I remember when we just went low flying.... No planning for hours, booking in, fearing that if you stray 50 yards of track you will be in the poo, photocopying the route, filing in the paperwork in triplicate when you land.....Nah, we just went low.

We used to get issued 300 tabs a month as well - if you wanted them or not...

I was issued a pussers razor, shaving foam and 3 pair of underpants... Bizzare

And I also remember joining BRNC at the same time as 50 Iranian Naval Officers.... Wonder what they are doing now

Ahhh... You were SH then...

MT came in one colour (black) and had the radio removed - allegedly at extra expense to the MOD.
F1250s were blue.
CCS was GDT...
...and SNCOs attended it in 'Chiefy Combats' (DPM over blue shirt and jumper)!
IOT was 18 weeks...
...but half of every entry got recoursed.
98% of admin was done via the trusty pad of memo forms.
You could ring the exchange at RAF Little Snoring, ask for Fg Off Bloggs / SATCO / Bert in Clothing Stores and the operator knew who you meant and put you through to them!

SD said:

Yes yes yes!!!:D

Is there anything more annoying, than calling from a civvy line, and they insist on telling you the GPTN. In fact, its almost as annoying as them saying '.. uhhh, where does OC Ops work again?'.

£5 notes were large and white.

Ah yes, Memo Pads, Signal Pads, Typing Pools and no bl00dy computers. On the flip side there was Government Property toilet paper!

And running everything off on the roneo machine. Taking the ribbon off the typewriter, typing it onto the onion skins, filling in the mistakes with correcting fluid, then peeling off the back and putting it in. Then you had to ink it up and crank the handle. All those hundreds of sheets of slightly smudged text to be stapled together and then distributed. UROs, SRO etc etc.....

So much easier than type it in word, put in an email and click. Ahh! the good old days...... :rolleyes:

The NAAFI wagon.

When 1250s were white the first time round, before they went blue.

A SWO called Bernie who used to ride everywhere on his bike in his No1s.

A SWO called Bernie who, whilst tired and emotional, used to ride into the (locked) main gate heading outbound at midnight+ and demand to be let out.

Convincing the Americans at an airshow in Frankfurt in 1987 that our trusty Victor was Britain's answer to the 'Stealth Bomber'.

And finding those SROs and URO (and everything else that ORAC has printed off on his Roneo machine) hung up on a bulldog clip rather than spending hours hunting for it hidden in the depths of a computer - yep, the good old days :ok:

Trudging up to 230 OCU HQ to beg for a go on their photocopier, the only one at Scampton (which used pinkish thermofax paper)
Walking home in the rain in the hairy battledress and looking like a soggy mess of blotting paper when you got home
March in/out inspections when everything had to be gleaming (and the interior of the oven oiled - and God help the next occupant when they fired it up)
Great tins of yellow polish - floors, cleaning
Cups of tea brought in the morning by the batty

Life before death by Powerpoint.
Costas in the PS bar.
Jock's NAAFI wagon at Akrotiri "Hello c#nt!!"
Telling SIB that I liked peas and gravy when asked if I wanted to make a statement and receiving a kicking from a few of them.
BFG numberplates.
Pointless military branding exercises, like making 'stores', 'supply'.
Sweets General Service Issue Hard Boiled Coloured Various Suck or Chew.
Jankers and show parades thrice daily.
DCIs (Get wise to DCIs!).
Blue letters.
Honest assessments (alas).

The RN did that and we then changed the branch again to Logistics.... which reminds me...

Went into stores (Supply / Logistics) one day to get a new Navbag only to be told that I couldn't have one because there was only one left and someone may need it !!!!!!!!

When you could just drive onto a station and park by a building.

When the sqn used to close at 1200, everyone not flying went to the OM bar, then the sqn was re-opened at 1330.

'Crew rounds for a pound' in the scruffs' bar after night flying (5 x pints @ 20p per pint per round).

'Eggy-bakes' in the OM kitchen after the bar closed.

You only saw cabbage-kit on exercises.

'Rat pies' from the NAAFI wagon.

'Aircrew feeders'.

Batties giving you a wake up call and bringing a cuppa.

When 'NATO standard' meant 2 sugars.

'Wobbly' or 'Charlie' hangovers in BFG.

BFG!!

MT cars were slime green Vauxhalls

.. when MT cars were gloss blue Minis!

(waits for Austin 7 comparison.. :E)

..... 50 baud teleprinters , that I could just about plot from in real time. Except for the bars and pre-bars; I had a sadist for a boss who made us plot the damn things even though we got them on molfax.





(Sigh)

Jock became a member of that terrible football club.
You could order slugs for your airgun from Eagle
Sandy Richardson could walk
My mate pitched up on a parade without a tie.

You could bum a lift home for the weekend without having to a chitty.

You could get air cadets to polish the Lightings at Colt.

Navigators were taught to transfer a star shot from a bubble sextant position line "round the corner" on an air plot, whilst transiting at FL 100 over a dismal, dark and very windy UK at nearly 180kts ground speed.

RAFG NATO rules allowed anyone - Air Defenders, MudMovers, Recce pilots - to bounce ANY other jet you met in flight and have a good old punch-up without any prior arrangement or briefing.

The Sunday night film show overseas was in the open air with 16mm projectors. (Overseas means a hot climate, not RAFG)

Refusing to fly with a hangover was the action of a deadbeat and a no-hoper.

Write-ups on student pilots were Staff Eyes only, and you wrote the truth.

Pilots joined the Air Force for a Flying Career, not just an interlude before Airline flying.