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Cars Owned and Driving Experiences

Cars and Driving and Formula Ford

Since I was 17 years old I have owned a number of different cars – from the practical to the exotic. It took me three attempts to pass my driving test ….

I have always been more interested in the driving rather than worrying about the comfort factor: I have never owned a BMW or a Mercedes but I do regret never driving a Porsche Turbo (or any Porsche for that matter.}

My cars have been for the most part British – and they have been pretty awful when it came to reliability and bodywork issues. The full list of 10 cars as I remember them is below.

I was not afraid to “get my hands dirty” and carried out some of the maintenance and repair work myself on the earlier cars. Modern cars, however, have sealed units and are mostly computerised, and so unless you have the test equipment necessary, there is a limit to what repairs can be carried out privately. Now, I am not at all interested in “what’s under the bonnet”, preferring 100% reliability and minimal servicing costs – a good reason for not owning a BMW for example!

Two episodes in my life were related to driving: one was my first and only car crash and the second led to my spending the night in a police station.

The accident happened when I was still in the RAF and commuting from my cottage in Norfolk to the Marconi Headquarters in Chelmsford, Essex. This commute involved getting up early in the morning and setting off in my trusty Mk 2 Spitfire. One fine morning I was driving through one of the villages en route, which had a blind, sharp left hand corner: I must have taken it a little faster than usual – or was not concentrating – because this time I went too wide and lost the backend of the car (in other words, the rear wheels lost grip and I went into a sideways skid). As luck would have it, a tractor was coming the other way, just at the wrong time, and the Spitfire cannoned into the tractors front wheel. I was unhurt although thrown into the road (no seatbelts in those days) but the car was pretty badly dented – luckily not so badly that I had to write it off.

The second experience was a more shameful experience involving “driving under the influence”. More importantly, my passengers were my first wife and our young son.

This occurred in the Citroen in about 1984 – we had been attending one of the late night parties given by our very generous friends Chris and Jenny Efstratiou, who had a marvellous house in Stadhampton Oxfordshire. After much alcohol I decided to drive back to London at about 3 a.m. with the family – not a choice I should have made. I can remember being stopped by the police car on the A40/M40 as we were making very slow progress on the inside lane. Of course being over the limit and failing the breathalyser test was a formality and I spent the night in the police cell. Equally inevitable was the 12 month driving ban that followed.

Formula Ford Course

While under the driving ban in 1985, I took the opportunity to sign up for some experience in a single seat Formula Ford Racing car at the Snetterton Race Track in Norfolk.
The one week course was professionally done and I learnt a lot about car control. Later I also experienced the race circuits at Oulton and Donnington Park in a Formula Ford.

Riley Monaco 1932 – My first car! A Classic car when I bought it for £5 in 1966, and had some months attempting to drive it on local Somerset roads. It had an autoVac fuel system as I recall, and stopped on a regular basis without warning. I sold it after a few months for £35 – the first and last car I ever made money on!
Morris Minor Classic £50 – The next car and in traditional green. I used this when I was at Cranwell for the first year or so. It suffered from rust – the traditional UK Motor Trade shortcomings – but I remember it because it did not seem to require engine oil. After adding oil on a number of occasions, I stopped doing so because there appeared to be no benefit! No idea what happened to it.
Triumph Herald 950 – As I recall it was predominantly blue and was the next in the series of underpowered and forgettable British cars but it was cheap and replaced the Morris.
Triumph Spitfire Mk 2 My Mother bought this car for me in 1969 as a graduation present – it cost then £400. It was a white two seater with a black interior and was a big step up in performance terms with a top speed of about 90 mph.
Jaguar E-Type Coupe 4.2 Litre -White 2 seater with black interior. I bought this myself when in London for £900, and used it on occasion to drive to work. Beautiful looking car, fantastic engine noise and a top speed approaching 140 mph. Not so good in the corners! Sold it after six months or so for same price.
Triumph Stag 3 Litre V8 1972 – I bought this car in about 1980 for £3000. Originally red, I changed it to white. I loved the sound of the engine and it was a pretty car although suffering from “UK engineering”. I spent a fortune on it over the next 35 years and kept it as a second car in London, using it exclusively for short trips. Sold for about £4000 in 2014/2015
Citroen CX Familiale 2400 cc 7 seater Estate This was bought in about 1980 as a practical family car for long trips to parents in Wiltshire and Yorkshire with child and dog. It was large and grey, and comfortable, although not very economic. My first non British car!
Ford Sierra RS Cosworth 2 Litre – This was the 2 door version and I bought it circa 1985 for £15000. Not the most practical of family cars, my version was white, and the fastest car I had ever driven – great acceleration – with a large “spoiler” at the back. I was a big fan of the Touring Car Racing series at the time. I sold it after about six months for a little less than I paid.
Honda Prelude 2.2 Litre VTec – I loved this car – it was a 2 door coupe coloured metallic grey. It was surprisingly quick and comfortable and reliable – Japanese engineering! Bought in about 1987 it lasted more than 20 years until my second wife decided to check whether it was amphibian on a flooded Thames Towpath. Unfortunately it was not, and it died.
Nissan Micra 2006 – My present car, I bought this to use in Crete for 6000 euros in about 2012. Despite the appalling roads and appalling conditions, it has been reliable and economic to this day.

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RAF Marham First Posting

RAF Marham Norfolk UK

After I had completed my engineering course at RAF Cranwell, my first posting as a “fully fledged” Flying Officer in the Engineering Branch was to RAF Marham in Norfolk. At the time there were three squadrons using Marham as their base, 214 Squadron, 57 Squadron and 55 Squadron.

55 Squadron was by coincidence my father’s Squadron in WW2, where he saw active service as a pilot on Baltimore aircraft from 1943 when based in Egypt, North Africa.

As the home base for the Victor aircraft, whose primary task was to carry out mid-air flight refuelling, my post as OCAREF (Officer Commanding Air Refuelling Equipment Flight) was particularly interesting. In the foreword to the book containing Bob Tuxford’s memoirs (57 Squadron and RAF Cranwell 97 Entry), Rowland White – the author of Vulcan 607 covering the Falklands airstrike – makes the point that without the Victor Tankers, the mission would not have been possible. Leading on from that, it follows that without the reliability and successful operation of the actual Flight Refuelling equipment, the mission would also not have been possible

My team of airmen was responsible for maintaining the flight refuelling “pods” which were attached under the wings of the Victor. The pods were primarily hydraulically operated, and contained a long hose section (special piping) which was deployed in flight to transport fuel to the receiving aircraft: at the end of the “pipe” was a small drogue which acted as both stabiliser and target in the probe and drogue procedure.

The station was a fully operational base with constant activity, and a particularly long runway to accommodate the larger aircraft, which meant that we had visits from all types of plane, including the USA Boeing KC135 Tankers; the Americans had a nearby base at Lakenheath and were very hospitable as I recall!

Life at RAF Marham was comfortable and the Officer’s Mess and accommodation first class. My office was one of several in a building situated directly in front of the main aircraft parking area, and within walking distance of the bay or workshop where the pods were serviced. I reported to a Squadron Leader Grey. The section was very efficiently run by Chief Technician Barlowe, with a number of sergeants and a small team of airmen, who knew the equipment “inside out” – which meant that there was not a lot for me to do! Life was actually pretty dull after Cranwell, and my job was mainly paper pushing, checking on new modifications to the equipment, overseeing the occasional misdemeanour and making sure that my Chief Tech was happy! The Chief “ran the show”, and one of my self-appointed duties before I left was to recommend him for promotion to Flight Sergeant, which was long overdue and fully deserved.

