So see the Green Padock,
Here he sits,
In the crack,
Near the drain.
Wracked with his own peculiar
Froggy pain.
Neither flying,
Nor working.
But still in the South.
Rooted.
Down at mouth.
Without an aeroplane.
Yesterday which which started out with so much joy, brightness and hope soon turned into a hiatus, within a sun tanning session, to a tedium heat induced delirium wracked failure to fly.
Arrived at the airfield to pick up the aircraft at 12:00 hrs. It had been scheduled for hourly maintenance in the morning, (an oil, change, oleo checks that sort of thing) to find the propeller off, the cowling disassembled and two angst filled aircraft engineers removing the magneto. "It failed the mags check, we are just removing the magneto to look at it. Come back back at 13:00 hrs and it should be good to fly".
More coffee and a tuna sandwich followed by more coffee and still no word from the hangar. Have a look in the hangar where one sweating, and shame faced engineer now tells us that one of the bolts holding the magneto sheared and that he is struggling to turn and remove the head still blocking the thread, so I get on the phone to C16 to say I expect a departure at +- 16:00 hours, still good enough to get to Perth Scotland by 19:30 hours. That good man then offers to meet me, and my friend and other flying partner in committing aviation, at Perth airfield, and take us to a suitable hostelry where we can all sup and perhaps raise a glass.
The Gods did not smile upon us, and by 15:30, although the bolt had been fixed, the prop re-attached, spark plugs back in, the engine was still stuttering and spluttering. The heat was beginning to sap my will to live and I was also beginning to be beset by a growing unease about taking a post maintenance aircraft with a gremlin on a long flight without an hour or two flying within close proximity of the runway lest the donkey decide not continue pulling, and thus sadly I canned the flight, which was the right decision as by the time 16:00 hrs came, the aircraft was disassembled again.
So here I sit stuck today, looking at the low cloud and clag, down here, wishing I was up there, in Scotland!
The only bright spot yesterday afternoon, hot sunshine aside, was meeting up with a charming 45 year old Irish musician and music teacher, who had just passed his RT test and had that faraway look, lost in thrall to aviation, akin to the one Toad of Toad Hall had when he sat mumbling" poop poop", addicted to his beloved performance motor car. His skills test is booked for two weeks time and he is a minor celebrity having turned his Cessna completely turtle, pointy tail down in the grass, after a bounce and and a gusty crosswind proved more than his growing skill could handle. That he and his instructor shrugged this off, is a credit to him and their will to succeed. Good luck to you Stephen, you are good bloke!
