Lots of mentions for good chums and family, comment on politicians' failure, more fun than seriousness and tinctures for all...
Happy day !*ahem*, but err that's a Spitfire, not a Lanc ...(a pedant writes)
Nick,I thought someone would notice that just after I'd pressed the print button..., but you're of course right!Actually, when I was more irresponsible than I am now, many years years ago, the rugby club team I played with used to leave the club room bar (later than late after a cold, wet match and subsequent partaking of warming ales...)with their arms out like wings and singing the song!Bloody kids today...
Fly, birdie, fly..... but for God's sake no crash landings!!
I have a kit of the Cutty Sark!
You didn't used to play Lancasters, did you, Scrobs?one of those oh-so-funny Services wind-ups for new subalterns etcthe one-pip wonder would be wined and dined, then told a game of Lancasters was next - everyone lay belly-on-the-deck (or ventre a terre as they say in France), arms outstretched, dambustering away like madthen the poor unfortunate would be jumped, pinned to the ground by his outstretched arms and shocking degradations administered (oh to be 19 again, on £3.60 a day, vodka at 60 pfennigs a shot, bottle of crap sekt 3 DM...)
Blimey its amazing what happens if you peek . A gorgeous beast scrob .....I have had a similiar rugby experience on numerous occassions
I sometimes see a Spitfire fly over... they are instantly recognisable from the sound alone...
Nick D, Lancasters sounds hilarious! With a little thought, I could just try and recall the stupidest things we used to do...Possibly a new post...Newmania; you got any ideas?
Wonderful photo, part of the Great British history. It's sad to think that the guy's who flew these wouldn't even recognize the world we live in today, would they?Any way Scroblene I'm back kind of. I've had surgery on left hand with some tendon transfer and all that good stuff, I'm on the road to recovery and will be blogging again soon, thank you so much for your concern, It's really appreciated, believe me.My regards to one and all!H
Hi Scrobs: Do hope your "procedure" went ok, bet you had all the nurses in "stitches", he he ! Sorry about that but Ì`m bored.We met a rather old, sozzled German, whilst on holiday in The Canaries, a few years ago. He clearly wasn`t much impressed with the British and went to great lengths to say how, when he was fighting on the Russian front, in WW2, he single handedly shot down a Spitfire and captured the Pilot! What`s more he was personally decorated by "Ze Furrher". "How interesting, said Mr Trube, I didn`t think they could fly that far without stopping in Berlin to re-fuel !Later on at Dinner, a duo consisting of an accordianist and a violinist were serenading the guests at each table,(bearing in mind we were the only British couple in the Hotel), the rest were ancient Germans, the duo stopped at our table and asked if we`d like to make a request."Yes piped up Darling Trubes, how about the theme from "Dad`s Army" you know the one, "Who do you think your kidding Mr Hitler"? Well, the Duo were in hysterics, along with ourselves, whilst the surrounding "Teutonics" stared at us blankly, not remotely amused, the more they stared, the more we chortled!We didn`t care as we were on our Honeymoon and that was almost 20 years ago. Oh "Golden Days".We`re playing it safe this time and going to Provence in October, to celebrate our special Anniversary !For some reason or other, one doesn`t encounter many Germans down there!
Herc!You're back again and well met too!So glad the reorganisation of the drinking requirements (hands), are well advanced, and expected to be on pints very soon! The additional weights of pints are a necessity! (A pint weighs 1.25 pounds plus glass, and every time you lift same to the lips, you are burning .5 of a calorie)!Dead right - possibly wrong term - about our pilots though. There's a splendid book by Larry Forrester about Wing Commander Bob Stanford-Tuck, who was my childhood hero...perhaps still is, and he was an ace in Spitfires and Hurricanes.They all got pissed like everyone else, because the probability was then that they may not be in the pub the following night...Still an evocative subject isn't it.But you're on the mend, and that's the main thing! Keep going eh?
Trubers!Fantastic yarn, and certainly one of the famous ones you'll remember forever! Love the Teutonic bit! D'ya remember the scenes in 'Those Magnificent men in their flying machines', when they flagpoled every morning? Mrs S and I still have tears of mirth in the eyes at all this. In fact, now you've started it, I'm going to drag out the steamer trunk of VHSs and see if it's still there... there's bugger all on this weekend!20 years eh...? Many Congrats, as that's a milestone (not a millstone...), to measure and look forward to. Have a great time.
Lucien...Not burning boats are we ;0)
Muts...The engine was the most evocative sound of the sky then apparently. We live in the old 'Bomb Alley', and the map shows loads of bombs fell near here. There's a website devoted to unexploded bombs in London, and it seems that there is still about 10% of the stuff dropped, unexploded...Bugger me, is that the time...
Nick,A chum said once that when he was in the RAF, they would take horses into the Mess, with hilarious consequences.Was that you by any chance?
Was never in the RAF although for various reasons have spent a lot of time in RAF messesUnnatural thing about Crab messes (for a Pongo, more used to a mess with 35 members, every one at least a personal acquaintance if not a mucker) is that they have hundreds of members, many of whom don't inevitably know each other but when they go on a rampage (e.g. a wake for a pilot, which happens not infrequently) it is pandemoniumI was once in residence when the base commander (a Group Captain) went into the deck, and the wake was on a formidable scale (2 wakes, in fact, one in the field and one back in the mess), it was scary stuffthe Mess Rugby can be quite a spectacle as well: 100-a-side (before the injuries start taking their toll) in vast dining-rooms
Srobs: It`s along time since I watched "Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines" but have got old Trubes on the case to find us a copy . I do recall it being extremely funny tho`, so looking forward to watching it again !Incidentally, is your hand ok now ? You may have picked up on fellow "Blogging chum`s Sites that I am laid up with a Slipped Disc, so you have my sympathy re pain etc. I can deal with the pain but cannot stand the boredom ! xxx
Morning Trubes!Slipped discs are really nasty. Both Mrs S and I had the same problem some years ago. They bloody well hurt, and you have my full sympathy.Have they got you doing the exercises like lying down, stretching one leg right over the other one and twisting your top half in the opposite direction? It sounds odd, (and may be somewhat interesting for Mr Trubes), but it does make a difference.Also the one where you lie on the floor and loop both legs over a broomstick which is laid across two chairs. This opens up the discs and takes the pressure off the nerve.Also, just hanging from the door, or stairs (by your hands of course...) eases it a bit.You can tell I'm not a doctor, but I certainly know that anything which lessens the pain is good news.My southpaw is fine thank you, it was given a clean bill of health by the Doc, and also by little dog who has cleaned it all up beautifully!
Glad you are on the mend Scrobs...I know two living Spitfire pilots who are brothers ..the younger one got remarried three years ago at 89...!
I bid you a fond farewell... but just for a little while. I feel the calling of foreign parts.
Lucien, thanks, and travel safely!
Well done scrobsd, hope the repairs are satisfactory and the rusty bits were properly jenolite-d.
They flew a Spitfire every day over our campsite, Scrobs. A fantastic sight and glorious sound. I had to celebrate each lunchtime by imbibing a couple of pints of the Shephard Neam brew of the same name at the local hostelry.
Did you know there are words to that tune. I used to sing the alto part in our school choir. There wasn't a dry eye in the house!
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