One of my tasks was to organise the RAF Marham cricket team: since I was new to the station, finding out who could actually play cricket was in itself a challenge, and I needed to field a mixed ranks team of both officers and airmen to have any chance of putting together a decent side. I am happy to say that the team did have some wins, although we were hampered by availability problems when some of the key members (aircrew) were on exercise.

Apart from the cricket and the occasional challenges arising from air exercises and operations, life for me was boring. My fellow engineers were good sorts but dull – except for Flt Lt Fred Smith. Fred was then in his fifties and had come through the “ranks” – he had a wicked sense of humour and was great company. There was no-one else posted to Marham from Cranwell whom I knew, and the aircrew tended to be an elitist bunch. And I was pursued from time to time by unmarried daughters from the marriage quarters as a likely catch and good “husband material”

So for a number of reasons, after a year or so I applied to move out of the Mess and into private accommodation. There was a like-minded fellow officer – Bas Simpson from the Supply Branch (I think) – who was engaged to be married and shared my opinion about living on the Base: we found a derelict cottage in Saham Hills – a village a few miles from Marham. If I remember correctly, the rent was either nothing or very minimal because a lot of work was required to make it habitable. Bas, with his fiance, and I duly moved in and split the cottage into separate living areas.

As my posting drew to a close, in 1974 I put in a request to resign my commission and leave the RAF: the process was not straightforward, and my next posting would have been to RAF Wildenrath in Germany, looking after the Bloodhound Missile section, which under different circumstances, would also have been most interesting.

While I was waiting for a decision, I was “seconded” for a few months to the Marconi Company based in Chelmsford Essex, which was a Defence contractor – part of GEC at the time – and now part of British Aerospace (BAE) I was working in the section involved with radar for the military, and as I recall, we operated out of Portakabins on the Marconi “station”.

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Thank You 96 Entry

1 Comment / RAF 1967 to 1974, The Early Years 1949 to 1974 / admin

Why RAF Cranwell was Important to me

Personal Memories

I think the biggest advantage for me – after my unhappy experiences at King’s School Canterbury – was the personal freedom now enjoyed, combined with new colleagues who were my equal in status: Cranwell was not about how much money your parents had or social position. Yes, I had some academic advantages, which gave me a head start, but at 96 Entry we were all in this together as young adults, going through the “system”. And my father had served in the RAF during the war, flying Baltimores on 55 Squadron, so there was a family connection.

I was used to the concept of starting from the bottom as a “new boy” and working up the ladder: I understood the rationale behind the need to foster team spirit by sharing in the demeaning tactics – “crowing” – employed by the Senior Entry and our Drill Instructors: it did not bother me in the slightest!

Of far more importance to me were the new freedoms and facilities available to all of us, including our own cars (for those who could afford one): and the fact that we actually got paid something. And the sporting facilities were superb, the food was great and the accommodation slowly improved as we progressed up the ladder: after (I think) the first year, we were moved out of our shared “barracks” and allocated our own rooms in the main College Building. I still remember vividly 30 or 40 of us cramming into one of the TV lounges on Thursday nights so we could watch Top of the Pops and – more importantly – Pan’s People!

The Saudi Influence

When 96 Entry was formed, the Senior Entry was 91 Entry and one of their members training to be a Pilot was the son of the King of Saudi Arabia at the time, King Faisal. There were strong political reasons for the UK to host and train the King’s son – involving Oil, British Aerospace and other National Defence considerations. Some of our cadets – including several in 96 Entry – were later to pursue careers outside the RAF but linked to the Saudi connection – Martin Shewry 96D RAF Reg and Rob Deacon-Elliott 96D GDP spring to mind.

The Saudi Royal family had untold wealth, and this was reflected in the car used by King Faisal’s son, which was an orange Lamborghini capable of 180 miles per hour, and parked at Cranwell for us to admire. Rumour has it that late at night, the journey from London’s Royal Garden Hotel (where the Saudis had a complete floor at their disposal) to RAF Cranwell was accomplished in a little over an hour.

In 96 Entry D Squadron we had our own Saudi, Prince Bandar bin Sultan. Bandar was one of the King’s illegitimate sons, and so not directly in the Saudi Hierarchy and was also training to be a Pilot. He had more modest transport in the shape of a Mercedes sports coupe and pocket money of £2000 per month, but, despite the “wealth” inequality, he was a charming and a popular member of 96, and went on to serve in the Saudi Airforce before being appointed as Saudi Ambassador in the USA – perhaps one of the most important and influential diplomatic posts of the era. Bill Simpson 96D Equip later persuaded Bandar to tell him his Life story, and the resulting book entitled “The Prince” was published in 2006

One of the most amusing memories I have is of Flight Sergeant Ken Adams bollocking Prince Bandar on the parade ground after some inept behaviour..

Who Needs a Passport? And Bandar was incredibly generous – many years after leaving Cranwell he personally paid for and organised at least two five star trips for surviving members of 96 Entry. One of those events was two days in a palace in Marrakesh in 2005 and has to be one of my best experiences. We gathered at Bandar’s luxury estate in Oxfordshire the night before the trip, and were then bussed to a nearby airfield where we boarded his personal jet with First Class travel to Morocco. When we landed I realised that I had forgotten my passport, but it did not matter – I just left the plane directly behind Bandar and never needed to produce it. We were met by a fleet of cars and it seemed that the entire city came to a halt as our convoy proceeded to Bandar’s palace. The palace was incredible – we had a superb time with traditional food and entertainment – and it will undoubtedly remain as one of my all-time best experiences.

96 Entry Personalities

I must preface this by saying that anyone who went through RAF Cranwell and shared the same experiences is pretty special in my opinion.

During my internet research, I came across the memoirs of Bob Tuxford (97A GDP ) who went on to fly Victor Tankers at RAF Marham (which was my first posting as an Engineering Officer) and was one of the Tanker pilots refuelling the Vulcan that featured in the Falklands campaign: a very interesting read, it has a section about Cranwell and mentions several of the 96 Entry Personalities featured below – notably John Waterfall – and has a photo of the College Tennis team at the time with Pete Harding and Bert Neo

Although I am only mentioning a few of my colleagues, this is either because I personally knew them better, and spent more time in their company, or as in the case of David Evans, I have benefitted from his commitment to 96 Entry.

The list below is in no particular order and mainly covers some of my memories about them during our time together at Cranwell

John Waterfall GDP 96D Decd became our Senior Under Officer, and was my personal hero because he could throw a cricket ball further than anyone else I knew! We were in the College Cricket Team together and he was later married to Jenny, whom he had known from childhood. He was humorous with acerbic wit and a great bloke. After some tours with the RAF, he left to fly as a Captain with Monarch Airlines. I was very sad to attend his funeral some 20 years ago – a life cut short and a great loss.

Howard Bates GDP 96B Decd A fellow cricketer, and talented footballer, Howard was one of the nicest people you could meet. I remember being invited to stay at the family home in Sussex, where his sister Vivian developed a crush on me – which was flattering! Howard left the RAF fairly early on and – with great acumen – started a business selling Personal Computers at the right time. He did exceptionally well by all accounts, but it ended in tragedy. He made a trip to the USA to collect some money he was owed by a partner, and ended up as a murder victim. A promising life cut short.

David Banks 95/96? Engineer I knew David fairly well and had met his family – they lived fairly close to Cranwell. Although we have not kept in touch, I shall always remember him because he had a gorgeous sister (Dorothy) with whom I had a – sadly – very brief affair after she was my partner at our Graduation Ball.

