 
My Personal Bucket List

### © Copyright 2018 by Terry Aspinall

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ISBN: 9781370484782

Published by Terry Aspinall

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Dedication

I would like to mention a few people who have helped mould me into the person I am today (2018). Firstly, my Mother and my Father, along with friends Paul Defane (New Zealand Musician), Rick Sparks (after leaving School we knocked around together), Tootsie Lawrence (who talked me into joining the Royal Marines), Ray Callahan (Musician who taught me how to play Bass Guitar), John McVie (Bass player who helped with advice), David Cook (Pilot) and his wife Catherine (Teacher), Pete Bowden (Hang Glider Pilot), Hans Van Oyen (Musician, we gigged together for 30 years), Ben Wright (Musician), Snowy, Mel and Sharpie (Hang Glider Pilots) Graeme Henderson (Hang Glider pilot, and historic researcher, for keeping me honest), and a special thank you to my sponsor, dearest Emily my wife.

Parts of this book have been taken from my Autobiography 'Almost Total Recall'.

Introduction

In June (2018) I will be 75 years old, and I have just been asked by a close friend if I have completed or at least made a 'Bucket List'. The truth is I had never thought about it. In fact, until it came out as a film a couple of years ago, I had no idea what a 'Bucket List' was.

After a little research I have concluded that the term 'Bucket List', is a list of all the goals you would like to achieve, dreams you want to fulfil and life experiences you desire to experience before you die.

Having already experienced a lot of travel during the 60's, 70's and 80's, I have no further plans of places of interesting that I would like to visit. Instead I have concluded that as of now, I would like my 'Bucket List' to comprise of some of my personal Achievements. A long with the meeting and introduction of famous or well-known people from around the world. The latter being helped along by the computerised digital media that has certainly taken the world by storm and helped make it possible for all of us.

I'm assuming that many of these have only been possible since the late 1980's. Although for me, I have only owned a computer since 1994.

I'm very proud of all my Achievements, although many of them were planned, others came about by fate. I have added a 'Time Line' in a later chapter called 'Achievements'.

I'm also aware that I have experienced several accidents and 'Near Misses', as we call them. Having concluded that I have definitely used up all my so-called quota of Nine sorry 'Eleven Lives'. Therefore, I have also decided to add a 'Time Line' list of those I survived.

While I was attending Combs Ford Primary School one of the female teachers had read the 'Autobiography of a Super Tramp' to my class, over a several weeks. Even though it was an American story, it became one of my long-term goals to one day write my own 'Autobiography'. For some reason even, the word 'Autobiography' became a word that was well and truly imbedded in the back of my brain. It was just something I wanted to do, and probably the first long word I ever remembered. Although I must confess that how I was going to write it never a cured to me at the time. Maybe I was ahead of my time, in for seeing computers and being able to dictate into them. Although to just tell people that was what you wanted to do, sounded like you could just click your fingers and complete the task in a couple of days.

TABLE OF CONTENT

Copyright

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter 1 - Swimming

Chapter 2 - Edinburgh to Marble Arch

Chapter 3 - Royal Marine Commando

Chapter 4 - Sir Winston Churchill's funeral

Chapter 5 - Love of Music

Chapter 6 - Touring Germany

Chapter 7 - Dunwich Cliffs

Chapter 8 - Microlight Distance Record

Chapter 9 - Woburn Abbey

Chapter 10 - Advance Foods

Chapter 11 - Autobiography

Chapter 12 - Correcting History

Chapter 13 - Stowmarket Nursery

Chapter 14 - Thrashing Machine

Chapter 15 - Guy Fawkes Rock

Chapter 16 - Learning to Swim

Chapter 17 - Dodgem Cars

Chapter 18 - Motor Bike Shop

Chapter 19 - Pushing My Luck

Chapter 20 - The Cromer Rotor

Chapter 21 - Helicopter Near Miss

Chapter 22 - Parachute Malfunction

Chapter 23 - Lockerbie

Other books by this Author

http://www.terryaspinall.com

http://www.royal-marines.net

### Chapter1

Swimming

I was never a football or cricket player, but I did take to the water like a duck. Having an outdoor swimming pool close to where I lived, attracted me whenever possible. Enabling me with the skills to compete at local swimming competitions. Later I represented my school, the Stowmarket Secondary Modern, the Stowmarket Swimming Club, and later the Royal Marines. I still have four Medals I won representing the 779 Squad Royal Marines while under training at Deal during 1962 (two firsts, and two seconds). While later in Singapore I still have a couple of Cups I won representing 40 Commando.

During my last couple of years at school l always wanted to visit Singapore. Having seen a local teenager having joined the Merchant Navy and returning from Singapore wearing a beautiful silk embroidered jacket. That's what I wanted.

Chapter 2

### Edinburgh to Marble Arch

1959. December. One night while watching the television news I saw an article about Dr Barbara Moore, a Russian born Dietician who had walked from Edinburgh to Marble Arch, a distance of 395 miles. Completing the task in seven days and twelve hours, to claim some sought of record, while surviving on her specially prepared vegetarian diet. A challenge was then offered by a garage owner in Staffordshire to beat her time. Anyway, it was all big news in those days and everybody was talking about it. Later that same Monday evening I went along to the Cosy Café in town, having changed its name from the Warming Pan. Meeting up with Harry Powell who was in the RAF at the time and stationed at nearby RAF Wattisham. Harry had also seen the news report on the television and was very interested in the subject. A conversation developed between us and we both agreed that we could beat Dr Moore's time. By Wednesday that week, we had made up our minds and decided to have a crack at the record, so I got some details from the newspapers and started making a few arrangements.

My employer allowed me to take two weeks holiday. I then had to scrape some money together to help finance our challenge. Mind you there was also a rather large carrot being dangled in front of us, in the form of a £1000 prize. All my work mates at the 3 in 1 factory started laying bets against me. Cecil Goymer in the mixing room bet me £1 that I would not even go to Edinburgh. His actual wording was I bet you don't even get on the train. Jimmy also from the mixing room bet me £1, I would not start the race, while Ken their boss, bet me £1 that I would not make it out of Scotland and so on. I believe there was about twelve bets in all, a grand total of £12. If I failed it would cost me about four weeks wages. I was confident that I could at least start the race and if I got to the Scottish border I would be in the money.

Harry and I eventually left Stowmarket railway station on the Friday night at about 6.30 pm, being seen off on our folly by a host of local dignitary's which included the Stowmarket Major Mr. Weston Howard, and Brenda (my girlfriend at the time). Well at least the first £1 was already secure in my pocket. For once in my life I was one up.

We travelled all night arriving in Edinburgh Scotland by about 6am the following morning, to utter chaos. There was no organisation, nobody to tell us were to go or even were to start. Furthermore, I was disappointed that there was nobody giving away numbers, so we could be identified. However, after a time, we did manage to find a local newspaper office that helped us with most of the details. After interviewing they took us to where the other contestants were starting the race. Then after extracting a few final details from us about our attempt, another journalist and a photographer saw us off on our long trek south. By this time, it was exactly 12 noon on the Saturday morning.

To us it all seemed uneventful, all we did was to walk for as long as our legs would carry us. Something like sixteen to eighteen hours a day. Our route was to take us out of Scotland and over the Scottish border known as the 'Carter Bar', and straight down the Great North Road heading South towards London. Which in those days was the main arterial road that ran up the centre of England from London and known as the A1 trunk road. Up until them we had not trained for the event. To me walking was walking and wasn't that something we all did every single day of our lives, wasn't it supposed to come naturally to us.

As we slowly made our way South, there were constant reminders and signs that many other walkers had been along the road ahead of us. Quite a few of these other attempts had attracted big followings and sponsors that included large entourages of vehicles. As we continued our walk, we passed some of them by the side of the road, with the occupants nursing their competitor's feet and later withdrawing them from the race. Gradually these vehicles became fewer and fewer, the further we walked south. Then on the Sunday, a reporter who was chasing up a story caught up with us. He then proceeded to tell us that somebody had been caught cheating, by taking a ride. He went on to tell us that we were going to need some sort of proof that we had walked the whole way unaided. This was devastating to us and for a time, we stopped to discuss our situation further with the reporter by the side of the road. Although it did not take us long to make up our minds that there was no way we were going to return to Edinburgh and to re-start the race all over again. Even if we did, we had no idea how we could prove that we had walked the full distance anyway. Finally, we decided that we would get prominent people in each town that we passed through, people like Police officers or Bank Managers, or maybe a Vicar, to sign a piece of paper for us. Stating who they were and at what time we had passed through their town. With that, we said goodbye to the reporter and headed south for Marble Arch in London. Sadly, later we were to learn that this would not be enough proof to satisfy the guy who had offered the challenge and reward.

One of the biggest thrills for us was to watch the steady stream of contestants dropping out of the race the more miles we covered. As we passed through each town or village, the locals would tell us how many walkers had been through a head of us. The further south we reached the fewer walkers were reported passing through ahead of us, and it felt good because the numbers were dwindled rapidly. The other thing that gave us a big thrill was the fact that most of the other walkers had car loads of gear and food to assist them. Some even had beds built into the back of a vehicle. While all Harry and I had was a small shoulder bag, containing just a few basics to survive on, namely a bottle of Lucozade (energy drink) and a couple of bars of chocolate. We didn't know what a tooth brush or a bar of soap was.

During the week leading up to our trip to Edinburgh, I had received a vast amount of advice from everybody that even included the factory cat. The Boys in the mixing department were the worst offenders, usually most of their advice bordered on simply poking fun at me. I like to think this was all done to try to get me to call off the escapade, so that they could collect on their bets. Like I said earlier it amounted to four weeks wages. I always remember Cecil telling me that before I go I should soak my feet in vinegar, so the skin would pickle and become tough. Don't know where he got that one from, but I wasn't trying anything like that. However, there was one piece of advice I took very seriously and that was to purchase a pair of new boots. This sounded a good idea and made sense that I should try and protect my only means of propulsion. So along I trotted to Gordon Ince, a gentlemen's outfitting shop in the middle of Stowmarket town to purchase a brand-new pair of bright shiny size 11 Army boots. Mr. Ince who served me, had already heard of what I was intending to do, so he deducted a few shillings off the price for me. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that they would have to be broken in. The only boots you could purchase in those days were what we called Ex-Army Navy stock and they were hard as nails as we say, and very uncomfortable to wear. They would usually cause very large blisters on your feet, until they had been worn for short periods of time, over a couple of weeks. Not like today, as they are all nice, soft and ready to wear straight off the shelf, with no braking in period required. Anyway, the day we started the walk, they only lasted three hours on my feet. Even after trying another of Cecil's bright ideas of bandaging up my feet. They made my feet so painful that I had to tie their laces together and hang them around my neck, and to revert to wearing the black suede (brothel creeper) boots that I had travelled to Edinburgh in. These I wore for the remainder of the walk. By the time I reached London the soles had long since come off and I arrived at Marble Arch walking on the inner part of the shoe base and wearing large holes in my socks. However, because of their weight and the swinging motion around my neck I eventually dumped them by the side of the road.

We did not meet too many people by the road side as we slowly advanced towards London, which was good because we did not want to waste too much time stopping and talking with them. Then just as we were about to leave Scotland we stopped at the Strawbridge Hotel. Where Harry met up with a young girl who was working at the hotel kitchen. Here we did allow ourselves a short break, so Harry could chat her up. Although I used the time to grab a couple of winks of much needed sleep.

