Forty-nine Years On

I attended another reunion yesterday: that of our flying training course from 1976 at RAF Linton-on-Ouse.  There were only seven of us from an original fourteen.  Of those who were not there, two died (long ago) and one is in a home with severe dementia.  We could not find most of the others, despite efforts over several months.

It was very enjoyable; there were no serious arguments and each of us had interesting times to relate, which we (almost) managed to get through at some stage.

The Royal Air Force Club (of which I'm no longer a member, unable to justify the expense when we rarely get to London) did a fantastic job with great service and excellent dishes.  It was a success, organised by the two gentlemen to the left of me (I'm in the middle).

In the Extras: a formation of Jet Provost Mk5A, the aircraft that we flew on the second part of the course; and our photo after the Wings parade at the end of the second course, when we were presented with our pilot badges.

I'm not convinced that I'd do it again, given the high cost of staying in London etc . . ., but it was worth the effort and expense this time, at least.