Pete Harding 96D Eng Pete (at the time!) was tall and good-looking and had an older girlfriend who visited Cranwell on several occasions: we were all very jealous. He was/is also a great tennis player, and had a wicked sense of humour. I remember that he targeted fellow engineers Bert Neo and Joe Raimondo in particular, because of their accents. I also have a lasting memory of the two of us driving my Spitfire (car) on the Cranwell airfield in the early hours of one morning after a party, trying to shoot hares with an air rifle.

Joe Raimondo 96D Eng Joe is from Malta and also one of the nicest guys you could meet. I was with him on our trip to Malta, and I have vague memories of driving around Valetta in an Italian car in the early hours, and meeting his family. I was able to repay the kindness by inviting him to stay with our family for some days at our home in Chew Magna. As fellow engineers and in the same Squadron, we got to know each other fairly well: I will always be very grateful to him for “tracking me down” many years later in 2005 so that I did not miss the Marrakesh trip.

Bert Neo 96C Eng Bertie is from Singapore, and again, one of the nicest guys you could meet. We were both on the Electrical Engineer “course”. Good humoured and always cheerful, he put up with the banter from the likes of Pete Harding and myself, and he and Pete made an unlikely but successful tennis pairing – Bert was also pretty good at tennis!

John Bradshaw 96B Eng John I remember as a serious individual, who took his studies more intently than most of us. I do not have any anecdotes involving John, except that he was the source of all information and the “go to” when one of us needed assistance with something.

Rob Deacon Elliott 96D GDP Rob’s father was an Air Vice Marshall and so Cranwell was a natural choice for him. Not the most serious of people, he was good company, and we were in the College Squash team together. He was close to Prince Bandar and I believe he left the RAF after a short period to work with Bandar full time.

Richard Calder 96D GDP Richard (Dick) Calder was brought up in Rhodesia, and was a thoroughly nice guy – quiet and serious. After graduating, and taking some further flight training, he left the RAF to “take up the cause” in the Rhodesia fight for independence, flying with the Rhodesian Airforce. I caught up with him some years post UDI when he was running a small Charter Airline out of Africa.

David Evans 96B Secretarial I did not know David that well at Cranwell – we were in different Branches and different Squadrons – but he has been the lynchpin for 96 Entry and kept us in touch with each other for the last 50 years, organising meetings and reunions. So I very much appreciate his efforts.

Rob Hunter 96D GDP Decd – Rob was one of the nicest guys you could meet. He also left the RAF early, and somewhat overweight when I spoke with him at various reunions, he was in his ideal job – flying Gulfstreams for wealthy businessmen. Sadly missed.

96 Engineers – Personal Overview

After graduating as Officers, and half way through our degree course, we were assigned comfortable accommodation on another part of the base to complete our studies.

In the first two years I had been able to “coast” academically because I had passed Maths Physics and Chemistry A Levels – which meant that I could play more sport and enjoy life. However, there were some very bright colleagues – especially ex Halton – who began to excel and this put me under some pressure.

In the last two years of training, there were other practical subjects all linked to engineering, such as woodwork and metallurgy. And a number of trips to RAF stations which were designed to show us the equipment in use and the practical side of being an Engineering Officer.

Electronics was never my favourite subject and I remember that my thesis – one of the last things to prepare for the degree – was on Gyrators, which remain a mystery to me to this day. Our RAF instructors were, however, excellent and very patient.

I developed a way to pass the necessary Exams by studying into the early hours the night before: all this resulted in a 3rd Class Honours Degree in Electrical Engineering with Aeronautical spec, but I would not describe myself in any way as particularly gifted – or interested – in electrical engineering.

Other Memorable Trips – Pre and Post Graduation

Being part of the RAF meant that travel was not a problem, especially overseas. As trainee engineers, we visited other UK stations to see some of the actual equipment in use, but for me, visits to stations like RAF North Luffenham were of limited interest.

Of far more interest were the overseas trips, and one with the Royal Navy.

Malta – RAF Luqa
According to Joe Raimondo – our resident Malteser – we made this trip shortly before graduating. Malta was interesting because of it’s strategic location in the Mediterranean which meant that all manner of aircraft needed to operate from the base at Luqa. We were guests of the Officers Mess and greatly enjoyed the trip, and visiting the old town of Valetta with our own personal translator!

Cyprus – RAF Troodos
Like Malta, Cyprus was an important strategic location and the main Base was RAF Akrotiri. As electrical engineers, our primary interest was in Troodos, where the mountain range provided an ideal site for Radar installations, run by RAF Signals. I remember also visiting Famagusta and Nicosia, and being impressed by the climate and the beauty of the island.

Gan – RAF Gan – National Squash Champion?
Not all my trips were as part of a group. Gan is a beautiful island, part of the Maldives in the Indian Ocean and was used by the RAF as an important staging post for flights to the East. The base – first built by the British during WW2 – was capable of handling large transport aircraft. My visit to Gan was by way of a two week “detachment” to gain an insight into the workings of the base from an Engineering Officer’s perspective. Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and for the first and only time in my life became a National Squash Champion! Ok, let me explain: there was a Squash Court on the station and I arranged a game with the best player on the base. After two hours play in sweltering conditions, where the squash ball was so hot that the rallies extended far longer than normal, I eventually came out on top. After this strenuous exercise, back in the Officer’s Mess, I sank two pints of orange squash in two minutes, quickly followed by several Beers!

HongKong – RAF Kai Tak – Topless or Bottomless?
From Gan, it was possible for anyone in the RAF to travel East by joining one of the scheduled trips from the base as a passenger: this was know as an “Indulgence” flight. I had always wanted to visit Hong Kong, and seized the opportunity by persuading the crew of one aircraft to take me with them on their next trip to Hong Kong. Sure enough I arrived in Hong Kong’s Kai Tak base one afternoon, having made sure of my return flight to Gan the next day! Although short of money, I planned to take in the sights of Hong Kong, and then to check out the night life from my base at a cheap hotel. I have to say that the nightlife was exotic, and the Asian girls extremely beautiful. After checking out several nightspots, and carefully monitoring my cash balance, I realised that I had to make a choice between a “bottomless” bar and a “topless” bar. I think my choice was “topless” but I may be mistaken!
Footnote: One of our Entry, Sam Hunt 96C GDP and our Number One Squash player in the Cranwell team, later became Station Commander at Kai Tak

HMS Artemis – How I became a Submariner
Whilst at Cranwell, we were given the opportunity to see what life was like in the other Services – the Army and the Royal Navy. The opportunity arose for me to spend some time aboard an active Submarine, HMS Artemis. Artemis was one of 3 surviving “A” Class submarines at the time, based at Gosport, and under the command of Lieutenant Commander Richard Sharpe. I duly arrived at Gosport and was made very welcome in the Officer’s accommodation on board, which was rather cramped as one would imagine. We were to sail from Gosport around the west coast of England to the Nuclear submarine base at Faslane in Scotland, much of the time submerged. Dress on board was pretty casual, and I spent most of the trip – approx 10 days – keeping out of the way and observing how things were run and organised. On the surface, the engines were noisy, but when submerged the boat was pretty quiet. I remember being invited to the Conning Tower with the “Skipper” as we entered Faslane, surrounded by Royal Naval vessels of all types – and being thoroughly impressed by the crew’s professionalism.
Footnote: In 1971 the Artemis sank whilst being refuelled at the Gosport Base.

