Flights of fancy

My first ambition was to be a pilot. "Biggles" was my hero as a youngster, and I dreamed, then, of sharing magnificent aerial adventures with him and "Algy" and the rest of the squadron.
Not for me the smelly, dirty trains that rattled through our country town. I made paper planes during class at primary school, balsa wood cut-out glider kits later, than balsa-framed and tissue- covered models with real propellors and twisted rubber bands for power.
One day, aged 12, I cycled 12 miles to the nearest aerodrome for my first flight, complete with 10 shillings and my box Brownie. Soon, fitted with leather pilot's cap and plugged into the air-powered inter-com system I set off into the atmosphere in the somewhat lonely front cockpit of the Tiger Moth of my dreams.
It was wonderful, that first flight - fresh air on the face, lovely noisy engine, much vibration, half-understood messages from the pilot, and “awesome” views restricted by my lack of size.
I had to hold my camera out the side, and out of view, to get my pictures, but I persevered. The shock came at the 10-minute mark when my back-seat friend announced he was going to help me get my pictures. . . . . We dived on fishing boats, we banked sharply so I could see what I was clicking at, and my stomach started to threaten revolution. All that time I wasn't game to admit that I'd used all my film before that performance started. Worst thing was that the plane's vibration rendered the final prints as a massive blur!
That Tiger Moth flight was the high point (sorry) of my aeronautical career. For National Service, much later, I pre-selected Air Force first, Navy second and Army last. I served in khaki, of course. Later, I tried gliding and that's a really pleasant way to take to the air - provided you don't worry too much about the lack of engine, that is.
Trouble was that I was never able to find the airstrip after launching, and my instructor suffered from airsickness and thus strove valiently to avoid "thermals", so that hobby didn't last long.
The last burst of my flying fever" emerged in my 20s, during my first away-from-home job.I built and flew a series of powered model aircraft for a while, but that didn't last any longer than the morning my landlady discovered I'd seriously scored the laminex top of her kitchen table during a late night building project.
I’ve been at ground level, mostly, ever since!
“Sorry Biggles.”