B.A. or my Life?!.... The Second Chapter - Still waiting time!

Chapter Two.     Still waiting time!

I now found myself one early October Saturday morning, in a large grass field in Dunstable, near Luton airport in Bedfordshire. The cool stiff breeze blew across Dunstable Gliding Club, with the sun trying to shine at times, through the broken white and grey ragged clouds in the Autumnal sky.

So what was I doing there in these rural surroundings? After passing my 'O' Level exams, I decided to have a go at gliding, and experience the feeling and supposed freedom of unpowered flight. There was an adult education gliding evening class, starting at the beginning of September at the local college in Chiswick, and with a bit more spare time on my hands, and being just about old enough to enrol, I decided to give it a go.
I attended evening classes once a week, for a few weeks, with the lecturer being an elderly man who looked like he was at, or close to retirement age, but came across as being a very experienced glider pilot . Learning the basics of glider flying and airfield circuit patterns - the typical takeoff, crosswind leg, base leg, downwind, and finals pattern, until it could be drawn on paper by memory! and the typical airspeed and altitudes to be flown.

Then after a few weeks, my time came in October to actually go flying in a glider - just when the weather starts to get colder! Being young and foolish, I didn't think of wearing my warmest clothes; and I would certainly have needed them that day.
We met up at the pre-arranged place quite early in the morning, at Chiswick High Street by a pub, and I got a lift in a (I think it was a bronze coloured) Renault 5 hatch back car, taking the four of us expectantly up to Dunstable Gliding Club.

Unfortunately our driver smoked, so we had to suffer the odour of her Consulate cigarette smoke wisps and puffs (the ones that were advertised at the time on T.V. and posters, supposed to be as "Cool as a mountain stream"?!), winding their way around the inside of the car; destined to share the 'pleasure' around, of the smell of burnt leaves and paper! I thought that the smell of these fags, were more reminiscent of a 'cool' advertising image, of a murky chemical and rubbish, oil polluted stagnant water course, sluggishly flowing into an old industrial canal!!! I remember that I opened the side window a bit for a while, to get some fresh air, and let some of the tobacco smoke out, but had to close it after several complaints, that it was getting too cold inside the car! The ashtray conditions inside, had to be endured for the rest of the trip.
The typical route via the North Circular, up to North London and the M1 motorway was taken, and with moderate traffic on the roads, we arrived at the gliding field in good time. We pulled up into to the basic gravel covered car park, and with relief, I got out of the car into the clear morning air!

When we got there, there was some sun in the sky amidst the broken clouds sweeping past. I was feeling a bit cool as we walked past the agricultural barn looking low hangars, past some gliders pulled outside, and a couple of glider towing light aeroplanes parked up, waiting for a day's work. A steady wind blew in our faces, whilst walking across the short cropped grass towards our ancient looking instructor! and our practical tutorial experience. Our glider was resting near several others, rigged up and ready for flying. The first impressions were that it looked as old as our flying instructor!

With thanks to the quirks of the internet 
for finding this ancient advertising image!

Constructed mainly of stretched doped canvas and plywood, this was an orangey red coloured, high wing open cockpit Slingsby T.21 side by side two seater, with a British Gliding Association (BGA) registration painted on the tail in black. The glider wasn't really suitable for an air tow to get airborne, plus we couldn't afford the aircraft towing charges! so it had to be a ground tow, using a large diesel powered ground winch unit to get us up into the sky.
Our group of at least six of us, were then organised into a rota of duties to be done, during the glider flights. In what seemed to be quite a long day, I spent most of my time on Marshalling duties, helping push the heavy glider around the field to the take off area, recovering the tow winch cable, and signalling the tow winch operator to "Take up slack", off the tow winch cable, by waving a large round red and white sign on a pole, to and fro. We also took it in turns to connect the winch cable end to the glider tow hook, so to spread the safety responsibility amongst us!

                                                                   Thanks to Nimbus227 for the 
                                                                   Slingsby T.21 picture.

I did manage to get some spare time to have a chat with the other students, and watch the operations at the airfield; seeing both the yellow Piper Cub and the blue and white De Havilland Chipmunk go back and forth, towing the more sophisticated gliders into the air. The sonorous propeller sounds of these two piston engined aircraft, reverberated regularly around the glider field as they took off with a glider in tow, and landed again soon after, on their own.

Eventually it got to my turn, to have a flight in the antique glider aircraft, that I had spent so much time already pushing around in the grass! Clambering into the small cockpit with the instructor, we were both tightly strapped in the rather hard seats. The faint smell of paint and glue encompassed us, and I looked at the grey painted instrument panel with it's minimal array of elderly instruments, the spoiler operating lever, and the tow line release lever with the big red knob. Our turn was coming soon to take to the air, and the weather suitably obliged by clouding over almost completely!

The tow cable was connected, and the dual control joystick and rudder pedals were checked for correct movement. By us, the white and red round sign was waved overhead to signal a tow winch take off. At first, the movement was slow as the cable tightened on the ground, and we bounced along the grass on the single wheel and landing skid on the bottom of the fuselage, with one person on each side supporting the wing tips, as we gathered speed. Soon we found ourselves airborne climbing up rapidly, being pulled into the now gloomy sky by the steel tow winch cable. When the cable was almost vertical at about 700 feet, according to the vintage three pointer altimeter, I was told by the instructor to pull the red cable release knob. There was a "clunk" sound and the glider lurched a bit, as the cable fell quickly down to earth. 
The erratic reading ancient airspeed indicator was showing about a 'flickering pointer' 65 knots (nautical miles per hour), and the variometer for indicating vertical speed, was already indicating a steady rate of descent. There was also the 'luxury' of a turn and slip indicator as well, to show correctly co-ordinated flight. Not much hope of that, with me at the controls at the moment!