We were only carrying a small amount of money with us, a shoestring attempt is not quite the word I would use, to me we were almost completely broke. Therefore, we were forced to rely solely on fish and chips, Lucozade drinks and the occasional hand out. While sleeping rough in anything we could find. Like haystacks, a telephone box and once just North of London, a manure heap so we could enjoy the heat it was giving off. I somehow seem to remember that we had read that Dr Barbara Moore had done the very same thing, and so that's where we got that idea. Remembering that this walk was taking place in early January. When I say sleep, I do not know if two hours qualify as sleep, because that is all we were allowing ourselves. Washing became a luxury because I do not think we washed during the whole week, boy we must have been a little high on the nose when we finally arrived in London.

An interesting observation was that while in Scotland, the people were very friendly and helped us whenever possible. It seemed no effort for them to feed us and allow us to sleep rough in their barns. However, once we were in England, things changed nobody wanted to know what we were up to. For some unknown reason they did not want to get involved. At one stage, we were even chased out of a haystack by an irate English farmer.

While walking on the English side of the border, we approached a local farmer who was tending his herd of cows. He must have seen us coming and made his way to the gate by the road, arriving just as we got to the same spot. The minute he said morning to us, I knew we were going to have trouble trying to understand his accent. In the distance was a small town so I asked him in my broad Suffolk accent if there were any Café's. He turned around looking at his herd of cows that had by now gathered behind him. After a couple of seconds, he looked back at us and said, "No mate there all Cows". We walked away laughing to ourselves over the incident, as I still do today. I like to think he thought I said Calves. Mind you I'm still not sure maybe the joke was on me, but for the life of me I cannot imagine why.

A high point for us was when we caught up with an old guy who was walking a head of us. He was also on the challenge, being sponsored by his village. He only had to finish to become a local hero, I believe he was about sixty-five years old. He tagged along with us for about a day, making us laugh with all his jokes and great sense of humour. Then not being able to keep up with our pace, he finally bid us a tearful farewell and gave Harry his spare pom-pom hat for luck. It's the same one you can see in the photos.

One night about 100 miles North of London we came upon a large section of the road that had been closed off by safety barriers and cones, because of road works that were taking place. Somehow in the darkness, we became lost and ended up on the wrong side of the barriers, not realising until it was too late. We then found ourselves trying to walk on a very thick layer of some sort of sticky tar. Remembering that it was winter and should not have been sticky. Once we had realised our mistake we tried to get off the section of road, but in the darkness, it was hard to see where the treated section ended. In a vain effort we had to walk a considerable distance on the tar like covering, at times it felt so sticky that we were having a job to lift our feet up to walk. When we did finally make it to safety, it felt like we had just added two inches of material to the bottoms of our shoes. It then took us a further 50 miles to wear it off. Mind you by that time the soles on our shoes were getting a little thin so in a way it was like having an instant re-tread applied the bottom of the shoes.

Then came the good news we had been waiting for, as we went through St Neots just North of London. We were informed that we were the first walkers to go through the town. Hearing this good news made us quicken our pace, for the first time we were thinking that we might actually win this race. Up until now it had only been a big joke between us, we were doing it just for the laughs, and to see if two ordinary working-class country lads from Suffolk could achieve something on this scale. We felt good, as far as we were concerned we were the Kings of the road. You know the old Suffolk saying, 'You Won't Hurry Me I'm From Silly Suffolk'. Although I think today the term would be more like a couple of 'Silly Tractor Boys'.

Just North of London we were both feeling very hungry, unfortunately we had no money, as it had been spent a couple of days earlier. By an amazing twist of fate, I picked up a two-shilling piece from the side of the road. Within minutes we were sitting in a local transport café having ordered a plate of chips and two forks.

My Father who was driving his brand-new Triumph Herald car found us twenty miles North of London somewhere near Hatfield, as we were walking by the side of the road. We stopped, and spent some time chatting and eating some welcome food that my parents had brought with them. Dad also gave Harry a nip of whisky, but stopped short of offering me one, according to him I was too still too young to drink. (Little did he know?)

By the time, we reached Marble Arch it was dark, it being 7.30 pm in the evening. Along with my parents, there was also a few of my fellow work mates that had made the trip. I must admit that it was a surprise because up till then I had always thought that most of the factory were just making fun of me. I always supposed that most of them never thought I was serious about the challenge. There was Raymond Taylor, Evelyn his girlfriend, Ennis Fenner and his wife, my Mother and Father all waiting for us. Dad then spent almost an hour running around looking for a policeman to record our arrival time. I suggested we break a window and then the whole police force would turn up. Finally, a policeman was found, and he recorded our arrival time as seven days eight and quarter hours and that included the three quarters of an hour it took for Dad to find him. We had beaten Dr Moore's time of seven days and twelve hours. Not a vast difference in time but enough to beat it. A great feeling.

During the trip home the weather broke, and a large amount of snow fell in just a short period of time. At times, it became very dangerous to continue driving through the storm. However, our little convoy of two cars slowly pressed on and we finally all arrived home safe and sound about three o'clock in the morning. It turned out that the snow fall was so heavy that it was one of the worse winters for about ten years. It was also felt that if we had not completed the walk, then the weather would have forced us to abandon it and being so close to London that would have been heart breaking.

Harry and I spent most of Sunday morning sleeping, but by midday we were up and feeling right as rain. Then most of Sunday afternoon was taken up undertaking newspaper interviews, as the news of our achievement had travelled fast. We had actually woken up to a couple of journalist already in the bedroom taking photos of us.

Bright and early Monday morning it was back to work to pick up all those bets. Even my Boss was surprise to see me at work, expecting me to take the second week off to get over the walk. It was a big surprise for me when he gave me the second weeks wage as a prize. I think I came out of the whole deal about even, but we never did receive the £1000 bet from the challenger. My Mother phoned and wrote to the garage owner who had offered the prize, in order that we might stake our claim, but it was all to no avail. He simply refused to pay us, saying we did not have enough proof, proving that we had completed the walk within the seven days twelve hours. Later there was a story doing the rounds that he had never intended to honour the challenge in the first place. Furthermore, he did not even have the money, all he wanted out of this stunt was the publicity. Well he received plenty of that, only it was all bad. As a couple of the national newspapers ran the story on him not paying. I believe that it helped tip the scales so in the end he went broke. The whole episode did not bother me, I just put it all down to experience. I'd had a good time and for me it was time to move on. To start looking around for the next hair brain scheme, or that's what my Mother used to call all my exploits. I was just hyperactive and always had to be doing something, as is still the case today.

I had Successfully achieved another challenge and felt pleased with myself.

Barbara Moore was born Anna Cherkasova in Russia on 22nd December 1903 – 14th May 1977. She was a Russian-born British engineer who gained celebrity status in the early 1960s for her long-distance walking and health beliefs.

Moore was among the first generation of Soviet female engineers after the Russian Revolution in 1932, she became the Soviet Union's long-distance motorcycle champion. She immigrated to Great Britain in 1939, marrying an art teacher, Harry Moore, but they later separated. She also used the name Barbara Moore-Pataleewa.

In December 1959, she walked from Edinburgh to London in early 1960, and walked from John O'Groats to Land's End in 23 days. She then undertook an 86-day, 3,387-mile walk from San Francisco to New York City, where she arrived on 6th July 1960.

She was a vegetarian and a breatharian, believing it is possible for people to survive without food. She walked with only nuts, honey, raw fruit and vegetable juice for nourishment.

I never met up with Dr Barbara Moore.

Chapter 3

### Royal Marine Commando

During the 1950's, not many people travelled abroad. It was a time when the country was still trying to rebuild after the horrors of the Second World War.

However, that was all about to change for me, as I took a bold step and joined the 'Royal Marine Commandos'.

Having visited the Royal Marines recruitment office on Lloyds Avenue in Ipswich Suffolk. I was amazed that I passed all the questioning direct at me. However, I was later to learn that nobody ever fails the test. That the recruiters take everyone who walks through the front door. The so called weeding out of weaklings takes place during the training. I also mentioned about my walk from Edinburgh to Marble Arch. Their response was to tell me that I was the sort of person they were looking for and wanted in the Marine Corps. During training an edition of the Corps 'Globe and Laurel' magazine was released in July, informing the Corps of my walk. To which I received a lot of ribbing from some of my fellow squad mates during training. At least they knew that I would never give up on any task.

1962. 12th April. As I stepped off the train at Deal railway station, I was wearing a pair of tight Levi jeans and a black leather jacket. I was also sporting a mop of very long hair that had taken me almost eighteen months to grow. To some of my fellow passengers I must have looked like an alien from another planet. Because all around me other young men disembarking from the same train were sporting short haircuts and wearing smart Italian style suits. This being the style that was trying to replace the long-favoured Teddy Boy look that I preferred. The Teddy Boy look featured a long-draped jacket, whereas the Italian one featured a short length jacket, it being not much longer than a waistcoat. However, I always felt that the long jacket suited a tall person while the Italian style jacket enhanced a shorter person.

I felt out of place standing there on the platform not knowing where to go or whom I was supposed to meet. However, that was all about to change as I noticed a very tall slim built man in military uniform strutting down the platform and heading in my direction. "You one of mine" he bawled at me, "What's one of yours" I replied sarcastically. "Don't be smart with me laddie, you'll make a bad name for yourself in this outfit". "I'm addressed as Colour Sergeant to you". Fine I thought, thanks for telling me. He continued shouting at me "By the looks of you, you must be one of mine, outside and in the van". I could not understand why he had to keep shouting at me, after all we were standing within an inch of each other and he was almost licking my nose. So why could he not talk in a normal voice like everybody else.

He suddenly turned and strutted off down the platform looking like a tin soldier bawling at anything that moved, including other bewildered young men standing on the same platform just like me. I decided to make my way down the platform and out of the station building into the courtyard as he suggested. Where I was confronted by a van standing in the station courtyard, just as the Colour Sergeant had told me.

The van was a dark blue Bedford Door-mobile, with the letters R.M. painter on the side. Must stand for Royal Marines I thought, believing I had past my first test. Although on second thoughts maybe it stood for 'Right Mess' something I thought I might just be getting myself into. I looked in the back of the van and found it full of several other bewildered recruits. Unfortunately, there were no empty seats, however I did notice that the front passenger side seat was empty, so I jumped in. I could not believe my luck or the space I had around me, compared with the other guys all crammed up tight in the back.

I was just settling down when Bang, a wooden stick crashed across the top part of my thighs. Something I was later to discover was known as a pace stick and used to measure out a marching stride. "In the back laddie" the bawling Sergeant had returned with a vengeance, apparently, I was in his seat. "Not making a very good first impression are we", he continued to shout at me. I could see that life with this mob was not going to be a bed of roses like I had first thought. I jumped out of the front seat and somehow managed to squeeze myself into the back. ending up sitting on somebody's lap. We then sped off at break neck speed to the Royal Marine barracks.

Well I had made a bold step and joined the Royal Marines hoping I would become a Commando. Amazingly I did complete and pass my parade ground training.

Amazingly even during training at Deal I was allowed to travel to Holland for a ten-day free holiday. Although, that's how it was described to myself and most of the other recruits, in the 779 Squad.

