1961 The Britannia ................


This was Mitchell's first flight (unless the stork story is to be believed). We were off to Singapore, off into the unknown.
Not long before, the British government had stopped using troop ships to carry men to and from the far corners of the Empire. British United Airways had the contract for getting us there. A pity in some ways, the troop ship gave you time to get a tan and adjust to the climate changes etc. We flew from Standstead Airport in Essex. Stanstead was about to become London's "third" airport after Heathrow and Gatwick.

The trip of about 12,000 miles, took 23 hrs (is that right? eek!). Calling at Istambul and Calcutta on the way for fuel and servicing. I'd call it a rough and tough trip. No doubt every seat full, many children and ever worsening jet-lag. Soldiers, airmen, wives and kids. Close your eyes and picture the scene as everyone gets more and more tired!

Memories? We saw the Alps at nighttime. I remember flying over desert. The toilets at Istanbul were a clear indication that Turkey is where East meets West. Half were "European", the other half had 'footprint depressions' in the floor and a hole in that same floor for, well, for 'using'. So began a general eye opening for our hero.

I was airsick on approach to Calcutta and died the the traditional thousand deaths for the third leg to Singapore. Calcutta was wickedly hot and humid and still dark.

We landed at Paya Lebar airport in Singapore in the morning, with the smell of rotting vegetation. The smell of Singapore. And that was it, we were there for two and a half years. Another Britannia would take us home in 1963 .................

The 'plane. The Bristol Britannia, the 'Whispering Giant' was the nickname they soon acquired. With four Bristol 'Proteus' turboprops she was perhaps the peak of turboprop development. Soon overtaken by the rapidly gathering success of the pure jets. It was to be Bristol Aircraft's last hurrah ..... they really were lovely machines.

Forgive me, I'm just interjecting here .....................................

Adding this as a sort of a "WHY" this blog is being written at all. Then back to the aeroplane saga. It's a copy of an e-mail to Mitchell:


Delighted to hear that you read my blog. (I'll never be happy with that word - it's so teenie-weenie-nerdysomehow). Better than that: you look at it regularly.

I'm a compulsive writer. I've kept a daily journal since March 1977. I keep one on a journey. I have an unfinished (almost unstarted) novel. I write doubtfulshort stories. I wrote to Rena for 20 years. Now thisblog.

I write because I enjoy it but almost seem driven to do it.Since the arrival of the PC and the word processor I've been able to write neatly and be able to edit and polish and produce near perfect stuff (well, perfect to look at - the content may still be shy of perfect).

But a writer does like to be read. Vivian claims to enjoy my blog but she's a slightly captive audience. It's being written because .............?

Why? There seem to be many foggy reasons. The family tree kick I was on for long enough gave me a sense of history I think - both "wide" and "narrow" history. By"wide" I mean history in the usual human history sense. "Narrow" history is my family history. It's not just about ME it's about the ordinary people who went before and who are coming after. I wish those; now all but lost to us, had left record of themsleves. A few photos, barely a single written word survive. Almost all the anecdotes and scandals and little snippets are in my head .... I've become the sole custodian.

When my mother died a few years ago she left me as the patriarch dammit! I have a handful of photos of our forebears and half of them are mysteries, only my mother could have said who they were ... and she's gone.

I'm almost into the ramble mode here. I was trying to state the "why" of the blog. I'm trying to tell my tale before it's too late. Trying to tell all the tales before it's too late. My grandparents, my parents stories ..... the few storiesthey told to me ..... my own experiences ..... the early years of my two sons which, to a certain extent, I rememeber better than they.

Sounds an awful job. But it's not, because I love writing. So it's a labour of love really. Better even than building model trains, some might say. A house fire can take the diaries and photos in a few moments. A computer crash somewhere can take the blog I imagine. Material "stuff" is so easily swept away.

So ................. the news that you are reading my accounts came as a real burst of sunlight. The writer does need to be read. The writing is a joy but we all have an element of 'show and tell' in our makeup I think.