Thanks to rsw617 for the video clip, which shows a typical winch tow with a typical flight time in a T.21! And yes, it does deserve laughing at!

I was soon to find out that the vintage Slingsby with the aerodynamics of a brick, (if you throw a brick hard enough, it will appear to fly!) was struggling just a bit to stay level, especially in gusting winds! The instructor was endeavouring to show me how to keep the 'Brick's' nose up, level to the horizon. No chance of 'thermals' (uplifts of strong warm air currents) today to keep us aloft in the sky. There were a lot of sensory experiences and views to take in at the same time, and I was meant to be looking at the the wartime style flight compass, and following a compass heading, but I didn't have a clue! Things were happening really quickly now, and the 'Brick' wanted to follow gravity as quickly as possible, and return to the ground where it felt more at home! The circuit was rushed because of our low height, and I had very little time to get a feel of the controls. It was freezing up there in the cockpit! with the wind whistling around us, and the airframe. I did have just about enough time to see the patchwork shapes of verdant greens and autumnal colours of the Bedfordshire landscape stretch out into the distance all around us, with the horizon fading into the grey sky. We could see Luton airport not far away, and the occasional aircraft departing.

Within five minutes, the instructor had guided the 'Brick' onto the glider field approach, and my feet felt frozen, and I could hardly feel my toes in my training shoes resting on the 'twiching' rudder pedals. Being a glider, there was only one chance at landing, and no second go at it! The approach had to be correct.
Before long, we passed over the field perimeter at approximately 40 knots, which was the landing speed, with the spoilers deployed in the wings to rapidly reduce the lift produced by them, and we touched down with a firm bump on the grass. The glider quickly skidded to a halt, and it was someone else's turn this time, to push the glider back to the take off area of the field!
The brief flying experience took about five minutes in total and felt like it had ended almost as soon as it had started. I seem to remember that it cost me £5, with £2 for the winch tow, all paid in cash! Quite an expensive experience in 1979 terms!
Unstrapped out of the uncomfortable bucket seat, I recall staggering out of the cockpit, trying to get the feeling and warmth back into my feet!
Then back to Marshalling duties yet again, until it was my turn eventually for a final second flight, before the weather got too bad and gloomy to fly in.

Whilst I was waiting, I had my binoculars with me and I saw an ex. American Airlines Boeing 707, now bought by Monarch and being prepared for lease on to Cyprus Airways, flying out of Luton possibly for a test flight. That seemed to be the highlight of the day at Luton! as the well used second hand airliner rumbled into the sky, leaving a small trail of dark grey smoke from the four early turbofan engines behind it, with the venerable jet aircraft soon to disappear into the cloud. This reminds me about the alleged true story of another ex. American Airlines B.707, that had been delivered to Monarch at Luton at about the same time, and had just undergone some maintenance work in the Monarch hangars.
It was also on a test flight, and soon after take off, developed a serious hydraulic leak from the undercarriage, which sprayed a large mist of Skydrol (aircraft hydraulic fluid) and drifted over the nearby Vauxhall car and van factory; onto some of Vauxhall's finest at the time, awaiting delivery in the giant car park! The Skydrol did its corrosive job quite well, and started to strip the paint off some of the brand new cars! An expensive flight for Monarch, as they apparently also received a bill for the cost of respraying the cars involved! 

I got another chance to 'brave' the elements in the cramped cockpit of the 'Brick', and again it was a quick five minute experience, following some other gliders back into the airfield, before the weather closed in for the day. Another £7 spent in discomfort! There weren't many more flights afterwards, and soon it was time to pack up for the day, and put the glider back into one of the hangars for a 'rest'. We needed a rest as well! after pushing that heavy weight across the field and back to its home. In the end, only one of us in the group got a single flight of over ten minutes that day, due to getting the good fortune of a sudden strong updraught of cold air reflected off the local hills.

Whilst recovering a bit, and £14 poorer! I did some sums in my head, and it worked out that it would cost me £60 an hour, without the cost of the tows included! Compared to about £30 to £45 an hour at the time, to learn to fly in a powered light aircraft. I decided that this gliding 'lark' was too expensive for me, and I resolved that when I got the chance (and the money!), I would have a go at flying light aircraft instead.
And that's the end of my gliding experience, only to be finished by having a long journey home. Even though we were all tired, somehow, the woman driver decided light up another Consulate and fill the car up with tobacco fumes yet again, and take a lengthy detour to somewhere near Hemel Hempstead, where she was booking an evening in a tacky looking, poor relation to a Las Vegas style local night club. I was already almost choking in the smoke when we arrived in the night club car park. And we were delayed there for some time, whilst she was sorting out her booking. Still, we had no choice since she was the driver, and it was her car!
Eventually we made it back to Chiswick via her house first, to drop something off, and then the side road off Chiswick High Street by the pub. By then, the cigarette smoke supposedly "Cool from that mountain stream" from the 'Consulate girl' had now reached the pit of my stomach, making me feel very queasy and car sick! I just made it out of the car in time, and felt sick as the car drove away into the busy traffic of the main road.
What a strange experience! and not to be forgotten in a hurry, as I walked slowly home wondering if it was worth it, and looking forward to my bed soon afterwards!