Epilogue

My first posting was to RAF Marham, which I cover later in the next “chapter”, but this a good point at which to make a comment. Towards the end of my time at Cranwell, I had made enquiries about transferring to a Flying Training course so that I could complete the pilot training I had been promised. To my disappointment, “official channels” informed me that this was no longer possible due to funding and other considerations.

When I left the RAF after serving two years at Marham, I was feeling incredibly guilty at “abandoning the Service” and that was the main reason why I did not keep in touch with the friends made at Cranwell. Many years later, I realised that I was not alone, and that a good number of other colleagues had also left the RAF early rather than complete the normal career pattern to age 38 or to age 55. There were also a good number of fatalities in “the ranks”, some in flying accidents others in more “conventional” circumstances. When I met up again with members of 96 Entry in Marrakesh 35 years later, I was really pleased to see that we still had a lot in common, and everyone of us could talk together openly as former colleagues, with different experiences to share. If I am honest with myself, when I was at Cranwell I did not give 100% – that came later in my business career – but I was pleased to see how many former Cranwell colleagues had excelled.

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RAF College Cranwell

4 Comments / RAF 1967 to 1974, The Early Years 1949 to 1974 / admin

Life as an Officer Cadet 96 Entry

Background

RAF College Cranwell is the training college for future officers in the RAF. To qualify for entry in my day, every candidate had to pass a selection of aptitude tests, which were taken at the time at RAF Biggin Hill – which was in Kent and therefore quite close to my school in Canterbury.

“A” Level passes were taken into account as educational qualifications, but the most important information for the RAF was gathered from the aptitude tests, which were a combination of tests for physical attributes (sight, hearing etc) physical co-ordination and seeing how well candidates “performed” in a team environment – which was directly linked to leadership potential and therefore “officer material”.

Candidates were about 17 or 18 years old (I was 17 at the time) and we came from varied backgrounds – some like me from Public School, others from Grammar Schools, and some from RAF Halton and RAF Locking – the training colleges at the time for airmen – where the top apprentices were assessed as future “officer material”.

Some candidates had RAF connections – I remember two of our Entry had fathers serving at the time in the RAF as Air Vice Marshals – but many of us did not, and some came from overseas, so it was a mixed bag of raw talent. The most important aptitude tests were those related to flying – many of us wanted to become pilots and only a few who passed the fairly rigorous tests – including medical tests – were given this opportunity.

At the time, and as I remember it, the choices – or branches – available to a potential RAF Officer going through Cranwell were:

(1) GDP (General Duties Pilot)
(2) GDN (General Duties Navigator)
(3) Engineer
(4) Secretarial
(5) Equipment
(6) RAF Regiment

I enjoyed the experience: the tests were taken over a period of several days, and I was lucky enough to be offered entry to Cranwell and the choice of any Branch. I had always wanted to fly, but chose the Engineering Branch because I had one eye on a future which may not involve the RAF and flying: but only after I was assured that Flying Training was still “on the cards” after I had qualified as an Engineer. Another good reason for this was that I knew that an Engineer with flying experience would always be more likely to be taken seriously by full time pilots: there was – and probably still is – a big divide in attitude between aircrew and those who supported them on the ground.

96 Entry

I was in 96 Entry and about 60 of us assembled at RAF Cranwell near Sleaford in Lincolnshire UK to begin our journey into the unknown on 27th March 1967. There were two new Entries every year – arriving in March and September: each Entry was due to graduate (become fully fledged Officers) after two and a half years

The hierarchy at Cranwell was similar to the hierarchy at my last School: we were separated into Entries (Ist Year as “new boys”, 2nd Year, Senior Entry etc) and each entry was split into existing Squadrons which was equivalent to the “House” system at School. We had four squadrons – A, B C and D – and I was in D squadron.

The first year cadets were the “low life” and we were housed in Barracks known as the South Brick Lines. The Senior Entry at the time was 91 Entry, and they were within 6 months of graduating as RAF Officers: they had all sorts of powers and privileges over the “low life”, and the infliction of this power was generally known as “crowing”. At the top of the tree were Senior Under Officers (like the school Head of House) supported by Under Officers (Monitors) for each Squadron: the Under Officers were chosen by the Cranwell hierarchy as those most likely to succeed based upon their performance during their cadetships.

Each Squadron had it’s own Drill Flight Sergeant – with a Sergeant looking after the first year cadets – and we, as the new Entry, were quickly introduced to the realities of early morning drills, parades, bed making, boot shining etc.

The College was run as an active RAF base and the Commanding Officer or Station Commander was a Group Captain, with a support staff. The station was basically split into three main groups – the Academics (the teaching staff for us as cadets), Operations (the Flying Instructors and ground crew needed to run the Chipmunks and the squadron of Jet Provost Trainer aircraft for the pilot training) and the Logistical (everything else needed to run a working RAF Station)

Apart from the College Building and surrounds and the airfield and hangars, there were educational and sports facilities and living quarters, and the Station was spread over a large area, with possibly 2000 personnel including cadets.

More information about Cranwell as it is now can be seen on the official RAF Cranwell Facebook page

A word about GDPs (Pilots)
As Flight Cadets at Cranwell, the greatest stress was undoubtedly on those who had been chosen as Pilots: theirs was a continuous and steep learning process and flying training in first the Chipmunks and then the Jet Provost trainer aircraft was a serious business. The main hurdles to overcome on the way included their relationship with their assigned Flying Instructor (QFI), the first solo flight – usually after 25-30 hours training – mastery of navigation, all weather flying (instruments only) and night flying: all the time their performance was being evaluated and under-achievement at any point in the process would mean failure. If the target was to become a “Top Gun” and qualify to fly strike/intercept aircraft such as the Lightning, Phantom F4, Buccaneer and the Harrier (and later the Tornado), the standards were exceptionally high and most trainee pilots would not make these standards.

The other non-GDP cadets, by contrast, did not have the same stress, and faced more academic challenges in the classrooms and so – in my view – had more of an opportunity to enjoy the unique experience offered by RAF Cranwell.

Graduation

The aim of the College was to roll out new Officers after two and a half years training, who would then either be assigned their first posting in their chosen Branch (RAF Regiment) or continue their training. GDPs and Navigators were posted to one of the many RAF stations operational at the time – either in the UK or abroad. The Secretarial and Supply Branch graduates spent an extra 6 months at Cranwell before being posted, and the Engineers stayed on at Cranwell for further training in either the Mechanical or Electrical speciality, the aim being to qualify with a BSc Honours Degree after a total of 4 years and 8 months.

The College Building

As can be seen from the photo, the College building was large and impressive: there were two wings – East and West – and two main floors, the top consisting mainly of accommodation and the CO’s office.

The main feature on the ground floor was a massive dining area (Mess Hall) which also hosted many special events, such as Mess Guest Nights, Summer Balls and Graduation Balls. On the same level were the kitchen, several large lounges, the Mess Bar, games rooms and other areas.

The large entrance Hall led out to the main steps and the Main Parade Ground, in front of which which was the “Orange”, and a large grass covered circular area which was ideal for entertainment and/or Sports: I was lucky enough to play cricket for the College on the Orange, which gives an idea of its size.

Behind the College was a large parking area, and sporting facilities which included Squash and Tennis Courts – both used regularly by myself!

College Personalities

There were two individuals who stood out for me while I was at Cranwell, and I do not mean fellow Flight Cadets. Both these individuals were Airmen and involved in our training.