The Royal Navy was looking for volunteers to paint one of their ships, H.M.S. 'Rame Head', a Submarine depot ship. It turned out to be a little bit of a conn, as we had to paint it during the out-and return trips. To be rewarded with ten days off doing whatever we wanted while in Holland. Only to carry on painting on the return trip home. I still remember the comic answer when I asked what the rules of painting were. Being told that if its bolted down we paint it. However, if it moves its thrown over the side (Only Kidding a Royal Naval joke) As it was later explained to us. As one of the recruits did throw something in to the North Sea.

But first we had to scrape or hammer all (and I do mean all) the old paint off, which turned out to be harder than I first imagined, and to then give it two coats of Battleship Grey paint.

Then it was onto Portsmouth and a couple weeks sea training while bunking on the 'HMS Sheffield'. The same ship that was bombed by mistake during the Second World War, by the British.

Then two weeks at Poole learning how to exit a landing craft and firefighting skills.

Finally, the last piece of training I knew was going to be the hardest part of my training. It was off to Lympstone and the Commando Training, that took all my intelligence and know how to get through. Although the Royal Marines motto is never, and I mean never GIVE UP. That motto helped me get through.

To be presented with the reward of a treasured 'Green Beret' was one of my greatest Achievements I have ever obtained. I still have it to this day and proudly wear it every April while on an 'Anzac Day' parade, marching through the streets of Brisbane, while remembering our lost comrades. 'Lest We Forget'.

Upon completion of my training I was posted to 40 Commando Royal Marines, at that time it was based in Singapore. During my flight in a 'Comet' jet airliner, we landed at 'El Adem' in Libya to refuel. Then a long flight down the centre of Africa. Being classed as Shock troops we were not allowed to fly anywhere near Egypt. Then up the eastern coast of Africa, and the next stop was at 'Kormaxa' in Aden. Once again to take on fuel. Then off to Gan an Island in the Indian Ocean for another refuel, before heading for our destination, Changi Airport on the island of Singapore.

A couple of hours drive North in a military truck, and I arrived at 'Burma Camp' in Malaya. A couple of weeks after arriving at 40 Commando we were headed for Sarawak and North Borneo on active service duty.

From February 1963 to October 1964 I was on Active Service as a member of 40 Commando Royal Marines, while serving in Sarawak and North Borneo. Although it cannot be classed as an Achievement. However, it was a time that I strongly believe I helped the people of Borneo and my mother country the UK. I enjoyed the country along with it's jungle, and its people who made us very welcome in most areas we were deployed. I am proud of the part I played in freeing the people from the clutches of border crossing rebels and Indonesian insurgence.

### Chapter 4

Sir Winston Churchill's Funeral

1965. January. Sir Winston Churchill (Prime Minister for the UK during the Second World War) became seriously ill, and doctors agreed that he would not recover. 41 Commando was given the task of training to be the official bodyguard during the funeral. Because during the war Churchill always had a personal Royal Marine bodyguard wherever he travelled. We started training and rehearsing the drills that would be required of us as Guard of Honour during the funeral. After a week's gruelling hard work, it was decided by the powers that be, to give us a break and to send us all home on leave. I must say that decision was well received by all, especially after the rehearsals had been so intense and full on. We all left Bickleigh camp on Friday at midday. Being told that if Churchill survived until the Monday morning, then 43 Commando who were stationed at Stonehouse Barracks in Plymouth, would take over the funeral duties.

I travelled all the way home to Creeting Road in Stowmarket, arriving home at around midnight, to be greeted by Mum and Dad and some well-earned sleep. However, the very next morning 24th January at 8 am, I received a telegram from my Plymouth Barracks, informing me that Winston Churchill had passed away overnight and so would I return to my barracks, as soon as possible. I then spent all of Saturday on a train returning to Bickleigh, upon arrival I gathered all my belongings together, and as a unit we all travelled to London. Where we moved into the Chelsea Barracks? This was to be our headquarters, where we had to undertake further practice for the funeral. Only this time it was held on the streets of London at 4 am in the mornings, trying to keep it secret from the public. A couple of these practice sessions were held in the snow. To stand at attention for many hours in the snow is not a very nice experience.

Being in London meant we were all having some good runs ashore at night. It did not take us long to visit the usual haunts with lots of drinking etc and staggering back to the barracks after midnight. Then trying to get some highly prized sleep before getting back up at 3 am, so we were ready for drill at 4 am. Can you imagine the state that some of us were in.

The funeral took place on Saturday 24th January. We were all formed up on the cobblestones of Tower Hill, if you ever see a photo there were 120 Royal Marines and I was next to the right-hand marker. Therefore, on the photo I'm second from the left in the front row. Marching and standing at attention on those cobblestones was very hard, I think one of the Marines in the back row even passed out. I say that because at all times we had to look to our front. It's a chargeable offence to turn your head to look at some strange noise that might be attracting your attention behind. However, I was looking at the crowds of people on the other side of the road, in front of us. It was their reactions that told me that something was not quite right. At first, they were only pointing but soon they started shouting and pointing. The next thing I remember is some of them saying, "He's going, He's going, He's GONE" and with that I heard a deafening thud somewhere behind me, while the people in front of us were laughing. Apparently, a Marine had passed out by falling back wards in what we call the at ease position. Anyway, the sergeant at the back left him on the ground for a couple of minutes to regain his senses, and then hoping he had come around he and another sergeant just stood him up and he returned to the at ease position as if nothing had happened.

I can remember hearing the very loud booming noise of the bass drum, keeping all the military personnel in step. As the funeral possession approached us from St Paul's Cathedral. The gun carriage carrying Churchill's coffin stopped in front of where we were all formed up on the badly slopped hill. Then as it was lifted on to the shoulders of the pole bearers, I believe they were from the one of the Guard Regiment. The coffin being lead lined was very heavy and the service men wearing steel studded boots on granite cobblestones, was not a good mix. As one guy started to slide, I thought they were going to drop the coffin, but it all turned out okay. The coffin was then carried down the hill to board a small boat by the Tower Pier for a short trip up the river. As a mark of respect all the large cranes on either side of the Thames river lowered their jib's as a mark of respect, as the boat went past. Too then be taken to a railway Station heading North where he was eventually laid to rest on his Blenheim estate.

Then it was back to Chelsea Barracks, pack up all our gear and return to Bickleigh in Devon. Although I do feel very honoured to have been part of the ceremony, for once in my life I had taken part in history. Although to this day I have still never seen any photos of the event.

As a foot note, and having watch the B.B.C. Video a few years later, I did not see any hesitation of the pole bearers lifting the coffin off the gun carriage. No, I did not imagine it.

Chapter 5

### Love of Music

After leaving the Royal Marines in 1966, music became my main love and interest that almost took over my entire life for the next 50 years. In which I was able to play all over the UK, Germany, New Zealand and Australia. I loved every minute of it, and if given the chance I would not change a single minute of memory.

I first became interested in music, and in particular Rock n Roll, while serving in 40 Commando (stationed in Burma Camp Malaya) while watching four fellow Marines from C Company putting a band together. I would watch them practicing in the camp cinema whenever possible. However, it was the Bass guitar that really caught my eye and implanted an idea in the back of my brain. That one day I would like to maybe learn how to play it.

After moving to Leiston in Suffolk and working at Richard Garretts engineering factory I befriended Ray Callahan. Ray was very talented and played Guitar and Keyboard like a pro. He was so talented that he taught Dave Bridges how to play Guitar, Ben Wright the Drums, myself Bass Guitar, and Ron Knights what was expected of a singer. We ended up forming a band and yes, he even came up with the name 'The Forbidden Fruit'.

On Sunday 13th October 1968, I met up with John McVie of 'Fleetwood Mac' fame, at a gig at the Manor Ball Room in Ipswich. I spent half an hour with him during a break, picking his brain for any tips I might be able to use to help improve my playing. I ended up playing some Riffs that he used. When asked by many about my style, I would always refer to it as the 'Callahan - McVie' style.

It started a long career of music that allowed me to play all over the UK, Germany, New Zealand and Australia, that lasted well over 50 years.

Although they were not top bands, I did support several top liner bands of the day. I can honestly say that personally I believe I achieved something good from all of them. If given the opportunity I would not change anything, as it all helped make me into person I am today. In the playing of music and my personality.

The following is a rough list of the bands, and recordings:

1967. 'Forbidden Fruit'. There was one recording made on Ron Knights Fathers Reel to Reel tape recorder, in the International Club in Leiston. However, the machine was set up a long way from the stage, and the recordings are not very good. At least we all have copies of the recordings. I believe the recording was of four tracks. Although on a sad note just as I'm writing this article I was informed by Ron, of the passing of 'Dave Bridges'. A sad day.

1969. 'Brothers Grimm'. The band only lasted a few months, although we did play at one of the holiday camps in Clacton Suffolk.

1971. 'Jim West and the Texans'. With Jim I recorded an L.P, and a single at the Scrubby Recording Studio in Norfolk, released under the Gemini Label. While in the studio I also helped lay down a couple of backing tracks for 'Allan Francis Smethurst' aka the 'Singing Post Man'. Although I never did get a copy of the disc's.

1973. The 'Nightriders', were a county music band based around the local area of Saxmundham Suffolk. We also toured Germany, where we played at local venues and American Air Bases. Having taken a great interest in the 'Beatles' and knowing that they spent a lot of their early apprenticeship in Germany. If it was good enough for them, then it was good enough for us.

1975. 'Knoxville County' we recorded a self-penned single at the 'Hillside Sound Studios' Ipswich, run by brothers David and Richard Allison. We also recorded at 'Radio Medway' in Maidstone Kent. Ten tracks for a later night Radio show.

1985. I upped and moved my family to New Zealand. At the time I was working for Bernard Mathews and was asked if I would go there and help build another factory for him.

1986. 'Stratus' was a New Zealand band, named after a company I was privately running selling Microlights and Hang Gliders.

Three years later I was once again on the move. Jumping over the ditch as they say in this part of the world and settled in Brisbane Queensland. I have no further plans to move anywhere else. He says with fingers crossed behind his back. What's that old saying "Never Say Never'.

1989. Cross Cut' was in Australia, followed by 'Wishbone Jack', the 'Fabulous Chryslers', 'Highway 409', and '409'. There might be a couple more in there somewhere? There are a few recordings from that time, but I've lost the details of who was recorded. What where or why?

In 1991, I spent some time in the Taramalin Sound Studios, recording with 'Cross Cut'. Laying down several tracks and hoping to release them on an LP. However, it was not to happen, and it was only used as a demo track helping us gain more work. Later I was to return to the Taramalin Studios along with my Daughter Sharon, Hans the singer and Guitarist Lawrie Dillon. I still have four tracks from that session, and very proud of one of them. 'Jackson' was recorded with Sharon taking the main vocal while I backed her. I think Hans recorded 'Traveling Man' on his own.

While with the 'Fabulous Chrysler', Hans, Len Lotz and I recorded 16 tracks at 'Video Pro'.

### Chapter 6

Touring Germany

1972. During late February I was approached to join and play bass guitar for the 'Nightriders'. At that time, they were one of the top country music bands in East Anglia and operated from the Saxmundham Queens Head Hotel. Its owner Brian Kirk and the singer Barry Seaman also ran a music agency from the Hotel premises. Although Brian managed the band, Barry looked after it's every day running. Barry came from Blyford and was a very professional guy when it came to music, using the stage name of Bob Wayne. Years later I was to learn that he had taken it from a member of the Merle Haggard band from America.

