As Dave Gilmour of Pink Floyd would have it:
"can't keep my eyes from the circling skies"....
(actually not one of their better efforts, but appropriate)

In 1968 I was a little boy in shorts and long socks with one of those stupid 'long on top but shaved up the back' haircuts we all had in the 60s (well, except for Mick Jagger, obviously).
I was at Farnborough, holding my hands over my ears. Large silver things screamed across the field fast and low; noisily, or completely silently followed by a huge bang. Overland supersonic flying was still legal in those pre-Nanny state days, despite never-confirmed stories of broken windows and miscarrying cows.
The shock and awe of a SAAB Viggen going supersonic 250ft over the runway or an F-15 Eagle taking off on full reheat, pointing the nose vertical, and accelerating in to the blue..... not easily forgotten.

So, from a young age I was going to be a pilot. It was simply accepted and just a matter of time and A-levels.
The RAF taught me to glide in wooden gliders well enough for me to do several solo flights, taught me to shoot and parachute; and taught me the basics of powered flying in Chipmunks.
We would waddle out to the aircraft with parachutes hanging off our bottoms, then the RAF pilots would start the engines with shotgun cartridges, we'd zoom off in to the blue and they would delight in doing aerobatics and trying to make us throw up. I remember hanging out of the straps upside down at 5,000ft as bits of debris floated upwards to the canopy thinking this had to be the coolest thing you could possibly do; I amassed so many hours in the Chipmunks they started to teach me approaches and landings. One 30 minute session per term month was a very slow way to learn to fly, and I was promised more and better flying if I signed up for University and then a commission. I was hooked.... I didn't want to be a fighter pilot; either a helicopter or Hercules transport pilot would have suited me.

But Fate intervened in the form of childhood German measles that had affected my eyesight, requiring an operation and leaving me with a measurable but unnoticeable squint, one of the few red flag medical conditions unable to be corrected by glasses, thus permanently preventing enrollment in the RAF as a pilot.
"You could be a navigator" they said, but even in those days I knew moving-map GPS displays would one day supplant the human in the back seat. Who has navigators now?

This being March 1980 (fuel crisis, power cuts, IMF loans, Winter of Discontent, strikes, Maggie fighting the Unions, queues at the petrol pumps, constant drizzle, CND on the march, you get the picture...) no commercial pilot training slots were available. Anywhere.
At 17 I was washed up, unable to fulfil my most fondly held ambition.

Like most people, I got over it and got on with my life in different directions but deep down, that flying bug and the Biggles effect have never really gone away. Every time I hear a light aircraft droning over I've always looked up enviously. Even flying in the back of commercial aircraft as "Self Loading cargo" has always been a particular pleasure.
For 25 years the latent Biggles was held back by a lack of money caused by unappreciative employers, high mortgage rates, high taxes, wife, children and school fees. But in 2001 a business trip to California left me with a spare day and at the entrance to Sonoma County Airport near Santa Rosa, and of course there was a flying school right next door.....
Inside 40 minutes the magnetic attraction of the aircraft inside had sucked me in and spat me out airside with a friendly instructor ready for a pre-flight, a refuel, a wobbly taxi around the apron, a less wobbly taxi to the holding point, a wonky take-off and a slow, rough climb to altitude in an old Cessna 152. Some nice 30° and 45° banks, working the throttle to achieve a 360° turn at the same altitude, some constant speed climbs and descents, some tinkering with the trim tabs, some compass work (and how it caome back quickly, it had been a long time since I'd flown a plane) and a return to the field. Rau, my instructor, did the radio thing then left it to me and went to sleep in the right-hand seat until I cocked up the cross-wind leg on the approach and nearly took out an approaching water-bomber ("No, that's the runway you want, leave him alone"). Oops.
An hour later my brand new FAA Jeppesen logbook (later looked on with amusement by the CAA) was signed, updated and a copy of William K Kershner's Student Pilot's Flight Manual was in my hands. I was hooked.......
However, it would be another 5 years before the finances were anything like up to the strain of a PPL, and I was damned if I was going to start learning, then stop again because of a lack of money.
During a holiday in South Africa in the Spring of 2006 I visited Johannesburg Lanseria Airport and had a second trial lesson with an enthusiastic young Afrikaaner over the High Veldt. It was enough to convince me the time was right to push the button, and in June 2006, I walked into the PFT office at Kidlington and quoted the magic incantation:
"Will you teach me to fly?"