Back to another dose of reality, and another strange thing was that when I left school in November, I was advised to sign on at the local job centre, and apply for unemployment benefit. With plenty of spare time now on my hands, I duly followed this advice.

Soon afterwards in November, I received an appointment to attend an interview in the Unemployment Office located in Acton, near the Town Hall. This was to check if I qualified for unemployment benefit.
Suitably dressed in unemployed looking attire, wearing a black donkey jacket and old blue jeans, I think I presented the right image of the 'deserving unemployed'! I remember sitting in a government office, in a nondescript looking 1950's brown brick and concrete low rise office block. There were a panel of three civil servant staff sitting at a table in front of me, and the man who appeared to be in charge, was rather tubby, balding, and looked middle aged, wearing thick black rimmed glasses and also dressed in a grey nondescript suit, to perfectly blend in with the dull surroundings! Various questions were asked of me, the main one being; "Why are you claiming unemployment benefit?" I told them that I was now old enough to claim the benefit, and that I was advised to do so, since I had no job currently. If I had known how apparently humiliating the process was, and how I had to almost beg for the benefit, I wouldn't have bothered! The interview soon finished, and I left the office wondering why I went through the process.

The next step was to attend the 'signing on' queue, at the Power Road Unemployment Office. This scene was more like the one from the controversial 1979 Saatchi and Saatchi general election 'Labour isn't Working" poster. Except it was under the Conservatives now, who promised so much but now delivered too little, except rapidly rising unemployment to the then desperate electorate.

Another dull looking fluorescent lit office, where many hours were spent, with several long winding queues of unhappy, bored or resigned looking unemployed people, waiting to eventually get seen, and their application forms and other paperwork sorted out at the interview desks, by the overworked and unsympathetic Benefits clerks.
I returned to the vicinity about three years ago, visiting the Honda dealership for some boat engine spares, and wandering around the area, noticed that the Unemployment Office office had long gone (maybe they thought unemployment had been banished by then?!), and was now replaced by a BMW main office and parking lot on the site for new cars to be delivered - how times and affluence have changed!    

Eventually I got paid, and had to visit my local Post Office (also now gone!) every two weeks to cash the Giro Cheque, for a sum I seem to remember, that worked out to about £17 a week. Not much even back then, and there was the implied feeling that you felt like a 'scrounger' at the Post Office when claiming the paltry benefit.

                                                            Thanks to Conservative Party Archive 
                                                                                                     for the image.    

After a pleasant Christmas, with no school routine to return to in the New Year; I got another appointment letter from the DHSS (Department of Health and Social Security) in January 1980. A new decade with new prospects and possibilities.
This time it was to attend the Job Centre for an interview concerning looking for jobs. What followed was a confusing, almost humorous session in their orange, cream and brown carpeted offices. Sitting at the round blonde wood table with another 'vacant' looking woman Employment clerk, we had a pointless conversation going round in circles; where she told me that I should be looking for a job, otherwise my benefit would be stopped. I tried to tell her that I already had a job lined up, starting next month! She just couldn't understand what was going on for some time, until I finally made her comprehend that I was told to 'sign on' for unemployment benefit, even though I had a job to go to eventually! Subsequent to that meeting, I ignored all further DHSS correspondence, and with no surprise, the unemployment benefit payments soon stopped.
By a strange co-incidence for a third time! this Job Centre has also been closed down, and has remained empty and boarded up for over five years now. I wonder where the local unemployed go to these days? 

Time was ticking away, and days were passing until that eventful day in February, when I would be starting my new career in aviation. In between, I managed to get some winter sun with my parents, visiting Malaga in Spain via Madrid; staying at a Spanish friend of the family's flat for a couple of weeks. Despite the warm daytime sun, the Mediterranean sea was still icy cold when I once paddled my feet in it!
We got to fly on a B.A Trident Three and a Lockheed Tristar, plus a couple of Iberia Boeing 727-200's which was an interesting experience, using my father's airline staff travel concessions.

When I returned home to a cold London, there were only a few days left to go, to prepare myself for the next challenge. My first day at B.A.!

Hope anyone out there found it reasonably entertaining?! Keep looking out for the next episode of my aviation influenced life - which will be published eventually!

B.A. or my Life?!.... The First Chapter - The waiting time.

  
Chapter One continued.... The waiting time.

Patience is a virtue, or so they say?.... I certainly needed some patience back then, after the experiences of the interview faded slowly away, into the memories of a summer now past.
The aircraft still thundered over regularly on the approach to Heathrow Airport, reminding me of future possibilities.

It was now September 1979, back at school, and enrolled into the 'A' Levels course in the Lower Sixth Form class, at the now defunct Isleworth Grammar School. Roll on the new merged, new socialist social experiment comprehensive school! Political meddling sounds 'ripe' for educational disaster, and it was as predicted! Schools were becoming cost driven educational factories, churning out kids in ever larger class sizes; administered by faceless people who know the cost of everything, and the value of nothing - the idea seems to be continuing on even now.