The band under took several tours around the UK, operating as far North as Newcastle, and as far west as Cornwall. Although the London tours, and there were several were the ones we enjoyed. After the Beatles toured Germany many bands tried to emulate them by doing the same. The 'Nightriders' became lucky and we completed the well sort after tour of Germany. Although to be honest we were asked to replace 'Country Fever' a top London based band who had double booked a load of dates. At that time, they featured Albert Lee, one of the country's top guitarists, who went on to be world class. 'Country Fever' were also one of the top bands in the UK at the time. While in Germany we also backed La Mel Prince the American female version of country singer Charly Pride.

We all thought we had made the big time. However, it was not to be, although we did pick up a lot of work touring around the UK. As far north as Newcastle, and over to the western side of the country and especially Cornwall. Although the feather in the cap was the tours of London, where it was all happening in the music scene. At one time we recorded at the B.B.C. studios. The tracks were used for a couple of years on a program call 'Night Ride'. Being on line from 11pm through to about 3am.

In May 1972 we played at the Wembley Country Music Festival alongside Tom T Hall, Hank Williams Jnr. Ann Murry, Bobby Bare and a couple of others I can't remember. I also believe that it was only the second festival that had been staged at that time. We entered a competition and sadly came second to Frank Jennings and the 'Country Syndicate'. Whose prize was a UK tour with Jerry Lee Lewis.

Also, during 1972, we under took a live recording session at Gunton Hall Lowestoft Suffolk. Backing artists like 'Little Ginny', Jed Ford, Bob Wayne and Ray Dexter. During the summer we also played mid-week at some of the Norfolk Holiday camps.

In August 1972 we recorded six tracks at the B.B.C. radio studio. A couple of tracks were played on their 'Late Night' show that aired after 11pm each weekday and were repeated many times over for a couple of years.

Chapter 7

### Dunwich Cliffs

1977. The day came, when the conditions looked perfect for a first soaring flight from the Dunwich cliffs. Along with John Sharpe we drove to the site and rigged up the Hang Gliders. The wind was blowing directly onto the cliff but was not very strong. After a couple of top to bottom flights, I became very frustrated. Would I ever soar this dam cliff? Anyway, I packed up and headed back to my car when David Cook and John Wells turned up with his new fixed wing known as the 'Fledge'. I knew this thing could fly here, its L/D (lift over drag) being far superior than mine something like 9 to 1? The same as Cookies VJ 23, and I did so want to be first. I convinced myself that if it can fly here then so can I. After all I had been the first to fly the Cliffs although it was only a top to bottom, landing on the beach. Therefore, without any further hesitation and thought about the situation, I turned around and went straight back to the cliff top.

By this time a little bit of rivalry had crept in between David and myself, since I had been going to Cromer to fly. At first, I did not rig up, I watched Cookie supervising John and launch him off. Wow he went along the beach about one hundred meters, almost getting up to soar, and boy he was not going to beat me. Therefore, I rigged up quickly, Sharpe said I was mad to try it as by now the wind had gone a little South of East. This was new ground for us. Without hesitation I walked the hang glider to the edge and clipped my harness to the glider. Then I waited for a few minutes until a felt a gust of wind come through and just launched off the cliff.

Wow to my amazement I went straight up, where as I had always gone straight down. Not only that I kept going up and was heading south along the cliff towards Minsmere. What a flight I could not believe my luck, and it felt just great, I flew all the way to Minsmere, turned around and returned. I was told later that David watched every minute of my flight from the beach, and even walked into the sea to make sure I went right to the far end of the Minsmere cliffs and back. To rub it in, I completed the task six times and that day nobody else managed to soar that cliff. I stayed up until the wind dropped, and I was finally forced to land on the beach. Wow what a feeling I had, to lie on the beach for half an hour just to come down from my high-spirited feelings. Only then and with hind sight, I wished that I had tried to undertake a top landing back onto the cliff. It was 24th September 1977 and I had just become the first person flying a hang glider, to soar the Dunwich and Minsmere Cliffs. What a feeling it is to be first at anything. I know that the date is correct because by that time we were all keeping flying time log books. This really was an Achievement for me. Something I enjoyed every single minute of, and of being able to say that I was the first to fly, and later the first to soar the Dunwich Cliffs. Although I have to mention that I'd had to wait a couple of years until a hang glider had been designed, that would be able to cope and allow the pilots soar some of Suffolk's small sand dunes and cliffs. Birdman Sports from Marlborough in Wiltshire and their Moonraker Hang Gliders.

Chapter 8

### Microlight Distance Record

1983. June 5th. By now there were some very fast Microlights being brought on to the market, and it was so easy to fly to different locations. Therefore, I decided to try to break a few records myself, before somebody else had the same idea. I was lucky to assemble a small group of friends and helpers to assist me. My plan was to undertake one flight and in doing so to try and break about four records all at the same time.

I mapped out a triangle course from the Thorpeness cliffs to Elmswell (to the west of Stowmarket) to a point South of Norwich and back to Thorpeness. Each leg was about thirty miles long and added up to a grand total of ninety-one miles, which I later had verified by a government department. The only record to date in a Microlight was twenty-seven miles in a straight line. Mind you in those days, nobody seemed to bother with such trivial things.

I managed to get Pete Bowden, his family and friends from Felixstowe to go to Elmswell and a couple to the point south of Norwich to photo me as I flew over. Later they would all make statements for me that they had witnessed me flying overhead. They even managed to take a photo of me, with somebody in the foreground holding up a newspaper with the day's date, it even included the guys watch, how's that for ingenuity. David Cook saw me off from the Thorpeness cliffs and later witnessed my return. What a feeling I had inside of me as I finally landed back at Thorpeness, I was over the moon and could not believe what I had just achieved.

I rang the local Radio and newspapers officers in Ipswich informing them of what I had just achieved. Claiming the World and British record for an out and return flight of ninety-one miles and the World and British straight-line Record, it being one of the legs of thirty-one miles, and a couple of others I cannot remember right now. Suddenly I was a big celebrity, but sadly it was all short lived and I was brought back down to earth with a big jolt. The week before my attempt a pilot in America had stripped everything out of his light aircraft, filled it with fuel and flew eight hundred miles on one tank. It sounds so crazy, but the silly rules of that day allowed him to do it, so my day of glory was very short lived. You might like to read the newspaper and magazine cuttings of the day that are included on my website.

However, on a brighter note, the British National Record of 91.62 miles set on 5th June 1983 was recognised and because of the American fiasco all Microlight definitions were changed so it would not happen again. It was agreed throughout the world that the definition of a Microlight/Ultralight, meant that it had to weigh under 150kilos This was also in my favour, because it meant that all records would start again and that all existing records would stand forever and would not be able to be broken. To this day I hope I am still the proud owner of a British record and possibly a European, although I'm still not sure if that one was ever rectified.

I had always known that David's VJ23 could break any record, and I had agreed with him more than once that I would be satisfied if I could only hold a record for just one day. In that way, at least it would be in the record books for all time. I under stood that all records can and will be broken, so just that one day would be my crowning glory and it was.

While on the subject of Microlight records, by 1982 I had become the first person in the UK to obtain an F.I.A. Bronze Calibri Flying award for Microlights. (Federation Aeronautic International). By 1984 I had become the first person in the UK to be awarded the F.I.A. Silver Calibri Flying Award and was well on my way to becoming the first Gold Award. I was one of a group of three pilots who had obtained their Bronze and Silver Awards. We had all passed the necessary exams and where in the process of logging the necessary hours flying time in the air. One of the other pilots was Peter Troy Davies, who David Cook had employed as his test pilot for the Shadow Microlight he had designed and built. During which time I had become friends with him. Afraid to add that I cannot remember the name of the third person. Sad to say that within a few months I upped my whole family and we all moved out to emigrate to New Zealand. The third pilots name has deserted me for the time being. The reason I mention this is that the F.I.A. had previously announced that the first fifty pilots to gain the F.I.A. Gold Award, would have their names recoded for the whole world to see. An award I strongly believed I could have won? Although I have to admit that I never did find out who eventually won the race and became the First to be Awarded the Gold Award in the UK.

Although I was the first in the UK to be awarded the First Pilots Licence Group D to fly a Microlight on the 15th August 1981.

Chapter 9

### Woburn Abbey Competition

1984. At a Microlight meeting being held at Woburn Abbey I won six out of a total of seven prizes, while my friend David Cook managed to pick up the other one. As well as medals, I also won £200, along with a Wedgwood plate to hang on the wall that contained a centre picture of Woburn Abbey. It still hangs on my wall to this day and I am very proud of it. Another great Achievement for me.

The cross-country event I won was very interesting as it was a map reading exercise and none of us were locals. Therefore, nobody knew much about the terrain. You were allowed as many attempts as we liked over a four-hour period. I completed my attempt and was very happy with my time. I even believed it to be a winning time.

Later I overheard two Germans who had turned up at the meet with a very fast machine, planning their flight. Not being good map-readers, they were going to just follow the machines in front of them for the first couple of legs. Then while on the final leg, when they could see the finish line, they would just power back to the finish by the shortest possible rout, as the Abbey stood out for miles. After hearing all this I made a very quick decision to make another attempt. I somehow managed to position myself so I took off just in front of the Germans. Now they were going to follow me, (have you guessed it!!!) I flew off in the wrong direction and those German fools just followed me, I even got back outside the four-hour time limit. The message in all of that is to have the courage of your own convictions. You should have seen their faces when they found out what I had done. I just had to rub it in, by telling them. I also added that no sportsman ever gets anywhere by cheating. Because in the end and with the worlds press like it is, you will always be found out. I might have always been a controversial person, but I have always tried to be as honest as possible in my life time, and I have also believed in telling the truth at all times, if not it will come back to haunt and bite you one day.

One prize was for the best-looking machine at the event. Unknown to me while I was in the officials' tent with all the other pilots. Emily my wife and son Mark set about cleaning up the Microlight and entered it in the 'Concours d'Elegance'. They must have done a great job because I won 6 out of the 7 prizes on offer. I might add that my close friend David Cook won the other prize. That day Suffolk pilots came out on top.

Chapter 10

### Advance Foods

One Sunday during January 1984, Emily and I took a long walk around the fields and foot paths of Knodishall in Suffolk. Spending the time to discuss and plan our future. We were both looking for a change, but had no idea what we wanted to do? By the time we arrived home late in the afternoon, we had decided that we would try and emigrate to New Zealand. I wasted no time in contacting the NZ Embassy in London, asking for information on emigration, and what we needed to do to obtain it, I wasted no time in filling out a few forms and returning them. I even managed to locate an Electrical company in NZ who were looking for employees.

While all this was going on I tried to keep it secret from my friends and employer, Bernard Matthews who were in the meat industry. Several months later a friend in the workshop, asked if I had read the message on the notice board. Bernard Mathews was looking for somebody to go to New Zealand and assist in the construction of a factory. I had tried to keep it secret that I was making plans to go to Emigrate to New Zealand. At first, I thought my friends were having a joke with me. When they were not looking I took a look at the notice board and was very surprised to fine the message, and yes it was true. As with all secrets, news had leaked out and my work shop boss called me into his office. He told me that he had heard that I was about to leave the company and head for NZ. He then asked if I would be interested in still going, but to work for Bernard Matthew instead. I told him that I would like to talk it over with Emily and get back to him.