Lesson 1 The lure of the windswept airfield
To a rusty ex-glider pilot powered flying seems a logical progression: the control movements and a large proportion of the preflight routine are the same: the "Take up slack" and "All Out" messages you yell through the glider window are replaced by a "Clear Prop!" call, there are a few more instruments and you don't have to tap the altimeter on the way down lest it stick!
And you have radios, which are a new experience, as well as the headsets, and the headsets are necessary - it's noisy in there.
First impression is that the engine sounds very rough: the technology of light aircraft flying is very conservative and has barely advanced beyond the 1930s. So carburettors, mechanical fuel pumps, large unstressed aircooled engines, mainly flat 4s to keep the front of the nose low so you can see to land.
Magnetos, didn't they go out with the Ark? But at this level they make sense: the simpler things are the more reliable they are and reliability is what keeps accident statistics down. If your car engine fails, you call the AA. If you aircraft engine fails, you may well crash, and the landing will be at best merely hair-raising...

So off down the taxiway and there's no steering wheel, you have toe-brakes on each wheel, which take a bit of getting used to. Lots of radio chat, some power checks then it's back to glider time: smooth acceleration then it's stick back and up you go. No cable release; it's just power out of the circuit and off into the wide blue yonder. Easy!

Airfields, like ports, are by definition wide open empty spaces and thus every bit of wind is evident: even though it seems a nice day there's a hell of a crosswind and a lot of thermals once in the air. Once airborne, it's just as bumpy and thermally as I remember glider flying to be. Basic rules are the same, but the engine takes a bit of getting used to. It's a bit wayward and keeps trying to take the airframe places you don't want it to go: like a puppy, it needs constant realigning to make it go where you want it to go.

This is merely a check ride, so we play about and within a few seconds (or that's how it seems) we're back in the circuit for a fairly exciting crosswind landing on tarmac (luxury, when I were young we 'ad grass and were thankful for it....) and a postflight dissection. I am pronounced "teachable". So off we go.....

Lesson 2 Not as easy as it seems
Wildly over-confident following last week's lesson and finding I know a lot of the theory in the first 8 chapters of both UK and US PPL Bibles, my instructor brings me back to earth by telling me all my answers to the secondary effects of controls are wrong. I slink sullenly out to the aircraft thinking "well at least I know how to drive it...".

Miss one of the wheel brakes and nearly taxi the aircraft into Michael Schumacher's private jet, then keep winding the trim wheel the wrong way whilst practising Recovery to Straight and Level Flight (Mr Cholmondeley-Warner....) and wondering why we're in a power-dive 1,000ft over Banbury. My instructor is long-suffering, let's hope the good folks of Banbury are too ("Oh my God, he's booked to fly again, quick... women and children first, head for the hills........")

It's harder than it looks, this powered stuff. There's a lot to think about, by the time you've got the wings level, the pitch correct, the power set to the correct revolutions, the fuel on the right tank, the turn and slip co-ordinated, the compasses matching and pointing in the right direction, and you're not about to fly in to anyone... And we haven't even looked at landing yet.

After a sweaty hour my poor instructor pops us back on the tarmac and we head for a well-deserved glass of cold water.

But it's not over... I have a new Air Law book to wade through as well.

I'll be less over-confident next week.

Lesson 3 Taking Control
After a two week hiatus and with a new pair of sunglasses to replace my Pete Townsends, I'm ready again.
The transfer from passenger to commander continues apace: now I can preflight the aircraft, start and taxy it and do the preflight checks.
But my take-off attempt veers towards the parked helicopters and we perform an undignified banana-shaped trajectory. The control tower rocks with laughter.

All I have learned begins to come together: I can climb, descend and hold a heading, but my internal compass must be skew-wiff because if I take my eye off the instruments we slowly swing to port and I have to keep correcting. My instructor blames the engine torque but I blame my brain....

It's a hot day and thermals off fields and roads make the ride bumpy, but that's normal. We do co-ordinated turns and when I do my normal "turn it on a sixpence to catch the thermal" bank my instructor thinks I am pushing it a bit. Apparently steep turns are later in the syllabus (but that wasn't steep.....)

I feel less of a passenger: the reflexes are coming back.

