, the old man says (knowing full well I was terrified) "So, still want to be a pilot then?" and I think it was sheer bloody mindedness that made me grin and say yes.

Without him, I would never have made it - thanks Dad:ok:

I guess having a father who crewed a Whitley bomber in the second world war and a brother flying Vulcans, Canberras and Nimrods kinda nudged me into a growbag......albeit an Army one. Now all I can do is enjoy my memories.