### Chapter 11

Autobiography

1988. Arriving on my own in Australia, I found myself with a lot of free time on my hands. Therefore, I set about trying to recall as much of my early life as possible. All scribbled down on scraps of paper in pencil.

Although how to remember certain incidents became a major problem. Therefore, I spend a lot of time wondering how I was going to tackle and attack such mammoth task I had set myself, that covered more than 45 years.

(Unknown to me at that time, the book was to take me several years to complete.)

The introduction of the Autobiography has several pages explaining who and how other people helped turn me into the person I am today. All of who I still greatly admire.

The Project would not have been possible without the help and insistence of Catherine Elizabeth Cook who during 1974 first planted the seed of an idea in my head, while I was being taught to fly a hang glider by her husband David. At one time she overheard me telling David of a couple of my Royal Marine war stories. To which she later told me that I should put it all down on paper, and that maybe later it could be used in a book. Most of the times I wrote I always imagined Catherine in the background egging me on to write more.

Although how to recall the details became a major problem. Until I remembered what Paul Defane a fellow guitarist cum bass player had once told me while I was living in New Zealand. That Music is 'Total Recall'.

How true his words have turned out to become? Whenever I hear an old record being played, I can usually remember where I was at the time it was released, or who I was going out with at the time. Or some other incident that is connected to the tune. Although I must add that it is mainly with the music from the fifties through to the mid to late seventies. Why not from the seventies, well maybe it was my age or that I did not want to follow the Punk music of the day. Maybe I do not want to be reminded of those later times, which I do struggle to recollect. Anyway, I went along with Paul's wise words 'Total Recall' because it seems to work for me. It was for that reason that I chose the title of the Autobiography as 'Almost Total Recall'. Believing that there is a good chance that I have forgotten some incidents and people.

Looking back, it was a wise and one of the best decision I've made, because now while in my 75th year, some of my memories have long gone. Whenever I'm struggling trying to recall an incident or a person's name. I dig out a copy of the Autobiography to find the answer.

However, I was later to realised that it was going to be even harder than I had first believed. Mainly because upon my leaving school at the age of 15, I could hardly read or write. Oh, I could read and write that 'the cat sat on the mat'. Although my general use of the English language left a hell of a lot to be desired.

Upon my leaving school, it did not seem to be a problem or worry me. Who needed an education anyway to dig a trench or sweep the roads. I'm sure this was my first big mistake as I was let loose on an unsuspecting world. Only later wishing that I could have written that "The cat sat on the mat in front of a large open fire scratching himself".

While at the Stowmarket Secondary Modern School a couple of my close friends wrote my love letters for me. I've often wondered if they wrote what I dictated or wrote information that might have made fun of me or making them look better. While later when I was a member of the Royal Marines and in particular 40 Commando based in Singapore, (Yes, I conned them as well) Fellow Marines Brian 'Ginger' Walters and Jock Knox used to also write them for me.

When I first got into computers during 1994, I was amazed to find that they had what was known as a spell checker. My prayers had finally been answered. For me there was no looking back. It was full steam ahead. That would later lead to me attempting to write several books.

Here we are in 2018, and spell checkers not only correct the spelling, but now they even arrange the sentence for you. Yes, we have come a long way in such a short time. I'm glad that it has helped me, because now I like to be able to write a thousand words a day. I'm not happy if I don't. Although our young children are still getting ahead of us. Instead of using the so-called Kings English they have now gone down a slippery side road known as abbreviation. At 75 I'm going to leave that one alone, and stick with what I'm doing right now, as it's been 75 years in the making.

I have always been a strong believer that my Royal Marine Commando training worked wonders for me. Although I'm not claiming that I was one of the top recruits, because I was not. There were many more far better than me. I'm best described as an average Royal Marine. However, I did learn the value of never giving up, and that has stayed with me during my whole life. Too this day almost everything I do or think about doing is still controlled or governed by my training. I would not want it any other way. Our unwritten moto was 'Never Give Up'. Something I use every day in what-ever I'm doing. Like with general break downs, my attitude is that there is always a way to fix it? You have to just work it out. Yes, I work better on my own and usually get great satisfaction from most jobs I work on.

I'm not defeated by many problems that raise their ugly head from day to day. In fact, I've since learnt that it's good for the brain, helping keep it alert, and your memory at its best. Most jobs keep me busy all day as I very rarely stop for a break. I see the job to the end, then usually go home. Where I can take it easy and have a real break. Mind you it's hard when I take a problem to bed with me, as it usually keeps me awake all night. Or at least until I've solved it.

Chapter 12

### Correcting History

To be able to say that I helped 'Correct History' is the greatest Achievement I could ever have wish for and obtained.

This is how it went.

2007. June. While I was living in Brisbane Australia. New Zealander Graeme Henderson E-mailed me to ask how I had become involved in hang gliding. Not knowing of him I was a little hesitant in what to respond with. Eventually I typed out a few sentences of what I had got up to while I lived in the UK during the 1970's. Something like 'I first became involved in the sport round about 1973-74'.

I was curious as to how he had come across my E-mail address. To which he responded that he had seen my personal website at terryaspinall.com. After a couple more, E-mails had passed hands I realised that Graeme also lived in Queensland, and so I passed on my phone number. It turned out that Graeme was living only about four hours' drive inland.

There then followed a few phones calls as we both passed on to each other how we got into the sport, and of our highlights, achievements and near-death experiences.

After a time, Graeme started explaining that he was trying to establish if a fellow named John Dickenson had invented the hang glider. This was all new to me and as I had not heard that name before. Until then as far as I was concerned it had been invented by an American known as Professor Francis Rogallo who worked for NASA, or was it Doctor Francis Rogallo?

Although I must confess that in the meantime Ken de Russy, who runs the United States Hang Gliding Museum in America, had also been in touch. He had also explained that John Dickenson had just received some sort of award, something to do with hang gliding? Somehow, I never took on board the relevance of the award.

Several weeks later Graeme was to tell me that he had visited one of my websites and had been reading what I had got up to while living and hang gliding in New Zealand from 1985 to 1988. Thinking who is this guy, I lived in New Zealand and was into hang gliding, yet I've never heard of him.

Graeme also became interested in other websites that I had built and was still running at the time, asking if I could build one for him. I was only too pleased to be asked and it only took me a few seconds to reply that I could and would look forward to it. At that time, I was building websites for many people and I must confess that I get my buzz out of life by being able to help others, and for no financial gain I might add. My reward is to see others receiving the acclaim they so rightfully deserved.

A few weeks past and then quite out of the blue Graeme rang me and told me that he would like to take me up on my offer of building him a web site. I believe my first word to him was "GREAT". "Tell me a little about yourself, send me a few photos and I'll do the rest". I was then taken aback and surprised by his answer. "No, it's not for me, but John Dickenson".

The invention of the Modern Hang Glider seems to have been shrouded in mystery and incorrect miss-information for many years. It is only now with the luxury of hindsight, very fast computers, IT media and our constant quest for more and more information, that the story has been slowly unravelled. I'm not sure if it would have been possible fifteen or twenty years ago, as earlier hang gliding historians found out at their cost. As they had published articles and although read by many, nobody seemed to have picked up on what they were saying or did not care. I think I can safely say that any Hang Gliding book published up until now, its early history is completely incorrect.

The definition of a Modern Hang Glider being that it uses an A-Frame and a swing seat or harness hanging from the Centre of Gravity (C of G) point of the glider, to help control its direction of flight. Whereas most of the earlier gliders had a parallel bar system for the pilot to hold onto, and the pilot swung his legs from side to side to control the direction in which he wanted to fly. At times this system was limited and not very successful. Whereas the Dickenson wing was very easy to control and was able to fly in any direction that you wished to go. To prove a point by making a comparison, there were not many gliders using parallel bar systems built after the middle to late 1960's. However, there were thousands upon thousands of Dickenson wings built all around the world. In fact, to this day gliders based on the Dickenson wing control system are still being manufactured in their thousands and flown. It was the easy controllability, the ease of coping and ease of learning to fly that caught the imagination of thousands of would be flyers throughout the world.

As a historian I'm aware that when we go in search of information on a subject. The most common research method is to look it up in earlier books. However, when earlier books have the story incorrect, then that wrongful information can and does get passed on. This is what I believe has happened in the case of John Dickenson and the Modern Hang Glider.

There have been many books published on the subject over the past 50 years, and in most cases instead of doing their own independent research they just quoted earlier books. I have been lucky in having two versions to research, the one published in those early books and the one from John Dickenson in person, along with several witnesses of the event in Grafton NSW.

The first published mention of John Dickenson's name outside of Australia that I have found so far. Is an article that was first published by Dan Poynter in his book 'Hang Gliding' The Basic Handbook for Skysurfing, during 1973 was the first and all subsequent editions displayed the same information?

The same article was also given a mentioned in his next book, 'Manned Kiting' The Basic Handbook of Tow Launched Hang Gliders, published during 1974. The first and all subsequent editions also displayed the same information. Published by Daniel F. Poynter Santa Barbara California 93103 USA. ISBN 0-915516-04-7.

In the article Poynter describes John Dickenson as 'The Father of Kiting' and of how he read up on NASA reports, and was the first water skier to put down his flat kite and try a Rogallo. May I suggest that both the latter statements were incorrect and probably helped start the confusion that was to follow hang gliding for many years? Poynter then went on to say that it was Dickenson who introduced the Rogallo (incorrect I suggest it was a Dickenson wing) to fellow water ski kite men Bill Bennett and Bill Moyes, which is correct.

During those early years there were also many descriptions of the Dickenson wing. In Australia from where it had been invented, in most cases it was referred to as a kite. This can be verified by reading many of the early Australian water skiing magazines of the day, and to also check out Bills Moyes and Bill Bennett's flying history.

Although the Hang Glider did not have its first flight in the UK until March 1972, I joined the ranks of many who wanted to take it up, and was flying, no ground skimming by early 1973. Of its history I knew very little until that is the name Rogallo popped up its head. Then the confusion started. Flying most weekends in different parts of the country David Cook and I noticed that during some of the many pub visits after flying, that sometimes he was referred to as Professor while in others its was Doctor (Dr.) and even an Engineer. What we decided to do was where ever we were drinking we would wait until the locals mentioned his name, be it Dr or Professor, and that was the name we used for weekend. It became a standing joke amongst our small group from Suffolk. What I do know is that if an academic is introduced incorrectly, the very first thing he does is to correct his introduction. We found no evidence of Francis ever correcting, whether it be in a magazine article or at a meeting. It's turned out that he is just plain Mr Francis Rogallo. The sad thing is we released the news just before Francis passed away. It was too late we could not re-tract our statement, so we left it. However, it was true and so far to date nobody has come up with any evidence to prove us wrong.

Copyright 2012 Graeme Henderson.