The first was Warrant Officer Garbet. The highest rank for an airman is Warrant Officer, followed by the rank of Flight Sergeant. Warrant Officer Garbet was always immaculately turned out and probably the most powerful man at Cranwell, and I remember him saying one thing in particular to a Flight Cadet (it could have been to me – I don’t remember!) “The difference between you, Sir, and myself is that we both call each other Sir, but I don’t mean it”

The second person was Flight Sergeant Ken Adams the Drill instructor for D Squadron. His job was to turn an unruly and undisciplined rabble (us) into a well disciplined unit capable of drilling at the highest standard. On parade, we had polished boots, white belts and our own SLRs (Self Loading Rifle). Woe betide you if you did not concentrate 100%: a short man, he could be heard from over 100 yards away. One of his favourite sayings – often repeated to any cadet guilty of losing concentration – involved the words “..tearing off your arm and hitting you with the soggy end, Sir” – the last word being emphasized! I have to say, I actually enjoyed the drilling and I was once in the Colour Party (the group of four bearing the RAF Flag) as the Colour Officer on one occasion when D Squadron had that honour at one of the Parades.

Social Life

While we were at Cranwell, the “Sixties” era was in full swing and so we missed out on this culture: as cadets, we had short “back and sides” haircuts, and so were pretty conspicuous when we ventured outside the Station. However, in the depths of Lincolnshire, there was not much on offer for randy young men. Apart from the towns of Sleaford and Grantham (4 and 10 miles away) the nearest “cultural centre” was Nottingham, and London was 120 miles away down the A1. There were a number of local “ladies” educational colleges which were visited to a greater or lesser extent, and some of us (the minority) had existing girlfriends who were allowed to visit on occasion, which caused some jealousy as I recall (Pete Harding and John Waterfall spring to mind..)

As we progressed in our seniority at the College, more cadets could afford cars, and weekend passes could be obtained which relieved the social isolation

Trips and Exercises

As part of our cadet training the RAF organised some joint exercises outside the College. I remember three in particular.

Catterick Survival – A Bitter Experience.
The first was a Survival Exercise, designed to test our “mettle” in the outdoors: the venue was RAF Catterick in Yorkshire. The time of year was winter, and we were bussed to the North of England (early 1968 I think) when one of the coldest spells on record was in progress. Our mission was to set up tent in some remote area and basically survive for one or two days, with the most basic of provisions. I remember sleeping fully clothed and waking up in the morning with ice inside my boots. There were several casualties and cases of hypothermia in the “ranks”, and in retrospect, the Exercise should not have taken place.

Escape and Evasion – or Chicken and Chips?
The second exercise took place over a few days in North West Germany: we flew as a unit to RAF Gutersloh, and were then – if I am correct – assigned by Squadrons to various Army Regiments. Our hosts were the 22nd Field Artillery Regiment based in Dortmund, part of the British Army On The Rhine (BAOR). Their principle weapon was the Abbott Self propelled Gun – basically an amphibious tank – which was great fun to drive! The aim of the main exercise was to split our squadron into groups of 4 or 5 cadets, and, armed only with compasses and Ordnance Survey maps, we were dropped some 20 miles or so away from the Base with a view to returning on foot without being “captured” en route by the Army. In the same group as myself, as I remember it, was Prince Bandar, so monetary assistance was never in doubt. Our adventure included chicken and chips in one German pub, and part of the journey was by taxi: we were not caught, but I am pretty sure our solution was not what the organisers had in mind!

King Rock
Named after the Rock of Gibraltar, this exercise occurred for 96 Entry in the summer of 1967. Gibraltar has a resident colony of monkeys – colloquially known as “Rock Apes” – and this affectionate nickname was passed on to anyone serving in the RAF Regiment Branch, which is primarily responsible for airfield defence. I did not attend this particular exercise, for a reason that I cannot recall, but I can report that the two weeks exercise for 96 Entry consisted of one week of survival training which included canoeing in the Eider See and the other week concentrating on escape and evasion, with a one mile race with full backpacks thrown in for good measure.

Escorting Miss World Contestants
Definitely one of the highlights, the Organisers of the 1968 Miss World competition hosted in London had decided that they needed a bunch of fine young men to act as escorts for the contestants at the Dinner/Dance which followed the event: Cranwell was the lucky beneficiary, and an eager group of us attended – I think we stayed at the RAF Club. All the girls were stunning, but of course most of them had regular boyfriends, and so any form of romance was out of the question! I cannot remember which of the girls (or which country) I “escorted” but it was a fantastic experience for a young hot blooded and totally inexperienced young man!

The RAF Club 128 Piccadilly London

London was – and still is – the centre for so many cultural events, night-life and other forms of entertainment. To have the RAF club available to us in the middle of London as our personal “hotel” and at reasonable cost was a huge bonus. I used the splendid facilities there on many occasions.

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King’s School Canterbury

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Life at one the Oldest Public Schools

The King’s School, Canterbury is an English Public School located in the Precinct of Canterbury Cathedral in the County of Kent

In the ’60s, to enter Kings Canterbury – or any Public School – it was necessary to pass the Common Entrance Exam. Exceptionally bright pupils had the chance to win a Scholarship (which meant reduced fees) Most boys took the Exam when they were 13: I was 12, and did well – recording a very high mark of 81% for one particular subject French B which pleased the Headmaster at Kenton enormously because I was in his class for French. Although I did well, it was not quite good enough for a Scholarship.

When I joined the school, the Headmaster was Canon Fred Shirley. There were about 650 pupils at King’s and like Kenton, most were “Boarders ” and there were a number of different “Houses”. Each boy was assigned to a particular House after one year.

The first year was spent in one of two junior Houses which were in the main School Grounds – I remember my junior House was called Lattergate.

The school uniform was very distinctive in that we had to wear wing collars waistcoats and boaters (straw hats) and the complete uniform cost a fortune from the “Old School Shop” – located just outside the School Grounds, and run as a true monopoly. The Wikipedia link provided describes the school layout and the uniform in some detail, although nowadays it is a mixed school. With such a distinctive uniform we of course stood out like a “sore thumb” and were often targets for the inhabitants of the Town.

My assigned House after my first year was Luxmoore, which was reserved mostly for the boys whose parents were outside the UK. Luxmoore House actually consisted of two very large detached houses, close together, and had large grounds with its own playing field. Situated on the main Dover Road, about two miles south of the main school, we were every day expected either to walk or cycle to the main school for lessons, assembly etc. Luxmoore provided dormitories, catering and study facilities for all the 90 or so boys, and our House master was Mr K K Roberts (known as KK) who lived in a separate apartment with his rather attractive young wife.

At Kings, the privileges started in the final year when pupils reached the Sixth form, and the Head Boy and School Monitors (House Prefects) enjoyed extra privileges and wore black gowns – as did the teachers and pupils who had won scholarships. Monitors were also allowed to administer corporal punishment to other pupils and walk on the grass (“hallowed turf”) in the School Courtyards which were part of the Cathedral Grounds.

The school facilities as one would expect were impressive. Within the large grounds of the Cathedral precinct were most of the Houses and classrooms and other educational areas – such as a Library, various laboratories – and a gymnasium. The main Sports area was located some miles away, and catered primarily for Rugby (Kings was well known for its Rugby) Cricket and Athletics. There were also some squash courts and tennis courts in another area en route to the main playing fields.

Apart from all the academic and sporting facilities, we were of course living alongside the oldest cathedral in the country, and were obliged to attend cathedral services on a regular basis. The school also provided most of the Cathedral choir, and music played an important part in the curriculum. I can still remember the particular smell of the old damp walls from the Cathedral crypt on Sunday evenings ….