The "blog"? Well I've learnt to add pictures. I hope my technique and style will continue to improve. I'll be gentle with the "characters" in the story. There's a huge cast of people when you think about it. And it's a huge canvas and I try to keep in mind that I'm only one brush stroke thereon.

*********************************************

The above written in response to this from Mitchell:

--- idgit1@globetrotter.net wrote: Your Blog.......I check the site out at least three times a week to see what you have written, I throroughly enjoy them, and granted some things I remember, some not, simply because they are before my time, but it does, as you say, serve as a little insight into what life was like at that moment, Martin,Sherri and I are of the age to appreciate it.. His and mine and no doubt hers are not there yet......they are still, dare I say it, too young to appreciate it....but I truly and sincerely hope that you continue, they may not show too much interest now, but they will, just like I did and do.......(and yes I do look to see what "lies" you have written about me (so far so good)!

1955 to date. My Tales of Being Flown .......................



1955 The Anson .....................
Refer back to my blog of Oct or Nov 2006 about my first ever flight for picture and 'story'.


1955 The Auster ....................

We can forget the Anson and my first flight. That little tale has been told way back in the blog of sometime in Oct or Nov 2006. The picture here is "near enough" the Auster T8 that I seem to remember. The occasion? I was away to my only summer camp in the Air Training Corps. Probably 1955. The place, RAF Hucknall in Nottinghamshire. The event is now a confused jumble of memories.

We cadets travelled there by train. I remember being worried at the prospect of initiation ceremonies that in fact never happened. I was fifteen or sixteen and met my first girl. She was called June and was very beautiful, or so my memory tells me. Maybe I kissed my first girl too, back then - my memory won't tell me either way. I certainly didn't get any more than a kiss or I'm sure my memory would confive that. Surprised were weren't bounced by the local lads as we poached their patch in our blue uniforms. Nottingham then had the odd distinction of have a higher female than male population, so maybe out 'conquests' were easier than we imagined. The Auster T8 was a dual-control, trainer version of the Auster AOP 6 in case you were wondering.

1957 Chipmunk .......................

After the Air Force had turned me into an aircraft mechanic they posted me to RAF West Malling in Kent. On the day of my arrival somebody asked me if I fancied walking down to the visiting University Air Squadron to see if we could get a flight. I went, and got a flight. We flew out over the English Channel and I got a glimpse of France. "Ever done a loop?" asked the pilot from the front cockpit. I said I hadn't ... so we did, we looped, and I nearly lost my lunch. My "adventures" at West Malling will follow in due course.

The Chipmunk, de Havilland Canada's first design. A classic machine. 700+ were built. Two seat, tandem trainer. Much loved by pilots. Note the 'standard' DH eliptical fin/rudder.

1955 - to date: In What I've Flewed ...............

Anson, Auster, Chipmunk, Britannia, Whirlwind 10, Devon, Beverley, Twin Pioneer, Hastings, B707, DC9, DC8 (3 sorts), L1011, VC10, B727, B737, B747, B767, Airbus 310, Airbus 340, Dash 8, BAe146.

Twenty-two that I can think of. Each perhaps merits a story. Some because of the aircraft, others because of where I was going.

Strange, my stepfather was born in 1901, two years before anyone had flown at all.

Five family members (Andrea, my father and mother, Rocky and I) were in the RAF in one way or another for a total of nearly 40 years.

Aviation was perhaps 90 years old when I left it and I saw almost 40 years of that, first hand.

So, helpless audience of mine, I'll tell a tale of each of those 22 machines. It won't be too boring I hope.

2006 Looking back ...........

Downstairs, mostly in the 'trainroom', are numerous knick-knacks which essentially form a little museum of Cliffish memorabilia. I thought maybe I'd work through them here. Each item has its own little story.

This blog allows editing of the entries so it will be easy to add to the list as time and mood dictate, watch this space! Without further ado ....................


1. The "Rolls Royce" plate. Heavy and heavily chromed and somehow typical of Rolls Royce' love of high quality. I removed it from a R.R. 'Tyne' engine cowling of a Vickers "Vanguard" as these aircraft were being taken out of Air Canada service in the early seventies (in the 20th century folks!). Forgivable vandalism I think. Notice the letters are black, 'tis said that the colour was changed from red, way back when Mr. Rolls, or was it Mr. Royce, died? On the back of the plate: 917, the aircraft's Air Canada fleet number. As time passes this item should become a valuable "collector's piece".