"Lilienthal and Chanute might be considered as the fathers of hang gliding, but their gliders were fragile and hard to control in turbulent conditions. The sport of hang gliding really began in Australia in 1963, when John Dickenson invented the modern hang glider. The glider was robust, able to withstand many crashes and still fly, easy to transport and store. The design could be comprehended after a moment's viewing and replicated with no special tools, materials or knowledge. The control system was intuitive and efficient. The glider was so easy to fly that one would become a pilot and achieve Icarus' dream simply by running off a hill and learning on the way down. The magic of Dickenson's device is the perfect coincidence of extreme simplicity, user friendliness and copy-ability. No other aircraft in history is as easy to build, fly and duplicate as the Dickenson wing. Almost 50 years after it was created, it is still the template for Sport Class hang gliders. From 1963 to 1969, the Dickenson wing was boat-towed and released. In 1969, it was foot-launched, ridge-soared and taken around the world. In just six years, the number of Dickenson gliders went from a few dozens to tens of thousands, when hang gliding became part of FAI in the Commission Internationale de Vol Libre (CIVL). The sport of hang gliding has never been honoured by a FAI Gold Air Medal. It makes the CIVL all the prouder to nominate John Dickenson, holder of FAI Hang Gliding Diploma in 2006, for the highest FAI award".

After the submission by Stéphane Malbos (France) it was just a case of wait and see. Finally, on the 18th July 2012, John Dickenson was publicly announced as the winner of the F.A.I. Gold Award. (Fédération Aéronautique Internationale's)

### John Dickenson

### Awards of Significance

Looking back over all the information we gathered and accumulate over the years. It's worth noting that very slowly John Dickenson's name gradually started to appear around the world by the honours others started to bestow upon him.

1993. British Hang Gliding and Paragliding Association: Life Membership.

1993. Hang Gliding Federation of Australia: Life Membership.

1995. The Space Technology Hall of Fame.

1996. Order of Australia Medal. OAM.

2006. Hang Gliding Federation: Certificate of Recognition.

2011. United States Hang Gliding and Paragliding Association: Presidential Citation.

2012. Hang Gliding Federation of Australia: Acknowledgment of invention of the Modern Hang Glider.

2012. Fédération Aéronautique Internationale's (F.A.I.): Gold Air Medal

2013. Royal Federation of Aero Clubs of Australia: Oswald Watt Gold Medal

2013. Recipient of the Chairman's Award for Achievement from Aerospace Australia.

1917. Mr John Wallace Dickenson (OAM) Order of Australia. For significant service to sports aviation, as a pioneer of innovative design and development of hang gliding and para gliding equipment.

### Rod Fuller

May 2012. Now it appears the record is about to be set straight with the Federation Aeronautique Internationale (FAI) awarding the Hang Gliding Diploma, recognising the role Rod Fuller played in the first flight of the Dickenson Wing on the Clarence River during 1963.

Chapter 13

### Stowmarket Nursery

'Lady Luck' has always been with me, as I can remember several near miss accidents and at the last count it totalled 10.

1947. While attending the Stowmarket Nursery school in Lockington Road, I experienced my very first major accident. At the tender age of four years old I scared myself for life.

The playground at the back of the nursery was a concreted area that was surrounded by a three to four-foot-high solid brick wall, to help stop four-year-old children from wandering off and getting lost.

One day while all the children were amusing them-selves in the playground, I found myself pushing a solid wooden train (about two feet high). Instead of pulling it with the string that was attached to the front, as was the usual method of playing with it. However, on this occasion I was pushing it and pushing it fast. In fact, I strongly believed at the time it was the fastest I had ever achieved to date. As I was hoping to cover the full length of the playground in what I believed was a record time.

When I eventual lifted my head up to see where I was going, Crash Bang Wallop! I had ended up slap bang into the brick wall at one end. I cannot remember what happened next. Although I was later told that I completed a full summersault over the engine and was stopped dead when my face made contact with the brick wall.

However, I ended up with a rather large scar on my upper lip just under my nose. At least it did prove the incident had taken place, as I was reminded of the incident every time I looked in a mirror. Later during my early teenage years, it haunted me badly and I became very self-conscious that it made me look ugly, and worse of all the girls would not give me a second glance.

Although with that wonderful tool known as hindsight I can report that as time went on it gradually started to fade. By the time I was in my late twenties it had almost become invisible. (Thanks to God I say).

Better not mention to much about this as others might say, "Told you that at some time he'd had a knock on the head.

This incident has always haunted me into believing that it may have been the first of my Nine lives to have been used up. As far as I was concerned I was now down to only Eight.

### Chapter 14

Thrashing Machine

1948. While still living on the top of Creeting Road Stowmarket, along with my Grandparents. Each year on a prearranged day a harvesting team would arrive in a field near the house. Along with a corn Thrashing machine and a Steam Engine (although later it was an International Tractor) to drive it. Both these engines used a very long six-inch-wide belt that was attached between the tractor or steam engine to the Thrasher Machine. These belts were very dangerous, being several meters long and were not tight. Allowing them to wobble about, dipping and swaying. There were several stories going around about people who had walked into the belts and been badly cut and left with server injuries to their face.

The Thrashing machine would be parked by the haystack, so the sheaths of wheat or corn could be loaded straight into the machine to have the grains removed from the ears and stems. The corn grains ended up in sacks attached to the side of the thrasher, while the waste known as chaff was blown out the back and onto the ground. Other tumbles (Horse drawn trailers) full of wheat would also keep arriving from other nearby fields. This process would go on from early morning until it got too dark to see. It went on for more than a week, or as long as it stayed dry.

At that time, it was always light in the evening's right through to almost 11pm. I believe it was known as double summer time. Unlike today when the UK alters their clocks by one hour. During the war and just after they were altered by two hours. This was to assist the farmers to gather their harvest. Although jobs like cutting and thrashing could not be carried out if the corn was damp.

The thrashing team usually consisted of around a dozen men, brought in especially for the job. The farmers having to hire them in order to bolster up their own work force. They were also a big attraction for the young children in the area and several would be seen walking around the field and watching.

I was one of those who almost walked onto the long speeding drive belt. Being grabbed by one of the workers as my face was about to make contact with the belt. I was later told that I was only a couple of inches away from disaster, and possibly another scar being added to my face.

I'm sure this was my second life, now I was down to Seven.

### Chapter 15

Guy Fawkes Rock

1949. Clive Barnard and I were terrors when we got together, getting into all sorts of trouble. One day after a Guy Fawkes bonfire night (5th November), we were going around collecting up all the dead fire work casings lying around, when I found a very large one. A fight developed between us, ending when Clive picked up a large stone and threatened to throw it at me, if I did not give him the firework. I said, "Go on then throw it" and he obliged and threw it. Splitting open the right side of my head. Lucky for me a passer bye Jeffery Loads (16 years old at the time) saw what had happened and took me home to my parents. Dad had to take me to see Doctor Hayden who practiced opposite the Regal Cinema, to have a few stitches inserted in my scalp. Many years later I saw Jeffery in a bar in Singapore (1963) but I never spoke to him, one of the biggest regrets I have had during my entire life time. What of Clive, well we continued to be friends.

That's two major head injuries, and a possible third and I'm only nine years old. I'm now wondering if it contributed to the person I grew up to be, mentally and physically. Many of my friends have hinted that I'm different to most of their other friends. Hell, does that mean I'm the odd one out?

Near the centre of Stowmarket stood an old Cinema, I believe it was called the 'Palladium', but became known to the locals as the 'Flea Pit'. We used to make fun of it by telling people in the cinema to lift their feet up as it was cruel to stop the rats running around. Although I have to admit that they did show some good films. Far better than the Regal that was in competition with them further up the road.

Next to it was the old Congregational Church that had been bombed during the Second World War. There was still heaps of rubble lying around everywhere, amongst the old large tombstones. Money was being collected in order that it could be rebuilt, but it was a slow process with not much money around at that time, it being only a couple of years since the end of the Second World War.

On one occasion Clive and I had just come out of the Palladium cinema. Having watched a Tarzan film, and not wanting to go straight home. We found ourselves playing around the area of the church that was near the main road. Even though the main area had heaps of rubble fenced off, a few of the tombstones were by the roadside outside of the fenced off enclosure. Anyway, we were playing Tarzan jumping off anything we could climb on to. Until that is I jumped from one large grave stone and landed very awkwardly with one of my feet half on a house brick, twisting my ankle. I then had to hobble all the way home, in great pain using Clive as a support. Poor Clive he always seemed to be around when I got hurt. I spent all night in very bad pain, by the next morning it had blown up like a football. Dad rushed me off to the doctors to be told that I had fractured my ankle. From there I was rushed up to the Ipswich Hospital to have it wrapped in a plaster cast. I can't blame Clive this time although he was there when it happened.

Chapter 16

### Learning to Swim

. I always remember how I learnt to swim, I believe I was seven years old at the time. A group of us who usually played together, also went to the local swimming pool together and played games. We used to try and dare each other to jump into deeper and deeper water. On this particular occasion I was with David Taylor. The pool was three-foot-deep at one end and nine feet six inches deep at the other. At the shallow end I could easily stand on the bottom and have my shoulders above the water level.

We would try walking into deeper and deeper water, to see who could go the furthest. I would have the water level to the height of my bottom lip. In trying to better this, we also started running down the side of the pool from the deep end and jumping in at the shallow end. Seeing who could jump into the deeper water, once again trying to better each other. I completed one of my jumps only to find that with my feet on the bottom, the water ended up above my eyes. Well somehow, I managed to jump up and down, breathing as I bobbed up above the water line, until I finally reached the side of the pool. I think I was only about three feet away from the side at the time, but it seemed like a mile. I even had the thoughts that I was not going to make it and possibly drown. Because there was nobody in the area to see what was happening and help. Due to this incident, rather than be scared, I actually learnt how to swim. Phew that was a close one. I have also had the opinion that I was very close to drowning. As usual I never told my parents what had happened, but I did tell them that I had learnt to swim. And no there was nobody to keep an eye on us, we were left on our own to work it out for ourselves.

### Chapter 17

Dodgem Cars

1952. Once a year a travelling fun fair would arrive in the Combs Ford area and set up on a big field in front of Pikes Garage. It had all the usual sideshow activities, Swinging Boats, a Thriller Ride and Dodgems Cars. One Saturday afternoon Dad took me down for a look and after much coaxing Dad said he would take me for a ride on the Dodgem Cars. In those days there was not much safety built into these cars. I always remember in the middle of the steering wheel was a very large nut that held the wheel on. I believe later it was protected by a foam padded.

Anyway, we were driving around with Dad sitting beside me assisting with the steering when bang, somebody bumped into the back of my car. This knocked my whole body forward smashing my eye onto the nut in the centre of the steering wheel, causing it to split open and stream with blood. Dad had to rush me off to see Doctor Hayden opposite the Stowmarket Regal Cinema. Apparently, it was very bad, and took the Doctor long time to stop the bleeding. I seem to remember that I also blacked out while in the surgery. There was not the urgency there is today, as my Father had to take me up to the Ipswich Hospital the following day on a bus. That was a journey of 12 Miles there and 12 miles back. Boy the accidents are starting to roll in thick and fast, but it did not dampen my spirits about fair grounds. As later I even worked on one assisting Johnny Jones with his Swinging Boats and Side Show. Something I enjoyed doing whenever I got the chance.

Chapter 18

### Motor Bike Shop

After seeing the photo of 'Revetts' motor cycle shop in Stowmarket on face book. It brings back a nasty accident I was involved in right in front of the shop. Although on the other side of the road, and there was no barrier at that time.

