The Tiger Moth flight I had in the photos I posted earlier brought back particularly poignant memories. The flight was a present from my sons and there was a choice of location. The closest was Sheffield (about two and a half hours away), but I opted for Duxford, because I like the place and it was a better day out. There was no display, but the museum is a great day in itself.
It took some doing, with the first attempt aborted after driving three hours south to Newark before I got the message that strong crosswinds and low cloud had wiped the flight out (it was a lovely summer's day at home when we left and it still was when we got back). The rearranged date was a complete cancellation because of wet weather and on the third attempt we made it all the way to Duxford (250 miles each way) before increasing crosswind strength wiped out that one too. It was fourth time lucky.
The poignancy comes into it regarding my late father. When I was a lad he had a thing about two aircraft in particular, Tiger Moths and Hawker Hurricanes. Not for him the sleek grace of the top of the pops Spitfire. He liked Hurricanes. My first two aircraft models were a Keil Kraft rubber-powered balsa and tissue paper Tiger Moth (doped training yellow) and a Hurricane - both built by my dad, because I was too young, but they piqued my interest.
All those years later when I opened the envelope containing the details of the moth flight on my birthday, my thoughts immediately returned to my dad.
On the day of the flight, after the briefing and just as I was about to walk out to the moth, there was the roar of an engine overhead, and totally unexpected and out of the blue the plane in the photo below came in, flown by Carolyn Grace. I took the second photo from the moth cockpit as we were taxying out to the east end of the runway.
How I wished my old man could have been there to witness it.