The Reward for Patience...


 There probably aren't that many photographs of stubble fires taken by someone leaning over the cockpit edge of a soaring T21 transiting cross-country. Definitely not your ordinary ho-hum Friday afternoon, as smouldering bits waft past us from the fiery field below, but our hopes are justified. You could call it a case of hope rising again from the ashes!
Another quarter of an hour revolving up to and at 6,000 ft brings on further penetration of the cold, and a degree of queasiness, possibly linked.
Looking down on the fire!
We are just about clear of the airway, and, Joy and Relief - there's Inkpen. I can't wait for us to descend . my jaw has stopped working, and isn't even joining in the violent shivers. I am less than enthusiastic when Mike says, "Let's go on to Lasham, we've over 3,500 ft in hand". With every chance of a triumphant arrival at Lasham in the Nympsfield T 21, Mike very kindly foregoes that in view of my condition, calls up Inkpen base, pulls out the spoilers, and makes a steep descent.
The flight has taken 2¼ hours. When the locals get over their surprise at seeing us, they push us off the landing area. Mike is clearly beaming at the achievement, and I'm put in a car with the heater going. In the clubhouse I am given a hot cup of coffee. It was some time before I could speak normally. Quite a trip, but one pleasure is yet to come... A beaming staff instructor, P1 on the T21

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