Around 1956-7-ish I was walking home towards Combs Ford, from the Secondary Modern School with a group of friends, larking around as school children do. Approaching the Revett's shop that was on the other side of the road. One of the group suddenly started shouting and pointing to the shop window, that they had a new motor cycle on display. Before looking both ways I stepped off the path and attempted to run across the road to have a look. While at the same time a lady was coming down the slight hill on her bicycle heading towards the town centre. Bang, we made contact and I can remember her flying through the air and landing in the middle of the road many meters further down the hill. Apparently, she went over the handle bars of her bike, completing a somersault and landing on her back. Almost in front of a side road next the Howards sweet shop. Immediately my friends rushed towards me seeing if they might be able to help with whatever injury's I might have. I have no recollection of my injuries, but later I did have to see a doctor a couple of times. Upon hindsight it still worries me to this day, that the lady was left on her own. I'm thinking that she just got up and brushed herself down, spoke to me, and left the scene. I have no doubt that I was in the wrong, and that she was an innocent person receiving collateral damage. Which I'm sure she did have. I seem to remember that she might have been a Nurse or a home 'Help Lady'. That made me feel bad, and that it might be reported to my Mother, as she was a government 'Home Help' worker at that time.

I never did get to see the motor bike that day, although it's a foregone conclusion that I did see it another day. It was a good job that it was not a car that hit me, otherwise I'm sure I could have lost my lives that day?

### Chapter 19

Pushing My Luck

1958. July. Upon the end of my schooling I was lucky to have the choice of seven interviews for a job. It was my lucky day, as I also took the very first one on offer. The company was the 3 In 1 company that bottled and tinned House hold products who were looking for a maintenance worker to help maintain the factory. The job entailed maintaining the many machines that filled bottles and cans with product, placing caps and labels on them and then packed them into boxes. Not only that the foreman was my next-door neighbour Mr Taylor. During the interview the Boss My Mr Pearce asked Mr Taylor what he thought of me. His reply was "Well he is always in my back shed with my two boys making and repairing cross country bicycles". "I think he will fit in well", needless to say I got the job. I might add that there was only about twelve of us males working there, amongst about 100 women.

The machines that I had to keep running and maintain, were large complicated Electronic and Pneumatically operated. Filling bottles and tins, while others placed caps on them and others added labels.

One day one of the girls who was operating a machine by hand. Called out to me that there was a problem. I walked over and began talking to her through the machine as I was on the other side. She had to lay a bottle of disinfectant in a specially designed cradle. Then hit a switch with her foot and a label would be stamped on the bottle. Her problem was that the pile of labels within the machine, had a label rolled up and laying on the top of the pile. I needed to remove the problem label, but to do that I should have shut the machine down. Although knowing that it would take time to restart it up. Therefore, I told the lady not to touch anything, and that I would put my hand inside the machine and removed it. Wrong, I knew it was stupid but, in those days, there were no health and safety experts watching your every move. Although once again with that wonderful tool know as hind sight. I should not have attempted to remove the label while the machine was powered up.

I had to squeeze my hand through a very small tight little gap to reach the label. However, the minute I grabbed it between two of my out stretched fingers I heard a click from the machine, followed by other noises.

My first reaction was to immediately with-draw my hand, which I did at lightning speed through a maze of metal. How I managed to get my hand out without losing fingers, or having the complete hand crushed I have no idea, but I did. I was so shocked that I said nothing. Where as in a normal situation I would have been screaming at the operator at the top of my voice and making all sorts of threats. Although upon hind sight I guess I did not, as she was my steady girlfriend at the time. However, I do remember feeling metal touching and brushing my hand as I with-drew it. I strongly believe that I was close to losing my whole arm and maybe my life, had it dragged me into the machine.

Chapter 20

### The Cromer Rotor

1977. Very early Sunday morning I arrived at Cromer cliffs ahead of the usual flyers, so I rigged up and got myself into a position where I could be the first to off. The wind seemed a little stronger than usual. Unfortunately, I did not have a wind gauge with me to check it out. Snowy and Sharpe who had just arrived helped me get the glider into a take-off position on the edge of the cliff. Once in position, I could feel the wind, and it was definitely a little stronger than usual. I did not know what to do and kept asking the guys holding me in position for advice. I could feel the gusts almost trying to tear the glider out of their hands. Suddenly my friend Mel Mayes arrived and shouted over wanting to know what the problem was. I called back asking him what he thought the wind speed was. Although I did not know it at the time, Mel did not have a wind meter either. He called back that it was only about 20 mph, I was later to learn that he was kidding. However, with those words of encouragement, I told Snowy to let go of the nose.

I shot up 50 feet in the first second of the flight and I immediately knew I was in trouble. As other people turned up, they registered the strength of the wind to be almost 30 mph. Anyway, I continued to go straight up and started drifted back behind the take-off point below. There was no way that I could penetrate the wind and as I watched the golf course appear under me, I knew I was in a lot of trouble. It was well documented that there was a bad rotor just back of the take off point. Without any warning the A frame bar was wrenched from my hands swinging me around in a 360 manoeuvre. I can remember calling out to the golfers below me not wanting to crash land into them. Then as I realigned up facing out to sea, another giant gust just pushed me straight down towards the ground, but at least I was still horizontal. I crashed dead level in to the ground about halfway up the hill from the main road, smashing my body into the bottom of the A frame. I could not believe that I walked away from that crash with only one broken A frame side tube. I could not even feel any pain, until that is Snowy made me laugh, and a sudden pain struck me in the right side of my chest.

That afternoon I had to go to my Mother's in Stowmarket for tea. By the time I arrived my chest was killing me with pain and when I looked at it, the whole left side was black with bruises. On the way home, I had to call in to the Ipswich Hospital for a check-up. In those days, if you were injured while hang gliding it was classed as self-inflicted wounds and you were charged for some of the hospital services. I told the nurses that I had braked very sharp in my car, and that I had hit my side on the steering wheel. It seemed to get them off my back, although they did nothing for me other than give me a couple of aspirins. I then had to suffer the pain for a further couple of weeks. Somehow, I had survived another near-death experience. Yes, it was a time when Seat Belts had not been invented.

### Chapter 21

### Helicopter Near Miss

1978. During May I was in involved in a Helicopter Near Miss incident while flying my Hang Glider on the Mundesley cliff site (North Norfolk). At the time, I was Lodging in Norwich while on the Electricians course and had slipped up after work in an effort that I might enjoy a couple of hours flying.

As I was flying backwards and forwards in front of the cliff, when I suddenly heard a deep thumping noise of an engine. As I looked around, I spied a helicopter coming straight at me from the sea at a fast rate of knots. My first reaction was that I was going to die as I remembered hearing of Bob Wills in America, who had died just a few weeks earlier. He had been filming an advert for Levi Jeans. As he was trying to land on to a moving jeep, the helicopter doing the filming moved off station. In doing so the wash from his rotor blades flipped over Bob's glider and he was killed instantly.

My second reaction was to dive my glider in order to get out of his way as quickly as possible. However, as I did this I turned to look behind me and was horrified to see that he was actually following me. I guess the pilot did not know the dangers that he posed me, if I was to catch the wash from his blades.

I have always believed that he was showing his passengers on board, the beautiful site of a hang glider in the air. I also thought that he did not know my restrictions, because at that time I could only fly back and forth in front of the cliff. This was not an area where I could catch a thermal and in doing so head off inland, no I could not get out of his way. Once I had landed on the beach, it was only a matter of minutes before a police officer arrived to take a statement from me. It was obvious that the chopper pilot had report me before I could report him. I have always said that I survived because the sea breeze was coming in from the sea in a northerly direction and that the Bristow owned chopper had approached me from a north easterly direction. As he was returning from one of the gas rigs far out in the North Sea. A big inquiry was held, and I was found guilty of violating the choppers air space. However, and lucky for me no further action was taken. On a lighter note, the Civil Aviation Corporation allowed us to remain flying at the site even though it was within the Choppers landing area. This also lead to a friendly liaison between the Northfolk Hang Gliding Club and RAF Coltishall whose landing area came over the Mundesley flying site.

### Chapter 22

Parachute Malfunction

1980. In September I attended the annual British Hang Gliding Championships at Mere. The sport had come a long way in such a short time. By now, some flyers were using parachutes in case of accidents in the air. The idea being that if your glider folded, you could grab a parachute that was attached to your harness via pieces of Velcro strip, you could then throw it to one side, hoping it would not tangle with your broken glider. Although none as far as I can remember were ever rested.

During a distance competition, I was flying against Judy Leaden (who later became the Woman's World Champion). I had drawn the long straw and had chosen to take off first. This would be an advantage for me as I could choose the right time to launch. The rules stated that Judy would have to wait 30 seconds and then follow me within a further 30 seconds time period. Therefore, I could wait for a thermal to come up to the hill. If you can imagine that a thermal is a circle of air, as the outside edge of that circle comes onto the hill, if you took off into that circle your glider would go up. While behind that outer circle would be what we call the eye of the thermal, a dead area where nothing happens. Once the eye has gone through, the other outer edge comes through and if you can catch this, it will once again take you up into the air. When the thermal has gone through there is a possibility that there would be no lift for the person taking off behind you and this is exactly what I did. As I walked a few steps forward and pushing my A frame away from me, I was then whisked up into the rising air that took me up above the take-off ridge. I looked behind chuckling to myself, knowing that Judy would have missed the thermal. Because of the time restrictions on her, she had to take off even though she knew that she would probably have to go straight down to the valley below far sooner than I had to. In other words, I had more than likely won the race, because I would be able to fly that little bit further.

I got myself into a comfortable position for what I believed would be along flight. I suddenly heard a loud whooshing sound. My first reaction was to look up, expecting to find that the sail had gone or at least had been badly torn. To my amazement, it was in one piece and in perfect flying order. I then looked down towards the ground that I assessed as being about 800 feet below. To my horror my parachute had accidentally fallen out of its deployment bag and was unfolding in a straight line below me. The minute it had completely unfolded and because I was moving forward, it went behind me and started to open. It was as though one minute I was flying forward at 30 mph and the next as the chute became fully inflated and I came to a dead stop. It was like being attached to a rather large bungee rope, one minute I was going forward at a fast rate of knots and the next it felt like I was going backwards. Because the hang glider lost air speed it suddenly went into a violent steep dive. I could see the ground coming up quite fast towards me, but I had no idea what to do next. In a normal steep dive without a parachute the gliders were trimmed to automatically pull out, although I've often wonder if they would at only 800 feet. This accidental deployment had never happened to anybody up until then, so there were no rules or any guideline as to what action I could take.

At first it seemed like everything was happening in slow motion and I was in a head down position. The first thing I did was to turn my body around so that my feet would hit the ground first. Then I stepped up on to the A frame (control bar) and found myself crouching in an uncomfortable position. Then as the glider hit the ground I pushed myself away from the A frame, making sure that it did not make contact with my face or head. Once the dust had settled the wind got into the chute and started to drag the hang glider and myself across the field. It took a couple of quick thinking people standing close by, to run over and save me from further damage by deflating the chute.

While all this was going on, Emily my wife was shopping in the nearby town of Mere. Unfortunately, Mark my young son was on the hill amongst all the competitors and spectators who were watching my flight. Once the chute came out of its deployment bag, somebody shouted "He's Dead". Poor old Mark I do not know what he thought about what happened or what had been said, and to this day I've never asked him. However, I did survive although I broke my sternum and a couple of bolts on the glider. I lived to fly another day as we used to say. Although it was a hard pill to swallow, as I lay on the ground and watched Judy fly over where I was lying, and I'm sure she had a smile on her face. However, I'm not sure who did win the event.