The school was starved of funds and facilities for years, whilst it was a lonely bastion for a while to selective exam based education, and stubbornly held out against being made Comprehensive. Now when it capitulated and surrendered to the socialist education plan, the Labour party were 'comprehensively' voted out of government, and the Conservatives under 'Maggie' were now in!!! Almost following the movement of Labour politicians, some of our best teachers also decided that it was time to go, amidst this new chaos. 
Another addition to this 'toxic' experiment mix, were all the 'dunces', 'hard' or was it 'head cases?', 'wasters', and other school social misfits (a bit like me I suppose?), now added from the local Comprehensive school we merged with; with a bit of a naff 'reputation' for trouble and under achievement to preserve!
That's perfect timing for you?! as well as having a building site at school, suddenly appearing all around in 1979, as we were trying to study for exams, and then starting our 'A' Level studies earnestly?! Well, maybe not so keenly involved in educational activities!
At least it was a good excuse, all that noise and disruption at times, with builders roaming around in their hard hats, not to pay attention to lessons!

Out of the 'ashes' of the old Grammar School, came the new Gym, a new Art room and Science labs, and a Woodwork shop, as part of the new Comprehensive School 'shiny new world'. Just the minor problem that nothing much worked! or was wired up in the new Science lab rooms, when they were opened according to the 'Master Plan', with their bright white and yellow painted walls. So the old Science rooms had to be temporarily used again, until the work was eventually properly finished.

Being the Sixth Form, we got the old Woodwork shop as our common room. But since it was formerly a workshop, we got no extra heating, just a quick brush over of cream coloured paint on the walls, and it gave a good temperature impression of the inside of a fridge, in the onset of Autumn and Winter. The stone cold feeling charcoal grey rough carpet tiles, with the added 'ambiance' of easy chairs, which looked just like a job lot that fallen out of a local junk shop; with their flimsy wooden flaking varnish arm rests, and thin and tired looking pale green and grubby yellow cushions, with the now flagging stuffing just about to burst out of them, was meant to give the look of adult sophistication for teenagers soon about to enter the adult world.
Small scratched wooden coffee tables were added to the chaotic and 'clapped out mix', to catch shins and ankles on, if  you were in a hurry to get somewhere?!
I don't know why, but the fashion of the day seemed to be groups of students, huddling around these low wooden coffee tables, playing the card game Bridge, whilst leaning over, and not trying to get backache in the easy chairs!
Being a teenage rebel to convention, and anti- fashion, with 'mop head' hairstyle, wearing my dark blue and white striped, thin nylon and plastic sports mac - very sweaty and very '70's! with a Gulf Air Tristar badge pinned on it. Badges of various sorts were still fashionable - some liked CND, Mod or Punk themes, and I liked Tristars! Finished off with a sweater (very apt!), dark brown corduroy trousers and green Dunlop trainers. Plus not having a clue how to play Bridge properly! I tried to ignore all this tedious daily break time activity.

There are memories of a radio someone had brought along in the room, playing Tubeway Army's "Are Friends Electric?" in the background, and the moody synthesiser sound suited my teenage feelings at the time perfectly. I also liked Blondie's "Atomic" and Elvis Costello's "Oliver's Army", which was also being played, and also in the pop charts at the time. A discussion was going on whether some of us thought Rod Stewart's "Do you think I'm Sexy?" is better than 'boring' Tubeway Army?! Status Quo was one of my main contenders in the boring sounding groups according to me, which would bring 'howls' of derision.


I also remember thumbing through a copy of Time Out magazine, and reading the reviews of new films such as "Radio On", with it's unique monochrome art design film poster (I liked the Inex Adria DC-9 aircraft in it!), except that I didn't have the spare money to go and see the film in the cinema! There was a deep recession going on in Britain, and money was tight. Other quirky films around at the time, I remember, were Jabberwocky and Alien.

I've added a clip of the film, that I found recently, to give people a feel of what it was like at the time.

With the introduction soundtrack of David Bowie - Ahh! The memories of youth!






Thanks to the Narcissist071 and the BFI for the film clip.

Also glamorised at the time were cigarette adverts, and on the back page of the magazine, there was an advert purveying the cool image of French Gitane cigarettes with blue and white statuettes.
It certainly did influence us teenagers, since by then about a quarter of our class excluding me, were regular smokers when they could afford it! And more about this later on.

A cold wintry feeling draught of air flowed around at ankle height, just above carpet tile level, chilling the feet if you hung around too long without moving, in the easy chairs; fed from the ill fitting window frames that ran along both sides of the room. On one side, were rows of pale yellow wooden lockers where we could put our books and bags in, which I suppose did act as a little bit of insulation and kept some of the cold air at bay. A handful of ancient cast iron radiators that had seen better days in the 1930's, did their best to provide a feeble level of background heat.
This was supposed to be adult style sophistication? now we were allowed to have our own common room, and not have to wear school uniform any more.

For some strange reason, the school 'Tuck Shop' was placed in the corner of the room, that used to be the workshop office near the room entrance, so the kids could get their 'fix' of highly refined sugar, fat, salt and caffeine; in chocolate bars, sweets and Coca Cola, to keep them going and hyperactive through the day at school! I suppose that it was a bit better than the reputed health hazard 'Maxpax' machine that lurked in a poorly lit area of the school near the main hall, dispensing an affront to the reputation of hot beverages, for ten pence a time! 