Medical aside
Oh, ha bloody ha....
It's off to the Doc for a Class II CAA medical. I get a trace of my own ticker (well, at least I know it's still going, if a liitle erratically on occasions), a sore finger where he took blood, and an accurate measurement of the infamous squint (which has managed to get better over the last 25 years). Apparently this is no longer a red flag medical condition to the RAF: if I was 18 and applied, it would no longer preclude me from flying.
B A S T A R D S
I now hate the RAF and will be duly applying for all my PPL costs to be reimbursed by the War Department.
The Doc squints at my weird blood pressure readings but pronounces me Fit to Fly for the next 2 years.
Rock and Roll.......

And now I'm flying in my sleep... Power, Attitude, Trim, except at the top of a climb when it's Attitude, Power, Trim. And carb heat in descents. And roll out 10° before you achieve your desired heading. And bootfuls of rudder on take-off. And.... And.....

Lesson 4 A backward step?
Another two week weather-induced hiatus and my newly medically-assured status has me more confident in pre-flighting the aircraft. After starting the hot, reluctant engine (well this Cherokee is 30 years old) , I do the taxying neatly, the radio badly, all the take-off (bootfuls of rudder, bootfuls of rudder!) and climb to a useful height through the bumpy thermals, avoiding yesterday's Harrier crash site.
Serious Progress.

But today's instructor seems convinced we need to do the same lesson as last time: climbing and descending. I'm a bit bored with climbing and descending; I want to do exciting stuff like steep turns, stalls and spinning. It feels like a backward step, until we try descending with flaps, which feels like you're standing the aircraft on it's nose, and he tells me this is how we land. Ah hah, there was a point to this exercise after all...

Now he wants Turns. Well I can do bloody Turns, I do have a glider licence. So we go round and round (and round) for half an hour. There's a small village just outside Banbury that is now convinced we're spying on them. This is boring. Just for fun I flip it over to 70° and he finally gets the message.

He asks me to head for the circuit and I feel cheated (Stalls! Spinning! Fun!). And this time I do all the downwind leg, all the crosswind leg and all the final, plus an overshoot as the aircraft in front of us runs on to the grass and they have to check for mud, then a second circuit all the way down to a crosswindy 30ft or so where the instructor wakes up and decides he ought to earn his keep by preventing me from visiting the grass as well. Wheeeeeeee!!!!!!

Not a backward step after all. If it hadn't-a-been for the crosswind I'd have landed it as well. Cool bananas.

Lesson 5 It's a drug
Another 3-week holiday-induced delay and we're back in the cockpit. This particular Cherokee has a roof-mounted trim wheel like those handles you used to open your sunroof with, in the days before air-conditioning in cars.

Today we're doing slow flying, if we can get enough height under the humid clouds. 3,200ft we need so off we go in to the late afternoon haze, and this time, apart from veering off the centreline of the runway on take-off (again), I do the take-off and climb out OK. We brush the underside of the clouds as we search for a gap to climb into, and the world looks fantastic from up here with shafts of sunlight picking out individual fields.

We find a hole and climb in to it. 3,200ft, HASELL check (Crowds, Clouds, Cities, Controlled Airspace). A quick 360° check then power right back, carb heat on, stick all the way back. The controls are mushy and the stall warning light's flickering. Eventually, after a great deal of prodding, the poor old Cherokee reluctantly stalls. OK, the nose drops and we lose 400 ft, less with immediate power application. One to look out for, especially when turning at low level. Some circuit work (I'm getting better at setting these up) and I fly the approach and...er.... the flare, almost. Not quite enough flare, a little instructor assistance and we're down.

Only after we land do I realise I'm sweating like crazy but apart from the last few feet of the landing I did it all myself. Apparently I only need one more lesson of stalls then I'm on to circuit-bashing which is where I get to embarrass myself in front of the control tower continually by messing up approaches and landings...
Progress indeed.

I've seen the future....
The day after the previous lesson is the Flying School Open Day. I only have an hour for domestic reasons but manage to snag a guy who has just bought $300,000 worth of brand-new Cirrus SR-20, and offers me a flight. How can I possibly refuse? The wife will kill me....
Imagine a 1965 Morris Minor Traveller: vinyl seats, chrome controls, carburettored underpowered A-Series engine, cross-ply tyres, drum brakes, half-timbered rear bodywork (thanks, Dame Edna Everage.....) and those hokey sticky-out Lucas electric indicator stalks that used to break down every few weeks (I'm allowed to make the Lucas jokes; I used to work for them...).
That's a Piper Cherokee.