There was a strange out come to this accident, which affected many people. At that time, there had been an argument amongst flyers that in low-level accidents a Parachute would not open in time to help you. My crash had clearly demonstrated and proved this argument invalid, because clearly it did work. From that day, the sale of parachutes in the UK escalated, and it soon became the norm to wear one. However, after my little accident I never wore a parachute ever again. Even though John Hudson owner of the 'Mainair Sportswear' company had given me one of their chutes, after I endorsed their product, I never wore another Parachute. I might also add that a friendly Jumbo jet pilot flying out of Heathrow, had brought the chute I had been wearing into the country from America. It came from Jim Hansberry, who at that time was the World Free Fall Parachute Champion and was manufacturing them in America.

While on the subject of Parachutes. I took the aerial shots of David Cooks Shadow. A three-axis controlled Microlight he had designed and built himself. He wanted to test out a new parachute system that was attached to the Shadow. I flew above him as he raced down the runway at top speed and nearing the end of the run way it was deployed and stopped in a very short distance. David went on to sell many of the Shadows all over the world. I even helped in the setting up of his factory in Leiston Suffolk.

### Chapter 23

Pan Am Flight 103

### Lockerbie

1988. December. Upon my return flight to Australia I flew by way of Scotland, where I passed over the exact spot that the 'Pan-Am flight 103' aircraft was blown out of the sky. Lucky for me I was on board an earlier flight from Heathrow just ahead of the incident. However, I can still remember the pilot telling us that Glasgow was on the left and that Edinburgh was on the right. Which meant that at some time we flew over the town of Lockerbie, although unknown to us at the time.

Later while in the USA I was to learn that the aircraft had been blown up. I guess I had just lost another of my nine lives. To add to that list the day after I left Germany a military plane slammed into a building near a nuclear site. Then the day after I arrived in London, a major rail accident took place on the Airport line. Oh well there goes another couple of my lives, must be getting close now.

My flight home continued on to Iceland, Greenland, Canada and right down the centre of the America to Dallas, arriving two hours late. The flight had taken twelve hours because of very strong head winds, so I missed my connecting flight to San Francisco. Catching a later flight, I was then stranded in San Francisco having missed my Quanta's Flight to Australia by five minutes. The Airline company put me up in a Hotel, but I was called back to the Airport two hours later. There was a possibility of a standby seat. However, after all the rushing around that fizzled out. Therefore, I decided to wait around the Airport just in case another seat became available. Although, being Christmas time, it was virtually impossible to get a standby seat. So, I hung around for two more days wearing the same clothing, until I finally managed to get a flight home via Honolulu. I was glad to be on the move again, two days sleeping in Airport chairs and living on junk food was not very enjoyable. The Airline had fed me but did not want to give me any financial support. Instead they gave me $6.00 US vouchers for a breakfast, but the cheapest breakfast at that time cost $11.00. After several arguments with them, one of the hostesses gave me a hand full of vouchers that helped dull my hunger pains within.

Many hours later I was lucky enough to be offered a seat on an aircraft that was heading to Honolulu. Well at least it was a little closer to Australia, so I grabbed at the offer. In Honolulu I was treated to a nice meal provided by the Airline company, and to my amazement I was then offered a seat on a flight to Sydney, which I accepted without hesitation.

I even missed my connection at Sydney for Brisbane and to cap it all, upon arriving at Brisbane my luggage was lost. It turned up in Hong Kong and came home via Melbourne. However, I did manage to get home on Christmas Eve. Although at one time I was very worried that I would not make it. It was great to be home with Emily once again. I had been away for five weeks, but it seemed more like five months. Again, I made a promise to myself not to travel alone in the future.

However, for Emily it had been even worse because in those days there were no mobile phones, or at least I never had one. Emily had been expecting me to arrive home on a certain day. We had arranged that I would phone her from Brisbane Airport on my arrival and take a taxi home. With me being several days late she was starting to worry where I was. Add to that the television news were plastering the air waves with the sad news of the Pan-Am flight 103 crash in Lockerbie Scotland. She was starting to get very worried. At one time she rang Lindgrens (the company I worked for) to see if they knew where I was, which they did not. Anyway, it all turned out for the better when I eventually arrived home and we spent a long time in each other's arms.

No. 1. My Proudest moment of all and number one Achievement is being able to say that I was part of a small team of dedicated Aviation Historian from around the world, that were able to 'Corrected History'.

No. 2. Followed by the writing of my Autobiography.

No. 3 To take part in Sir Winston Churchill's funeral.

No. 4. Being able to build and run my own, and many other websites.

No. 5. My Daughter Sharon was the singer in one of my bands, while my wife Emily was a drummer in another.

During the last couple of months, I have been in and out of Hospital more than a dozen times. Guess I'm waiting to see my past life rushing past my eyes, and am hoping what I have all the details correct? As there is no way I will be able to correct my Autobiography?
Other Books by this Author

**'Almost Total Recall'** an Autobiography by Terry Aspinall. Who grew up in Stowmarket and the Teddy Boy gangs of Ipswich? Later to serve in the Royal Marines Commandos and saw active service in Borneo. Was involved in Hang Gliding during its early days of development in the UK. Played in several Rock N Roll bands around the world, before immigrating to New Zealand and a few years later to Australia.

**'Correcting History'** the invention of the Modern Hang Glider seems to have been shrouded in mystery and incorrect information for many years. It is only now with the luxury of hindsight, very fast computers, IT media and our constant quest for more and more information, that the story has been slowly unravelled. I'm not sure if it would have been possible fifteen or twenty years ago, as earlier hang gliding historians found out at their cost. As they had published articles and although read by many, nobody seemed to have picked up on what they were saying or did not care.

**Coincidence. Right Place Wrong Time.** Having served in the Royal Navy, Police force, and currently working for MI5. Dave Slater finds himself found guilty of murder. A crime he did not commit. A couple of years later and after his release from prison, he is once again accused of committing another murder. Is it a Coincidence or just bad luck? Being in the Right Place at the Wrong Time.

**'Royal Marines 350 Years'** is a brief history of the Royal Marines that were formed way back at 11.58 am on Tuesday 28th October 1664 by King Charles II. It describes some of its history up to the present day. Along with its traditions that have moulded Royal Marines into what has always been one of the finest fighting military forces in the world. Those that they fought in battle were so impressed with their courage and skill that their countries formed their own version of the Marines. To copy is the best form of flattery, a way to acknowledge just how great the Royal Marines were respected. Once A Marine Always a Marine.

**'Landguard Fort'** Royal Marines Museum'. Royal Marine museum is within the Landguard Fort complex situated at the southern end of Felixstowe (Suffolk). It is the last place a foreign invading force landed and was defeated on the British main land. It was also the very first battle that the Royal Marines fought on land, having been formed only three years earlier during 1664.

**'The British Hang Gliding History'** is an updated history of how the Hang Glider was invented in Australia during 1963, and of how it arrived in the UK to be manufactured and flown for the first time during 1972. This book is a shortened version of the successful website of the same name www.british-hang-gliding-history.com there are working hyperlinks to the BHGA early Hang Gliding magazine 'Wings' and the BMAA early Microlight magazine 'Front Line'.

**'Transfer Music from iPod to Computer'** This is just a short easy to follow free article that I'm sure will help many people to move their music collections from their iPod and iPads to their computers. I do not use legal or illegal software that usually bring loads of other rubbish into your computers. It will only take you a few minutes to learn and a couple of hours to move folders and files around on your computer.

**'An Easy Guide to Self-Publish Your E-book'** this short book will enable you to self-publish your work in E-book format with Smashwords.com. Its valuable information that can get you started on a literary career. It's short, basic, and very easy to follow. It covers the so-called tricks of the trade and mistakes that I learnt along the way. Explaining to the reader a rough idea of what will or won't be accepted with their publication.

**'Aldeburgh'** **Photo Memories 2014** is a collection of photo's that were taken during a short holiday stay in the town during September 2014. It's my way of being able to remember the trip and to also allow my friends and family to enjoy what Aldeburgh offers. My wife grew up in Aldeburgh and could not believe the changes that had taken place over the past thirty years. People who keep this E-book record will be able to use it in the future as further changes take place as the town changes and grow.

**'Birkdale Road'** A photo album capturing the different colours that are annually displayed and enhance the Birkdale Road just east of Brisbane Australia. As with most countries one can usually tell the time of year by the vegetation that nature displays all around us. I get a great sense of pleasure looking at the different colours that enhanced the Birkdale road, and of their constant changes that take place during the different seasons.

**'The Fabulous Spawlszoff Brothers'** a fictitious story, that is based on actual funny events that the author has experienced during his 50 years in the music industry.

**'Johnny Morris and the Convertibles'** is a fictitious story that is based on actual events that the author has experienced during his 50 years in the music industry.

**'Chasing Shadows'** this novel is about Englishman Michael J. Thompson. Who joined the Australian Army, so he could serve in Vietnam during 1968. There were only a very few British who got to fight in this theatre of war and Michael was one of them. Michael had his own ideas of jungle training and fighting that he had learnt in other theatres of war. Where they had worked well and saved many lives. He always wanted to help others survive in a hostile environment. Where your next step could kill you if you walked into a bobby trap or ambush. His ideas on cross border patrols where later to be adopted by other western countries. However, his special teams were at their best on information gathering patrols. His golden rule was 'To see but not be seen and eat nothing red'.

**'The Kansas Rascal'** Ten years after his wife died, Australian Bradley Newman is living a lonely life. Never being able to accept her death has made it hard for him to find another partner. His love of music and magic has been his saving grace. Accepting that he will never find that special person that could replace her. After his son sets him up with a computer he becomes excited at the prospect of learning a new technology. Then by chance during 1998 while on line he meets a girl from America and falls in love with her. However, he has not the courage to tell her of his feeling. He secretly flies to America to meet up with her but walks into a lot of trouble that he did not see coming. Feelings of love can sometimes blind the beholder.

**'The Autumn Reunion'** A fictitious story of a school reunion that tempted James through the painful journey of having to choose one girlfriend above another.

**'The Adventures of Henri and Charlie'** is a very young children's short story about the authors pet Peach Face Parrot and Canary that escape from their cages and are taken on a wild ride, with no hope of returning to the security of their own cages back home. In this story, the birds talk to each other.

**'Matthew Returns'** Matthew has been discharged from the British Army after serving 22 years. He returns to Suffolk and the small countryside town of Stowmarket, in which he grew up. At first, he finds it hard to settle back into the life he once knew. Finding it hard to obtain employment with skills he had picked up while serving in the Army. However, a shock awaits him when it comes to finding himself a girlfriend.

**'Unexpected'** John is in a great relationship with his partner until the day she disappears. His friends and the locals turn against him, thinking that he has done something wrong. Luckily, he befriends somebody who takes him for who he is. However, he is in for a shock and an ending that he did not expect.

**'One of A Kind'** Chris Lawler was born into a military orientated house hold and his Officer Father forces him to join the Army that leads to the SAS. He goes on to Join the French Foreign Legion. To later find himself in Vietnam and later Angola. Eventually joining the Royal Marines and serving in Northern Ireland **.**