Even though they paid a small retainer for a couple of Sixth Formers to run the 'Tuck Shop', I couldn't be bothered to get involved with it. I had far more important 'teenage angst' things at school to get on with.
The routine was so dull at the time, that the memory of lessons was just a blur. I had elected to study 'A' Level Physics, Mathematics and Art; but only had a real interest in Art, and just muddled through the other lessons.
One of the last main memories of School lessons, was being in the new Art room after school, to finish off some work on my art project painting I was doing. The picture was getting quite large, so needed a lot of time spent on it. It was in October, about after five p.m. in the evening, and soon time to pack up and go home. Looking out of the large panoramic ground floor window, I could see the main school building tower in the clear evening sky. The sun had just set below the horizon, and I observed a Trans World (TWA) early version B.747 jumbo jet fly over low, soon to land at the airport. The approach and landing lights were on, as were the logo lights which lit up the tail area in the darkness, so the airline colours could be seen. I could just about hear the sound of the four Pratt and Whitney PW JT7D  turbofan engines through the glass as they were throttled back on the approach. It was quite a memorable sight, soon followed by another smaller aircraft in the darkening sky, on the approach landing path.
There was also a small transistor radio in the Art room as well, which provided with me with more musical memories. Earlier on, Kraftwerk had been on playing "Autobahn", and as I was thinking of clearing up and putting my things away on the work table, the tune of "Video Killed the Radio Star" by the Buggles was now on the radio. This tune stuck in my head for quite a while, since it was played so frequently on the radio at the time!

Steve the class Mod, with his olive green parka, who was also working on a painting next to me, got interrupted by 'Rothmans fag packet' Phil, one of our classmates not doing Art;  who unobtrusively suggested that it was time to slip off quietly to the toilets for a 'fag break'! The new woman art teacher must have got suspicious by now, seeing students sometimes with classmate visitors, going off regularly to the toilet together; or maybe she thought that they were developing homosexual tendencies?! Knowing a few of them, possibly both! 
Steve also told me that he wanted to experiment with hash sometime soon. I told him that it was a daft idea and not to bother, but who knows if he did actually try that rubbish eventually?

The newly refurbished toilet block in the corridor, near to the new Art room and Woodwork shop, acted both as a magnet and haven for the 'smokers' and the so called 'hard cases'. Sometimes the cigarette smoke was so thick, that it could be smelt in the corridor outside. I only once used these toilets, and faced a thin mist of bluish white tobacco smoke lingering around, from the aftermath of the smokers antics, behind the bright yellow Melamine faced cubicle doors. The place smelt like a giant ashtray, and I didn't bother to return ever again, unlike the many nicotine addicts! 
During my last few months at school, one of our supposed 'hard cases' and 'drop out', (who was originally quite a studious type) nicknamed 'Weebil'  made school notoriety; when he turned up in his black punk gear, and wearing a swastika arm band. Then after having a fag in the toilets, felt bored and decided to vandalize and rip one of the 'canary' coloured toilet doors off its hinges. Just as he was doing this, a teacher walked past in the corridor and heard the commotion, went in and caught him in the act. 'Weebil' swiftly found himself in front of the Headmaster and was soon expelled from school. The last tales of the toilets I heard about, was that one of the 'tough nut' teachers caught the smoking group in action, then several other teachers soon arrived and rounded up the miscreants, and humiliating punishment was swiftly handed out from what I heard, including the confiscation of their 'valuable' smoking materials!

During this period, as a present from my parents, I also started driving lessons in a new 'fancy styled' Toyota Starlet hatchback driving school car, and had to fill my head now with the Highway Code in my spare time!

I was offered UCCA Clearing House paperwork to apply to go to university, but I had no interest, and after spending some time forgotten in my school holdall bag, they got filed away in the bin eventually!
One other memory was that my painting which I called 'abstract realism', got to be displayed in the Art room show on the school open evening! And got many complimentary comments. 

At last, in the beginning of November, the keenly expected letter from British Airways arrived at home. When I opened the envelope hurriedly, it was a letter telling me that I had got the apprenticeship job, and the starting date and details.
Feeling elated that morning, I went to school and to the amazement of my classmates, emptied out the school work contents of my locker into the nearby grey metal bin! I then went to the Headmaster's office, and saw the Deputy Head instead. I was told to go to my lessons and hand my textbooks in to the teachers concerned, and I also returned the large reinforced heavy cardboard drawing/painting folder, that I had been lent from the Art department. Goodbyes were said, and I soon found myself sitting on the shiny black leather settee, in the dark wood panelled main entry foyer, normally reserved for school visitors, positioned opposite the meaningless (to most of us) school trophies glass fronted case. Several classmates I knew, stared at me as they walked past, wondering what was happening to me!
After what seemed quite a few minutes of waiting, the Deputy Head took me up to his office, and we had a chat. He gave me a short lecture about the new adult world outside, and I told him that I was glad to be leaving school!
So before I knew it, I was walking down the school main entrance steps for the last time, and into the bright sun with blue skies, feeling that I had finally escaped! I never looked back as I walked along the grass fringed driveway, past the teacher's cars to the school main gates, and a new direction in my life. That was it now, really no turning back!


Whew! That was a long episode, and the last one in the First Chapter. If and when I recover from all this work, I may eventually get the energy and enthusiasm to type the next episode in the new Chapter.
I wonder is there is still anyone awake out there, after reading all of this?!

B.A. Or my Life?!... The first Chapter - The Interview.

Chapter One continued.      The Interview.....

The long delayed next part of my story is at last here! I'm sure that you've all been waiting out there with expectation and excitement?! Maybe that's going too far? Just perhaps, a yawn? "Oh no, not another lot of waffle published on yet another a blog to read!"