2. The 'sheath' knife. Aquired in Singapore in 1962, this is a pilot's dinghy knife. I made its sheath to replace the 'unsuitable' original. A pilot wore one of these strapped, inverted, on his thigh. Its prime purpose was to allow him to puncture his dinghy should it inflate accidently in the cockpit during flight. Remember, he was sat on it. Not much room to share with an inflated dinghy in the cockpit! Very much a life or death crisis. Also something of a survival 'tool'.
I wore it while sailing. Possessed of a creative imagination I perhaps saw it as useful for cutting myself free of ropes during a capsize or maybe fighting off sharks or hostile natives. None of these three crises befell me (yet).

3. The feeler gauges. (a set of flexible blades housed in a yellow plastic 'cover'. For measuring gaps) This set must date back to 1964. Bought basically for gapping the spark plugs on the Mini, when people did such things for themselves. They've followed me all this time and still get the occcasional use while I'm building model locos.

4. The AA badge. No, that's not Alchoholics Anonymous! The badge is of the Automobile Association to which I never belonged. (Our English Mini bore the badge of the R.A.C., the Royal Automobile Club). All of which means nought to my non-English readers.
It, the badge, came from the garden shed at 8 Roman Way where we lived for that year in England. Its real origin, unknown. Whether it was once Rocky's or not I don't know. The 0N63941 stamped thereon is likely a membership number. I wrote to the AA about the age etc. of the badge, it is quite an old one, but received no reply as yet. So it's really: "just a nice souvenir of olde England."

5. The medal. Yes folks I got a medal! The G.S.M. or General Service Medal. Awarded for being in a combat zone for 24 hrs or more. Not very grand or very brave I fear. The GSM has been around for a very long time. I think it dates to the American War of Independance (awarded to loyal British soldiers of course, not them damned rebels!). It has been in continuous "use" ever since. A glorious, or sad, tribute to the fact that the British have been in a continuous state of war "somewhere or other" for ALL that very long time. It's Afghanistan and Iraq as I write ... strange it must have been awarded by the hundreds in an earlier Afghan war, long, long ago.
This particular one was awarded to:
3524344 Cpl. Tech. D. Batten R.A.F. ... so it says around the rim. The clasp is for Brunei which makes it rather rare. Awarded for the period Dec 8 - Dec 23 1962. After that, the GSM 1918
http://www.northeastmedals.co.uk/britishguide/general_service_1918.htm
was changed to the GSM 1962 and the clasp changed too, to "North Borneo" I think. Relatively few Brunei clasps were awarded and it seems that my 1918 GSM was one of the last ever awarded!
I'll relate the glorious saga of 'my war in Labuan' on these pages soon I hope.
Both my mother and father had two service medals for WW2. These four little heirlooms have got scattered throught the family ..... silly me.

6. A hacksaw and centre punch. These two tools, still in use, take me back a long way.
Apprenticed to Hawker Aircraft Ltd. at Canbury Park Road, Kingston, near London I was required to get tools for my forthcoming career. The year? Late 1955 or 1956 ... ouch!
The Kingston factory was a small part of Hawkers where once they had made Sopwith Pups and Camels of World War 1 fame. 'Pop' Foster was my instructor and I think he did remember Sopwith Pups. Small and bald headed with a Woodbine cigarette perpetually poking from under his yellowed moustache he was a tyrant. He'd look scathingly at your latest effort at tool-making and declare, "My old lady could do better!". Hawkers still worked a long week that included Saturday mornings and fabricated and machined small parts for the then modern "Hunter" jet fighter.
Soon enough I moved on to Richmond and the 'drawing office' phase of my apprenticeship. And just as things were beginning to 'work out', my mother and stepfather moved to Southend-on-Sea. My start in aviation was ended for the moment.
But, the "Eclipse" saw and punch (stamped "D.B."), surely my first "adult" aquisitions, soldier on.