Arts or Science? After the first year, pupils had to make the choice as to which educational path they would take. Probably the most important choice we as pupils ever made, Arts consisted broadly of Languages, History and English, and Science broadly of Maths, Chemistry and Physics. The goal was then to pass intermediate Exams in either Arts or Science at age 14 or 15 (“O” Levels) and then to take the main University Entrance Exams at age 17 or 18 (“A” Levels) I chose Science, although in retrospect, I believe I would have done much better in Arts, for which I was naturally more talented. But even at the age of 13, I had the RAF in my mind as a possible career, and knew that Science would be more relevant.

CCF The Combined Cadet Force was available at Kings and we were provided uniforms and had some training and trips: naturally I joined the RAF section, and remember one visit to RAF Manston where I had my first flight in a Chipmunk – a trainer aircraft. I think the aim of the pilots was to make sure each cadet remembered the experience, and sure enough, after some aerobatics and the smell of the rubber mask, I remember throwing up in spectacular style! So much for my first taste of the RAF!

So What Went Wrong? You may well ask. With all the privileges available to me from one of the best schools in the country with fantastic and committed teachers and superb facilities, what was the problem? After all, I had been used to being away from home and family – I had spent the last four years at Boarding school in Kenya. And I had shown academic and sporting promise.

There were two main reasons. The first was my physical size. Some boys take longer than others to mature physically, and in a school like Kings, size was very important – both for sports (sporting prowess was highly acclaimed) and for establishing oneself within the “hierarchy”

The second was to do with money: Kings was a very expensive school with high fees, and it was the reason my mother continued working so hard in East Africa – she wanted her sons to go to the best school. (My father was not supportive) Most of my fellow pupils came from families where money was not a problem and some from very privileged backgrounds: and so “class” was an issue, and teenage boys are quick at sniffing out those “who don’t really belong” – and this was exactly how I felt: that I did not really belong.

Academic Achievements I passed my first six “O” Level exams at 13 and one year later had 9 science “O” Level passes: I had started well, and was probably one year ahead academically. But thereafter, my enthusiasm diminished. I took my first science “A” Levels at the age of 16 and failed one. The next year I passed all three – a B in mathematics, C in chemistry and a D in Physics – pretty average results which meant that I could apply to Universities like London or Bristol but had no chance with Oxford or Cambridge. This pretty much decided me that I should apply to RAF Cranwell.

Sporting Achievements I was not outstanding. I made the 3rd XI school cricket team – being the only player batting at number 11 who hit a “six” – and the house Rugby team. I tried my hand at Boxing, but when your opponent has a reach six inches longer than you, this can be tricky!

Friends Unlike Kenton, I only have one friend from Kings with whom I would stay in touch. Hugh Slater was one of those who travelled with me on a ski trip party to Ischgl in Austria at the end of the last term. I remember getting horribly drunk on whisky before we boarded the train at Victoria station. Hugh was a good guy (he liked to be called Hugo) and went to Magdalene College, Cambridge University: we met post school on a number of occasions, and he was the my best man at my first wedding in 1976. Unfortunately we have not remained in touch. A more detailed acount of life at the King’s School in my day and written by Anthony Marsall (who I do not remember) can be found on the OKS website.

Interesting People. Kings produced some very accomplished pupils who went on to do great things. On the cricketing front (my particular interest to this day) in my time there was Charles Rowe – who played for Kent – and a little later, David Gower who had a tremendous career in Test Cricket. Close to Luxmoore was one of the Kent County cricket grounds, with a large oak tree within the boundary – I spent many hours there watching the cricket. On the social front, one of the King’s pupils was Brian Faithfull, whose sister Marianne achieved her own notoriety. When I was at Kings the “Sixties” revolution was in full swing, but unfortunately it bypassed me completely – although we all played Rolling Stones records and smoked “illegally” – normal cigarettes not pot!

Worst Memory There is one memory that still haunts me to this day, although most people would not understand why. I was playing in the house Rugby team for Luxmoore – I was full back – and we had a strong team with some of the School 1st Team players. A scoring opportunity arose where I was on the right wing with a clear run to the try line, and the ball carrier was one of the 1st team members (Devlin I think his name was) Scoring a try would have been a huge triumph for me and would have made a big difference to my “standing”. But – and I think deliberately so – the boy concerned did not pass the ball and was tackled, and the opportunity lost. We did win the match but this was scant consolation to me at the time.

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Kenton College Nairobi

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Kenton College Prep School 1957 to 1961

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My early schooling was at a day school in Entebbe, Uganda – where I did well and from what I remember, we had some excellent teachers, including a Mrs Coyle.

I started my journey into institutional life when I was 8. When one spends most of the formative and teenage years away from home and family, this can be a difficult period, and assumes a great importance in later life because you have to learn to survive, and the survival techniques learnt tend to shape your character.

Kenton College was and still is located in Nairobi in Kenya.

When I was a pupil, the headmaster was The Rev C.E.Birks. The school was a Prep School catering for boys from the ages of 8 to approx 13. It was situated in about 35 acres of land and had excellent sports facilities. At the time, the school was for boys only, and it was established for the education of sons of the “Colonials” from surrounding countries still under British rule or influence – Uganda, Kenya, Rhodesia, South Africa, etc

From memory, the school uniform consisted of grey shorts and jacket, with long grey socks with a purple stripe, and a tie with the same purple “motif”

As was the norm with schools at the time, the pupils (about 100) were split into different “Houses” – or teams. Bongo, Oryx and Kudu were the three names I remember, each being a type of African buck or antelope. I was a Bongo man!

Which brings me to one of my lasting memories – which was the train journey from Kampala in Uganda to Nairobi in Kenya.

This was a fantastic trip: there were always at least 10 boys – under the control of one adult (usually a teacher) – and we slept in the train because the journey took about 48 hours. The countryside and scenery was pretty amazing – much of the railway followed the Rift Valley – and we could see elephants and a variety of animals in the wild – sometimes very close to the train because there were no boundaries. We passed through a number of towns and villages on the way, where we could get local food and other items offered through the train window.

Kenton was a happy school for me – I did not feel out of place and all the boys shared the same background and/or “social standing”: we were all pretty much equal. As was common place in schools at the time, we addressed each other by surname. And of course we all missed home and our parents, but this was unavoidable, and so we made the best of it.

My particular memories of my time at Kenton were:

Dormitory Farting. We slept in dormitories and as you would expect with a group of boys together there were competitions as to the loudest/longest fart. One boy was the outright winner, and his speciality was setting light to the offending gas. His name was Boucher. He was from either Rhodesia or South Africa, and good at cricket, and I believe he was related to Mark Boucher, the wicket keeper in the 1990s for the South African Test cricket team.
Good Friends I had a number of close friends but the closest was Simon Hart. We were vying all the time for first place academically and sports-wise. He had an older brother, Robert, and I remember staying with his family for a few days in their wonderful home in Nakuru. Simon only had one flaw – he picked his nose (ok, we all do…) but then he ate the proceeds.. Another good friend was Nick Browne, whose father was “high up” in one of the East African Oil giants (Shell or BP) and was therefore well connected. This led directly to me experiencing a few days with the Madhvani family – millionaires from India – who controlled the soap industry in Uganda. Their lifestyle was different to anything I had experienced before and their “ranch” near Jinja was probably on 500 acres, with cars available to drive for anyone – even the children.
Firework Tragedy There were two brothers at Kenton with me called Pakenham Walsh, both really nice boys, quietly spoken and popular. Every November 5th the school put on a Fireworks display, and any parents who were able to come were invited. One particular Guy Fawkes night, a spark landed in a box containing rockets, igniting the entire box. One of the rockets struck the boy’s father, Mr Pakenham Walsh, in the head. Unfortunately it was fatal: I had only been a few yards away and had witnessed the tragedy at first hand.
Roller Skating and Marbles The school had a large tarmacked courtyard, which was excellent for two things: one was the game of British Bulldog using roller skates and the other was playing marbles. I became pretty good on the skates, and enjoyed playing marbles (some times called “nyabs” but I have no idea why)
Snakes Antlions and Chameleons In such a large space inside the school grounds on the outskirts of Nairobi, there were bound to be some dangers: the snake that was the most dangerous was the spitting cobra and there were occasional sightings, but generally speaking they avoided human contact. An interesting insect which could be caught and put into a container filled with sand or loose earth was the antlion. As boys we used to collect antlions, which then made their conically shaped traps in the soil, and we waited for the next unfortunate ant to fall into the cone. And a chameleon was a fascinating creature and could be easily caught, and kept as a pet.
Corporal Punishment As was common at the time in Boarding Schools, corporal punishment was the ultimate deterrent. At Kenton College, this was usually administered to the backside by a master, either with a gym shoe or a cane. The resulting “weals” or bruises were a source of pride rather than shame, and afterwards displayed to one’s fellow schoolmates. It did happen to me on occasion, and in my opinion, did no long-lasting harm. If you “crossed the line” at school, and were caught, then a caning was on the cards, and you knowingly took that risk. It was preferable to being expelled.
Entertainment This was the 1950s and before TV, and so entertainment was organised within the school – with Plays and Theatre productions and singing. I remember that I had my first part in a School Play and sang solo one verse of “In the deep mid- Winter” for one Xmas Carols concert – my introduction to amateur Theatre!
Test Match Cricket My favourite entertainment was provided through a small transistor Radio given to me by my parents – it could receive the Test Match cricket live commentary, and so late at night I could listen to how the England cricket team were doing on the other side of the world. Cricket was very important to most of us……
School Trips We did not make many school trips, but one that stands out for me again involves Cricket. In about 1960, the MCC was touring East Africa, with “Fiery” Fred Trueman in the team, one of England’s greatest fast bowlers. The match we were lucky enough to see was against a local Kenya side. I remember the Home team were down to the last batsman and Fiery Fred was bowling. The Number 11 was a tall Sikh, wearing the traditional turban: the first ball was despatched for a mighty Six. The second ball very nearly removed the turban, and the third ball (a yorker) shattered the stumps.
Cubs and Boy Scouts The Baden Powell legacy was very strong in Colonial Africa, and I had been a “cub” before I joined the school. where we had a thriving Boy Scout group – the next level up. This was fun and something to do outside the normal school curriculum. Apart from learning how to start fires and experience basic survival training, we also tried to master campfire cooking…

More information about Kenton with photos can be viewed from Pete Goddard an ex-pupil and Old Kentonian who was at Kenton some years later than myself.

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Family Homes 1962 to 1980

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London Bath Bristol and Rhodesia

After returning to the UK with some capital, my parents invested wisely in some long lease London properties in Belgravia – first in Chester Row and then in Eaton Terrace – followed by Lyncombe Hill in Bath – and whilst living in the properties, they devoted their energies to improving, redecorating and modernising each until they had enough money circa 1964/65 to buy my mother’s dream home – Acacia House, Chew Magna Near Bristol (in Somerset)

This was a large house with spacious cellars and many bedrooms, with it’s own grounds, and orchard, sloping down to the local small river. I remember the purchase price was £9000 and for my mother. this was what she had been waiting for since the end of the War – her own country house in the UK.

However, the dream was not to last. Money was still tight, and my father had secured a job in Bristol working for Harveys, and my mother had a job working as PR Officer for GB Brittons – a shoe manufacturer with a factory near Bristol. But she was not at all happy with her life at the time and had started drinking – to such an extent that she lost her job and was hospitalised for a period.

Following this experience, her sister Iris, who had also “upped sticks” to Africa with her family after her husband (Bam) had died – suggested that she come out to Rhodesia (later Zimbabwe) to recuperate. To cut a long story short – after a few months my mother told my father that if he wanted to see her again he would have to sell the house and come to Rhodesia – which he duly did in 1970 (or thereabouts).

Whilst I never lived in Rhodesia for long (my longest trip was 3 months) I did get to know and love the country, and I had the chance to make a number of trips because I was no longer in the RAF, and therefore in charge of my own destiny.

My parents now lived in Salisbury (now Harare), and did the same thing as they had done so successfully in London – “doing up” one house and then moving to another. My father managed to get another Pensions Department job (I know he falsified his age to qualify) and they were much better off financially with better facilities and servants than in Uganda, and my mother’s drinking was under control.

Rhodesia had a different climate to Uganda and had a different topography – with some highland areas. Like Uganda, it had Game Reserves and lakes and was a wonderful place to live if you enjoyed sporting activities and the outdoor life – which I did! Two of my cousins lived there at the time – Robin (Iris’ second son) and Jackie (daughter of my mother’s third sister Rita). Robin was in the property business and had a horse ranch just north of Salisbury, and Jackie was married to Chris Dunn, a local farmer and professional jockey. It was where I learnt to ride, which culminated in taking one of Robin’s racehorses (Brigadier was the name of the horse) round the local Salisbury race track at full gallop. I am certain that Health and Safety would not have approved, but I loved the experience.

In 1965, Rhodesia had declared UDI under Prime Minister Ian Smith against the wishes of the UK Government. In 1970, it declared itself a Republic. Whilst my parents were there and during my visits, there were incidents of insurgence and armed conflict: most of the “white” males were involved in the Army – and at least two of my previous colleagues at RAF Cranwell – Ian Rodwell and Richard Calder 96 D – were actively involved in the Rhodesian Airforce.

I have many fond memories of Rhodesia, but with Independence in 1979/1980, my parents returned to the UK.

And that was the end of my life in Africa, although I have since visited or holidayed in South Africa and North Africa.

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The First 12 Years – 1949 to 1962

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My Parents

My Parents met in the Second World War. Theirs was a classic wartime romance, which began in Egypt circa 1943.

My father Charles (born 1915) was an RAF Bomber pilot on 55 Squadron – flying Baltimores – and he saw action in North Africa, Malta and Sicily.

My mother Jean (born 1921) was a WREN (Royal Navy) serving first in Portsmouth and then in about 1943 making the arduous trip by Destroyer to North Africa where she took up her post in Egypt.

They were married in 1946 – the war had been over for a year, but work was hard to find in the UK’s shattered post-war economy. Having tried their luck at farm life in Surrey, and found that it was not producing enough money, they made the decision to join the “Colonial Service” in Africa where jobs were available in local Government and the salary – which included compensation for overseas postings – was reasonable for the time.

In 1947, my father shipped out to his first posting in the “Gold Coast” now Ghana, leaving my mother behind in the care of her family, who lived in the Somerset and Devon area.

In 1948 he was back in the UK, and I was “on the way”. In about 1950, I was aged one, and my mother took me with her to begin our new adventure in Africa.

Comment

My father had good qualities and bad. He was born in Essex and somewhere in his family tree, there was the surname Noble, and an Italian ancestor called Carlo Duce who allegedly was a versatile pianist who played professionally in the nineteenth century.

Unfortunately, my father did not inherit any musical talent. He was intelligent and a natural engineer – of the Jack of All Trades variety – and could fix almost anything – although some “fixes” could be a little Heath Robinson. This was a good quality, and he passed on this knowledge to me together with his interest in games and learning. His favourite sport was Tennis.