Well, here's my latest lot of waffle to peruse, for what it's worth, set way back in 1979! I'm amazed to think that thirty years have passed now, since these events happened in an ever dimmer and more distant past.

From the security gate; that short asphalt pathway I was walking along, by the raised brick plant beds, was potentially the path to a career in aviation, and I didn't have a clue at that time where it would lead!
Since I hated suits, and didn't possess one and also disliked the traditional collar and tie look; at the time, I must have looked a bit like a German 'U Boat' officer extra from a wartime film, but without the peaked cap! with my thin white polar necked white sweater borrowed from my brother's wardrobe back then, and a dark blue jacket and trousers, and black shoes. The look I suppose, was meant to be smart casual, but at least I looked a bit different and memorable from the typical M&S suited 'interviewee fodder'. 

At the entrance, I saw the sign saying "Comet House" by the glass fronted heavy double doors. Taking a deep breath, and with a light tingling feeling in my stomach, there was no turning back now.
I opened one of the doors  and noticed a pay office counter, a bit like one found in a bank on my right, and also noticed a sign for interviews that were being conducted on the first floor. In front of me were some steps that I went up, winding round to the first floor corridor. The floors were pale greyish green polished lino, and there was a noticeable odour around of the typical office floor polish used. It reminded me a bit of school!
I still was a bit early for the interview, and looking along the corridor I could see the small office that was being used for the interviews. The glass paned door opened and I met the interviewer. He greeted me, shook my hand, and ushered me into the office. It was the typical plain small office layout, with a filing cabinet on one side, a desk in the middle and two chairs, and a large window looking out onto the access road and the main entrance, and in the distance, the West Engineering Base Technical Block D  (TBD) hangars and apron.
He introduced himself as Mr. Tutt from Personnel and Recruiting; a balding man in his late forties or maybe early fifties dressed in a typical corporate grey suit with dark tie. He seemed pleased that I was on time, and maybe a little bit early for the interview. Also came across as an amiable and possibly quite shrewd type of interviewer, trying to put me at ease.

When we sat down, I noticed through the window behind him in the distance, the white and  green Boeing 707 that I had looked at earlier, and it helped me my concentrate my mind and forget my feeling of nerves!
Looking business like, I took out a notepad and pen from my black holdall, with some pre-prepared questions to ask. Whether this impressed him at all, I don't know?!
During the interview, in which time seemed to fly by, and it may have been up to an hour? he asked me about my interests and achievements, and about me going gliding at the Dunstable Gliding Club. One of the questions I remember concerning this, was that if some friends turned up in a car, asking me to go gliding with them, and I knew I had to study for exam that was coming along in the next day or two; what would I do? Would I drop the books and go off for a day's gliding, or would I refuse their offer and put the exam studying first. He laboured the point a bit, and I knew what he was implying!! Anyway, I said the right thing which seemed to satisfy Mr. Tutt.
He also asked me if I had any relatives working in the airline, and I told him about my father working over at Catering at the Central Area at Heathrow, and an old friend of his who worked on Concordes.
About my qualifications, he seemed more than satisfied with my exam results, and continuing on, he asked me some technical questions; such as how an aircraft wing works, and provides lift and demonstrate it with some paper provided on the desk. I just about managed to convince him with my then very basic knowledge of aerodynamics! A much simpler task for me, was when he asked me to identify several airliner types from pictures provided - easy stuff now!
Other things I seem to remember, since I wanted to be trained in avionics, was a question about how to wire a domestic three pin plug, and calculating the wattage of a one bar electrical fire with the figures provided, and the size of fuse in amps, to fit in the plug.

We chatted a bit about the apprenticeship, and the job opportunities provided, and he suggested that working on aircraft in the hangars, on big maintenance checks at the engineering base, was the best place to get a good 'grounding' of experience; even though I told him that I wanted to work over on the Central Area in the Tech units, doing short checks and turnaround work on aircraft. Little did I know that he was right, and I would end up doing what he suggested in future years!

Now it was my turn to ask questions, and I enquired about pay and conditions, annual leave holiday entitlements that would be expected during training. The type of course I would be on and the training involved.
I think he seemed quite pleased with the way the interview was progressing, and I was relieved when it was coming to the end!
We got up and shook hands, and he told me that I would be notified fairly soon if I had got the job of apprentice avionic technician, but he seemed to give the impression that I had a good chance.

Leaving the office, I felt happy that it was all over, and had gone quite well. Retracing my steps, I found myself outside Comet House again, and decided that I would visit the perimeter area; this time to the other side of the Dunlop building near Hatton Cross, and see what aircraft were around at the airport.

Comet House was quite a large sprawling brick and concrete rectangular office building, built in the late 1950's, which housed the B.A. pay offices and some other administration offices, such as aircraft scheduling at LHR for both B.A and other airlines. I was to find out more about this, when I decided to look for another job many years later.
It was disused by the late 1990's and demolished along with Speedbird House in the spring of 2000. Now the large ugly run-down area is just used for storing building materials, and has been a rubble strewn building site ever since, at the entrance to the engineering base - criss crossed with large galvanised steel mesh fences and coils of razor wire, it looks more like the former boundary to East Berlin during the communist days! Such is so called progress! and sums up what has been recently happening to British Airways.