Now compare it with a brand new BMW 3 series.
That's the Cirrus. And he lets me fly it.
All-composite airframe, stall-resistant wings, two doors, fuel-injected engine with oodles of power, dual GPS systems, spin parachute, comfy seats with proper 5-point harnesses and a glass cockpit so we have weather radar, collision avoidance radar, virtual VOR/DME navigation systems, electronic airfield maps on demand, a radar transponder and an autopilot. And it even makes the tea (well, not quite, but it's close)
Now this is an aircraft that you can use to actually go places rather than potter about. It takes about the advertised 3 seconds to get the hang of the side stick and I cruise all around Oxford at 160 Knots (that's 184mph) as smooth as silk then back to Kidlington in what feels like 30 seconds. He performs the smoothest landing I have ever felt in any aircraft and we taxy back in, both with huge smug smiles.
I want one.......
Actually, very good experience in that I've now flown:
- from the right hand seat
- a modern aircraft
- with a side stick
- with someone who has had their PPL only 3 years and is not an instructor

I'm late in and suffer serious domestic grief...... but it was Worth It!

Lesson 6 flying round the clouds
Today we start the serious stuff. I've taken 8 weeks off work and am having two lessons a day every day in a desperate attempt to get my PPL before the next Ice Age.

We start with me finally sussing out how to get the bloody pilot's seat down, so I'm not banging my head on the roof every time we hit a patch of turbulence.
Today I'm doing all the checks, all the taxying, the radio and even the take-off (bit wiggly still, but improving) and climb-out, then onwards and upwards to try to find a 3,500ft-high hole in the clouds.
This involves some really cool flying around little fluffy bits of cloud, my instructor panicking every time we hit a thermal (it's only a bit of sink). He's far more nervous than I am.
We try stalls with wing drops. The Cherokee doesn't really wing-drop at the stall, so he's trying to induce one by kicking the rudder and I'm kicking it the other way to stop the wing from dropping, so we nearly come to blows.
The poor Cherokee really doesn't like stalling and it's response is very much "oh, well, if you must....", the nose dropping very half-heartedly. The standard response is "control column forward, full power" which I do to his satisfaction at last.

We re-enter the Circuit staring down a huge black cloud that threatens to put an end to our day's flying, and do a passable landing, then I taxy it back and shut down.

My ears really hurt: if I'm going to flying twice a day I'm going to need a good headset that doesn't squash my ears. Off to the flight shop for some serious lunchtime credit card bashing.

Lesson 7 It's not fun any more
This afternoon, with a brand-new headset of my own definitely not squashing my ears or passing infections to me, we're doing circuits.
Up until now, we've done one lesson for each flight, but learning the circuit is where it all comes together and gets really very scary, so you do circuits until you a)pass the Air Law exam and b)learn to land.
Many a trainee pilot has spent months doing circuits, I wonder how long it will take me to escape?

Up until now I've been flying the approaches with lots of assistance from my instructor and he's been doing the last 50ft.
Now he's letting me set up the approaches (which I'm doing all wrong) and do the landings (which I'm doing all wrong) then he's wresting control from me at 10ft just before I wreck the aircraft.
With the added complication of doing the radio the workload is high. By the time we have climbed to circuit height it is time to go down again. On the approach we are always too high / too low / too fast / too slow / off to one side. And my climb-outs are "inaccurate". But finally I get one approximately on the runway and bounce it back in to the air.
What the hell was that?
The next time round we actually get it on to the ground and it sticks there but I know he was helping. And so it goes on.... And my Instructor says I'm one of the better students. What are the others like?
The fun factor is definitely lacking this afternoon, plus we are getting rained on by the aforementioned big black cloud, and by the time we finish uncountable circuits I am drenched with sweat, but at least my ears don't hurt.
New acronym to learn today: BUMMFTCH (no, seriously....)

Lesson 8 Taxying practise
Keen to try out my new kneepad clipboard we slip in to the cockpit on a very cloudy morning for some circuits. Attempt #1 aborts just before engine start as the rain begins to hammer on the airframe and we beat a hasty retreat to the clubhouse.
Three hours later the weather relents sufficiently for Attempt #2 to get as far as the Holding point where my Instructor, despite being offered an immediate take-off slot, makes us Hold just long enough for the weather to close in again.
I would have flown and gained some bumpy circuit experience but for the moment at least, he is In Command, so we taxy back in and shut down. Frustration is the order of the day, so an immediate return for an afternoon with the Air Law book is in order.

