Last week Nick, the farmer, was waiting to plough as I bounced down his stubble field and flew off in the Cub past St Donat's Castle, out over Nash Point light house and across the Bristol Channel. I was bound, due South, for Devon to pick up Tim, my kid brother and then on to Stoke St Mary Woods...
A book I will write, Mike, about the 'good old days'. When flying with you and Dad was free and easy. Now remind of some of those escapades. Shooting duck from the BA Swallow, landing the Auster on Snowdon for a week-end of rock-climbing with Jack Hampson, flying to Donegal in the Sipa 901 in...