Walking along by the perimeter fence, towards the long evergreen hedge near the landing lights by runway 28 Left I, could see some of the airport 'action', with aircraft coming and going on their regular daily schedules. Once again, the distinctive smell of burnt jet aviation fuel Jet A-1 was filling my senses, with the background distant 'whine' of jet engines. One aircraft I remember that stood out from the usual visitors that afternoon, was a white, orange and silver scheme Martinair DC-9 (a Dutch charter airline), not a common visitor and most probably operating on a KLM flight, taxying out from Terminal 2 in front of the 'Echo' Stands. In those days, aircraft parking stands were designated in a logical alphabetical order, followed by a stand number.
It was nice to see something a bit different that day, and for some strange reason, the tune of 'Street Life' by the Crusaders, which was in the record charts and being played a lot on the radio at the time, was 'going around' in my head, whilst I was walking along.

Time to go back, and the occasional B.A. Trident jet thundered over my head, leaving a semi-transparent greyish black billowing trail in the air, of exhaust smoke from the three rear mounted Rolls Royce Spey engines, as I passed by the line of runway landing lights . Aeroplanes were certainly more dramatic back then, with their noise and exhaust emissions!

But there were many fewer airliners in those days, with a lot less aircraft movements (take-offs and landings) during the day, and virtually no night flights, compared to today.

Arriving home in the late afternoon sun, it was time for an early dinner since I was starving! and I had macaroni cheese in the (sounds posh in those days!) house extension used as a conservatory.
It's a strange fact that as I type this blog, more memories 'flood back' than I had ever expected!


I put away the holdall, and the stuff I had taken with me for the interview, and tomorrow was just another day, back to the normal routine and school life eventually!

Stay around for the next episode of "B.A. or my Life?!" You never know, you might even find it slightly interesting?!

B.A. Or my Life?!... The first Chapter - In the Beginning.

Chapter One.      In the Beginning.....

As promised so many times now, at last! some might say; this is the the first chapter of my (sort of) autobiography or musings about aviation, and my time in involved in this 'curious' airline world.

Okay, okay, I know "In the Beginning...." is not the most original title, but it's good enough for my purposes, and we have to start somewhere?! in the 'tangled' and meandering, digressive memories of my mind.

From a very young age, I had always wanted to be a pilot. Not just some typical short term fad or fantasy, but a long term deep fascination with aeronautical things. First I wanted to be a military pilot, enthralled by past designs and high speed performance of the latest fighter jets.
By the mid. 1970's, I had 'matured' enough to realize that due to serious defence spending cuts, and harsh economic times (sounds a bit like today again?!) that being in the military wouldn't quite be the experience that was promised by the slick recruitment adverts! Plus I was starting to get the typical rebellious young teenage feelings about 'authority', and the thought of having to do lots of 'square bashing' military training, parades, and all the other nonsense involved with flight officer training; with the delights of also having to polish everything that didn't move, for good measure for inspection! helped put me off. That all had to be endured, before I would even get near an aeroplane!
Also the minor fact that my eyesight wouldn't be good enough, to pass the strict medical tests required for fighter pilots, would be just a slight problem!
A brief spell of almost a year attending the Air Training Corps, in my spare time in the weekday evenings, also confirmed my view about the Royal Air Force!

So I gradually got more and more interested in civil aviation and passenger jets, and would spend large parts of my spare time hanging around the local airport, and other airports and airfields around the south east of England, soaking up the atmosphere, and seeing airliners from all over the world arrive and depart. I wanted desperately to be part of it all!
By 1978, I had made the decision to become an airline pilot, or at least do something else interesting in the airline industry; and surprise, surprise, the careers officer at school was absolutely useless, and didn't have a clue! The careers office advice was that I should consider being a teacher! Really great advice eh?, since I hated secondary school, and did my best to do the bare minimum of work whilst I was there! And couldn't wait to escape school and it's daily dull routine. The aviation life seemed so exciting by comparison! Little did I know what to really expect!
I was also told that I had good artistic talent by the art teacher, and should consider going to art college. I pondered with this idea for a while, but decided that I would make better money working in the airline industry; especially with the current economic crisis at the time.

With the background of the 'Winter of Discontent', sudden strikes, and the final throes of a Jim Callaghan (Sunny Jim) Labour government collapse; things sounded grim in those days, but I remember that they were also sometimes exciting times of great change. In youth culture terms, it was the end of Punk, and the birth of New Wave, and a whole lot of new sounds and groups on the scene, such as Blondie, Roxy Music, The Boomtown Rats, Squeeze, XTC, X-Ray Specs and electronic pop, The Buggles . These were to be the background sountracks, of my life and memories of this period of the 1970's.
Back to the school stuff unfortunately! First I had to make an effort, and pass my O'Level exams; since those unemployment queues were getting ever longer, and my prospect of getting a good job were getting slimmer. I finally got down to doing several years of study, which I should have been doing, compressed into about six months of intensive work, in preparation for the forthcoming examinations. I had been 'optimistically' been entered for ten O' Level exams!