Lesson 9 These aircraft have nosewheel steering
Another wet and showery day like yesterday, but a different Instructor, who is a bit more Go-oriented, to put it politely. As the rain clears through we start up and go out.
He's a little mystified by my inability to turn the aircraft sharply on the ground and I calmly explain to him that on my 1st lesson my instructor explained that this was because these aircraft have no nosewheel steering, just differential brakes.
No, he says, these aircraft do have nosewheel steering.......
Which goes to show you can't believe all your Instructor tells you. My taxying promptly improves beyond all measure.
More Circuits today. I do actually get the aircraft over the numbers at the end of the runway every time, which is an improvement. And we finally work out why I'm all over the runway once down and accelerating back in to the air. The moment the Instructor stops "helping" with the rudder pedals it all magically straightens out..... Hmmmmm.
But I'm too low or too high, too fast or too slow, and I'm bouncing on the flare. My Instructor is very patient.
We dodge the thunderstorms all morning before a particularly close bolt of lightning prompts "I think we'll do a full-stop after this approach" and in we go.

Lesson 10 Improvement
After lunch I hang around (and hit the Air Law books) until yet more rain clears through (when will they rescind the hosepipe ban?) then we grab our checklists and go out again. I like this instructor!
The first approach is a complete balls-up so we abort, but on subsequent circuits things start looking better. I'm trimming the aircraft properly at each point in the circuit so everything is less panicked and I feel I'm fighting the controls less.
I'm actually achieving the correct airspeed and position relative to the runway at all points except the turn to Final, but I can't seem to nail the speed on the climb-out or the approach. It feels less like the aircraft is about to fall off a cliff when I put the flaps down but I'm letting the speed and attitude drift during the turn to Final then having to correct like crazy in the last few hundred feet. But better, and the Instructor is making fewer suggestions as we go round, so maybe things are improving.
Again, a huge rain-cloud drifts in to the circuit and we scrape it's underside as we finish the last circuit.
Back to the Air Law books tonight. Nearly ready for the exam.

Lesson 12 Crosswind
The weather really isn't co-operating at all: we've had rain and wind all weekend and now Monday dawns and it still hasn't cleared properly.

9.30am prompt and It's time to take the CAA Air Law exam, having boned up over the weekend. Like all exams, none of the stuff I absorbed comes up, all the stuff I didn't absorb does, being multiple choice often none of the answers are correct, and they ask a question that simply isn't in the book or the syllabus. My Instructor and I agree afterwards that two of the answers are ridiculously ambivalent, but 88% garners a "Pass", so that's another hurdle crossed.

We take off late through a 15 knot crosswind (aircraft limit is 18 knots) and around 4-500ft it's pretty bumpy. There's conflicting sink and thermals but my bump-averse Instructor redeems himself by not scratching the mission.
I manage to tidy up my approaches (the secret is to trim the controls lots, so you're not fighting them all the time) to the point where, despite the crosswind and the bumps, we fly just over the numbers at the start of the runway every time with no drama.
I'm learning not to lift the nose from the ludicrously low position 2 stages of flap places it in for the approach (feels like we're falling off a cliff) and not to panic about running out of runway (there's enough there to land a small airliner on).
With the crosswind the flare is a little "exciting" for a novice but I think a lot of it is conflicting control movements from me and my Instructor.
We don't break the aircraft, but I have a great deal more respect for the landing oleos now. Still, crosswind approaches are a necessary skill, even if it is not necessary just yet.....

Second mission of the day is scrubbed as the wind is just too high for me to learn much. Maybe I do need to trust my Instructor.

Lesson 13 In the groove
Another day, better weather conditions. Winds very near to zero with a few thermals as it's a bit muggy today.
We're back in the aircraft with the roof-mounted trim lever, so I'm not hitting my Instructor in the elbow every time I want to alter the trim. I still keep expecting the sunroof to open, however! This aircraft is more powerful (or maybe I'm flying better) so we reach circuit height a lot faster, leaving more BUMMFTCH time.
With less crosswind, landings are much less exciting and easier to nail accurately. Apart from getting mixed up with the radio calls a bit, and getting undertaken by a fast-moving Seneca (now I know how the average driver feels when I whisk up behind and blast past...) my Instructor is keeping a lot quieter. He's also looking marginally less scared but still panics when we hit a bump.
We're still fighting each other on the controls at touchdown but I'm less scared of running out of runway now as I deliberately left one landing really late, and we easily took off before we'd used half the available remaining runway, so my flares are more relaxed. It's looking better.