However, he had a temper and was incapable of being diplomatic – something which damaged his chances for advancement in the RAF and the Colonial Service. Also, he was competitive with his own sons, and found it very difficult to give praise.

My mother came from an “upper middle class” family in South West England, with a strong Royal Naval tradition: her father was the RN Commander for Naval Defences at Plymouth in WW2, and both she and her brother served in the Navy during the war. When my mother was growing up, the family owned the Pentire Hotel in Newquay, Cornwall and so life was comfortable.

Her maiden name was Martin, and in her family tree was the name McKay, and so there was an ancestral connection with Scotland. As a child, she loved dance and performing, and in later life her passion was painting with water colours. She had a natural ability for dress making and designing costumes. Her skills as an interior decorator, together with my father’s handyman qualities, made a good business combination in later life, by buying, “doing up” and reselling homes.

She was a good mother, always putting her children first and defending them where necessary.

However, there was not a great deal in common between my parents, and if at the time divorce had been easier and not so much of a social stigma, I believe my mother would have left my father as soon as her children were independent. Theirs was not a loving relationship, she was not happy, and she turned to alcohol before she was 50.

Where we lived 1948 to 1962

I was born in Dorking Surrey at the end of 1948, and shortly afterwards my mother took me to the Gold Coast to be with my father. I don’t remember much about Ghana: we lived in Takoradi, about 120 miles from the capital Accra, and my father worked in the Government office at the port. The roads were made of murram, and I particularly recall watching from the car rear window the clouds of dust generated as we drove along these roads.

One of the pets we had in the house (colonial style bungalow) was Bambi – a very tame deer or small buck. And of course, my constant companion was Toby, the English wire-haired Fox Terrier who came with us from the UK.

After nearly two years, we returned to the UK because my mother was pregnant again – Robert was born in November 1952. During this time (1952/1953) we lived with my mother’s family in the West Country – good old fashioned country houses with large open fires, and with outside barns which were of great interest to myself and Toby.

One day Toby and I went a little too far and I remember falling down a wooded slope – in a small forest – and not being able to climb out again. We were there for several hours until it began to get dark, but Toby never left me, and kept barking until rescue arrived: I had sparked a local search and rescue, and remember to this day the rather worried and disapproving face of my grandfather, a retired RN Commander.

When my brother was old enough, it was 1954/55 and we travelled together to meet my father who had taken up his next Posting in Uganda. I think this time we travelled with BOAC (now British Airways) – in an Argonaut or Comet – with a stopover in Cairo.

So the family started a new adventure in Entebbe, Uganda – which lasted six years until Uganda achieved Independence. Entebbe Airport was in July 1976 later to be the scene of the notorious hijacking and the rescue raid carried out by the Israeli special forces.

My early Life in Uganda

Life in Africa was totally different to life in the UK. Uganda is very close to the Equator, which meant a hot climate with a lot of insects and wild animals and reptiles. Sleeping at night required mosquito nets: at the time (1955) electricity was available but it was necessary to have back-up lighting – torches and gas-lamps.

Our first home in Entebbe was a small bungalow very close to the lake (Lake Victoria) so insects were more of a problem – especially at night. The mosquitoes were large and noisy – Malaria was a risk, as was Bilharzia a nasty parasite carried by snails and flatworms, which also infected fish. Another unappreciated event was the regular nocturnal visits by Hippos to our garden, where they proceeded to eat the flowers – my mother was extremely upset when her best rose bushes were vandalised. Hippos are big and powerful and not particularly friendly – especially if you block their escape route to water….

After some months, we were able to move into a larger property in Church Road – the centre of Entebbe and away from the lake. This was our home for most of our time in Uganda, and I remember we had a large garden and a view of Entebbe airport. Being able to watch all manner of planes landing and taking off was fascinating for me.

My father had a position in the Uganda Pensions Department, and my mother’s first job in Uganda was as Cipher Officer at Government House – a job for which her previous wartime experience was invaluable. She later became a Ground Hostess for BOAC at the airport.

Uganda’s social hierarchy was generally pretty much the same as in all the East African Colonies at the time – white people were in Government administration, Indian people were the business backbone (all the stores and shops were run by Indians and their families) and the native population pretty much continued life as before. Most Europeans had servants because wages were low – I remember we had at least one “houseboy” and one cook and one “gardenboy” at any one time, and their families stayed in the servant quarters on the property.

Sailing from the UK to Africa The most memorable trip for me as a child occurred in about 1960. We had a small family car in Uganda (a Hillman Minx – I still remember the registration number as UFN647) and now that they had some financial stability, my parents had decided to return to the UK for a short time – staying with family – and my father had his eye on a new car – a FIAT 1800. The return journey from the UK was to be by sea with the new car on the passenger ship. the SS Uganda to Mombasa in Kenya stopping at Gibraltar, Naples, Port Said, Aden, and Mombasa.

This sea trip took about 3 weeks, and the port visits lasted one or two days so that it was possible to explore. As a family, we “checked out” Gibraltar, Naples and Rome, Port Said (which was close to where my parents were stationed in WW2) and visited some friends in Aden.

The best was yet to come – a true Boy’s Own adventure! Mombasa is the main sea port for Kenya. and about 500 miles from Entebbe. So, with our new car and all our luggage, we drove from Mombasa to Entebbe, passing over atrocious roads, through game reserves, close to the Rift Valley and staying overnight at lodges on the way. It took 3 days and was a fantastic experience for an 11 year old boy. One particular incident involving my father stands out in my memory to this day: we were approaching a game lodge where we were to stay the night somewhere in Northern Kenya. At the side of the road, no more than 50 metres away was a large elephant, and near the elephant a sign saying “Do NOT get out of your Car” My father ignored the sign, got out of the car, and approached the elephant. To this day, I do not know what he was trying to prove, but when the elephant looked in his direction. raised his ears and proceeded to make “I am about to charge” signals, my father thought better of it – thank God! And there were no mobile phones at the time to summon help….

Freedom I remember that for me the best part of this period in my life was the freedom I enjoyed: with my trusty Raleigh bicycle, I could be miles from home, sometimes with a “gang” of other boys, sometimes alone, and could explore to my heart’s content. One of my favourite past-times was building model aircraft (usually Airfix) and then blowing them up with bangers (fireworks). I had an air rifle (a very underpowered Diana Model 1 as I recall) and spent hours making and using catapults and other destructive weapons. I am afraid that some of the things I got up to as a child were not always praiseworthy – for example, in the large garden was a large hedge which separated the neighbours from us, and this hedge got exceptionally dry during the summer months. The “game” was to set fire to the hedge in a controlled manner and then extinguish the blaze before it got out of hand. Of course, one day the blaze took over and destroyed the entire hedge: my parents and the neighbours were not pleased.

What about snakes? Yes, there were snakes – some harmless and some quite the opposite, but generally they were not to be seen. And there were other fascinating creatures like giant butterflies, large hornets, tarantulas (spiders) antlions, chameleons. And the most amazing bird life, with vivid plumage.

My first feelings for the opposite sex also started: I remember the girl’s name even today. Julie Saunders. I was about 10 and one day – with younger brother in tow – I paid a visit to her house and let myself in, uninvited. Luckily her parents were not at home, but the romance was not reciprocated!

1962 was the end of this fantastic experience in Uganda: I had started school in the UK and as luck would have it, Uganda became independent at about the same time, which meant that my parents were out of a job and back in the UK.

The First 12 Years – 1949 to 1962 Read More »