At the same time, I also got some information about aircraft engineering apprenticeships both at British Airways (B.A.) and British Caledonian (BCAL). But because my father had fairly recently got a job at British Airways, it would be my preferred choice; since I had some idea of what to expect. And if I got accepted by British Caledonian, it would mean that I would have to find some where to live near Gatwick Airport, and Heathrow was almost 'just down the road' for me! 
My first enquiry though, was for B.A. airline pilot training at Hamble. After a chat about requirements to get accepted, I was told that I would most probably meet the academic standards, but I would have to wear glasses to meet the eyesight standards; which was not too much of a problem, but they had a queue of applicants to chose from, with A1 or close to perfect eyesight, so there's not much point in applying!
Feeling a bit fed up afterwards, I decided that, 'If I couldn't fly them, at least I could fix them!"
And this then spurred me on to apply to B.A. first, for an engineering apprenticeship.
Just as well I didn't get accepted for pilot training, since I found out by 1982, the Hamble flight training centre had closed down due to serious cost cutting, and the airline pilot students on the course found themselves without a job. The economic crisis was biting, and B.A. found that they had too many pilots, so why train any more? It looked like I had a lucky escape, and was extremely fortunate this time!

I filled out the apprenticeship application forms, sent them off, and then waited expectantly for some time. Then I think it was at the beginning of 1979, I got a letter back asking me to attend aptitude tests at the Trident Club near Northolt. It has long since gone, being a B.A. social club at the time with a wonderful view of the runway, and a few of the aircraft parked on the aprons at R.A.F Northolt aerodrome. So a little bit of time was taken looking at the airfield view!
Being really surprised, how many hundreds of other youngsters had also turned up there, I realized that I would have a lot of competition in store! I also found that the aptitude tests were far more difficult than I expected, and about half a day was spent in the large examination venue. I think we were given some refreshments whilst we were there, and I also remember meeting someone else from my school in the same year, nicknamed "Gibbles" who also wanted a job in the airline game. Afterwards, we both went to Heathrow, and ended up in the viewing terrace cafeteria, swapping our experiences of the tests, over a can or two of shandy, and what we thought some of the answers could have been to the more difficult questions; whilst B.A. Tridents and the occasional Lockheed Tristar went past in front of us, seen through the panoramic glass windows.

Months went by, and I was now more concerned with final studying in May at home, for the O' Level exams in the summer. I got a bit concerned after the exams had finished, that there was no news regarding my job application, so I contacted B.A. again. Their response was that my application had somehow got lost in the system (most probably fallen behind a filing cabinet in an office, knowing B.A.!)
I couldn't apply for the BCAL apprenticeship scheme now, since they only had only a small number of apprentice jobs available, and they were filled by now. I had also missed my chance to join the 1979 B.A. intake of apprentices; but after telling them that I had passed nine O' Levels in the end, I was told to re-apply for the Spring 1980 intake, and it would be a formality. The only problem was that by 1980, I was at the upper age limit of 17 and three quarter years old eligibility, and I would just about be young enough to start training under the rules of the apprenticeship! I also only had twice the number of qualifications required for the job as well.  
I should have known that this was a preview of how chaotic things were going to be, regarding my career with British Airways!
At last I got my letter from B.A. in the summer of 1979, informing me that I had been accepted for an interview for the prospective apprenticeship job. 

The distinctive odours of burnt kerosene ( jet aviation fuel) and the slight whiff of burnt rubber from landing aircraft tyres, were some of the first sensory 'experiences', as the 'aviation mad' youngster was getting close to London Heathrow airport.
Then followed up by the steady warm breeze felt on the face - it's almost always windy at the airport! and the mechanical, sometimes ghostly whine of aircraft turboprop engines, and early turbojet and turbofans ; the sounds drifting back and forth in the distance, with the wind blowing.
On that memorable August day in 1979, I arrived by train at Hatton Cross underground station, carrying a black holdall with supporting information required for the job interview, about myself and my achievements. Still feeling and looking new, the station had that relatively fresh smell, of a building only opened about a year before. I remember on that morning, that it was quite a sunny day, with white broken clouds in the blue expansive sky.
Feeling a bit apprehensive prior to the interview at the British Airways Engineering East base, I still had plenty of spare time before the interview appointment. So I crossed over the main road and walked to the right of the Dunlop Aviation Tyres building; instinctively towards Barclays Bank, passed the Hatton Cross roundabout, and along the perimeter to the West Base Technical Block D hangars apron area.
There wasn't much road traffic about, since it was long after the morning rush hour.

What attracted me that morning, was the sight of a gleaming immaculate looking executive jet conversion, of an early Boeing B.707-100 series, resplendent in dark green and white paint, parked up amongst the British built Trident jets, outside the hangars. It was Cayman Islands registered (VR-CAN), and I thought that "I wouldn't mind flying in one of those!"
'Lugging' the black holdall bag along by the local landmark of a row of small conifer trees, whilst walking past several B.A. Tridents, waiting 'patiently' for their eventual next flights, parked along by the perimeter road fence; I realised that it was time to make my way to the interview venue, and just about had enough time to do it.

Striding along the quite wide pavement to the East Base main entrance, I noticed the large red brick office block of Comet House on my right, seeing office staff looking busy at their desks through the ground floor windows; and it almost felt intimidating, the vast size of this organisation that I might be joining!

With the interview invitation letter in one hand, I approached the security gate box, at the main entrance to the East Base, and was met by a friendly elderly B.A. security man, dressed in an official looking black uniform, and wearing a military style white peaked cap. He must have seen it so many times before - a nervous looking job applicant, waiting to be interviewed! He directed me to the entrance of Comet House, just opposite the security gate and I then walked along a narrow path, following the sign to the interview rooms.

That's all for the moment! The next part will be "The Interview.....", which will be published eventually!
I'm sure that you all 'bloggers' out there can hardly wait?! Or maybe not!!!