A couple of years ago, some of our group took advantage of the fact that one of our number is a commercial pilot… and we hired a 6 seater plane to be flown by the erstwhile, Captain Pud… Great idea… Leave early Blighty Friday 08.00, get to Maison Blanche Noon… On the way back, get onto the bus at the corner of the airfield, where you’re taken to your plane… home and in the bath by 20.00 Sunday… Unfortunately, I am most definitely not the worlds greatest flier… I tolerate it, but hate it… and believe me if you’re not a great flier… small plane, big sky, long way down… it’s bloody horrible…
Anyway, having had a quick spin up with Captain Pud earlier that year to test my resolve, I thought I’d be able to handle a couple of hours airborne in what was in my opinion, a flying Cortina… provided that I had a large number of stiffeners prior to getting on board and constant supply of ale en route….
All was going to plan… We’re up in the blue yonder, across the Channel having just looked down on the D-Day beaches, I was managing to keep a hold of my nerves… great…
However, the ale going in and the lack of Moto’s, Little Chefs, lay byes etc several thousand feet up was causing me a problem… Nothing for it but to p155 into an empty bottle and empty it out of the little window… which I did… It was a little unfortunate, however, that as it was being emptied out, some of the copious amounts exiting the bottle were blown against the door, which wasn’t exactly a great fit… resulting in a very fine spray of my very own special brew being blown into the back of our sky chariot… The lads in the back saw the funny side… eventually…