Lesson 14 How to really land
After lunch we have another go. Speed control is better, circuit positioning is better, recovery from "a bit high" (less power) is better, recovery from "a bit low" (more power) is better.
After some experiments we extend the downwind leg a bit to give a bit more time on Final and that helps. We've had zero aborted approaches for two days so maybe we're improving.
My Instructor has abandoned the controls at touchdown, and once we nearly do a proper gentle flare and touch but the wind catches us and we thump a bit, but at last I feel I'm getting the hang of this bit.
Judging it right is really hard, everybody gets it a bit wrong sometimes.
Everything else looks good, however, so it's on to Emergency Procedures tomorrow, weather permitting.

Lesson 15 Emergency Engine Outs
With the rain threatening this morning we try some circuits. Different instructor today: I like changing Instructors because each of them has a slightly different take on the manoeuvres. No one is really wrong but I feel some do a thing a better way than others.
I've been drawing little circuit diagrams with radio calls and responses on to ensure I say the right thing at each point, although I still mess it up a lot.
The cloudbase hovers between 1000ft (too low) and 2000ft (OK) and we zip through some reasonable circuits, but the landings are always just that bit rough. I'm not happy.
I can now recover consistently from approaches that are too low, too high, too far right and too far left, so we try some simulated Engine out scenarios, which are scary as these aircraft don't glide very far without the engine.
Eventually a large shower defeats us by sweeping across the airfield and we run for the clubhouse and lunch. There is much discussion over lunch of crash-landing techniques and why we don't learn to sideslip. Mental note: learn to sideslip at earliest possible opportunity, not in Cessna.
My Instructor say my landings are "good enough" but I'm still frustrated by my inability to land smoothly. It's the last 10 feet I just can't seem to get. It's getting a bit depressing.

Lesson 16 Wiper blades please?
This very short lesson starts with my Instructor outlining "engine out in the circuit" procedures (truncated circuits). I remember these from gliding days, only they were called "cable break procedures" and they were a bit scary then.
We start out to do a normal circuit first, though, for comparison purposes: "keep it on the centreline, at 65 Knots pull her clear, nail the speed to 77.5 Knots and she'll climb, turn...........here, just before the railway line, now we're at 1000ft so Attitude, Power, Trim, turn again to keep the airfield in sight, BUMMPFFITCHH, downwind radio call....".
Halfway round the rain comes across like a grey curtain and the world disappears. We'll land and go in.
My Instructor goes eerily silent as I turn on to what I can see of Base leg, drop the power off, put the Cartb Heat on and get the flaps down, nail the speed at 75 Knots and Trim for it, then turn late on to Final as I've let Base leg drift on. He's either very scared or very happy because he hasn't said anything.
I can still see very little through the rain. I can recover the Final from here, but I'm a smidge too low, so I add a bit of power and it looks better. And he's still silent.
Keep the numbers in the same place on the streaky windscreen, continue down.....down......down.... now back on the centreline, the threshold numbers pass just below and we have two red and two whites on the VASI so we must be close. Double-decker bus height so chop the power, flare gently.....back......back...... and the mains kiss the runway. Stick gently forward, compensate with the rudder and we're down and rolling. And no comments.
At Last, a landing I'm happy with. And in the pouring rain, too. Now I've just got to do that every time.
A relaxed roll-out, turn off on to the grass to vacate the runway and taxy home. So easy....
My Instructor is in a hurry to get home, so my brain turns to complete mush. Miss half the post-flight checks, miss the radio call, start doing the wrong checks, aaarrrgggghhhh...... Make mental note not to be rushed; next time will stop the Instructor and do things at my pace instead. And Properly.
Tomorrow is another day.

Lesson 17 Naked landings
It rains as I drive to the airfield but the forecast is for better conditions later, and indeed they arrive as I do. This morning the wind is a bit across the runway so this will make for tricky landings.
We are to do flapless ("naked") landings this morning. These are apparently meant to be "exciting" because flaps allow the aircraft to glide at a steeper angle and more slowly, so without the flaps you're flying faster at the touchdown point, but if the flaps fail in flight you need to know how to land the aircraft, so off we go.
A couple of conventional circuits with flaps first, which go OK-ish (really crappy landing on the first one), so we try one with no flaps. As we cross the wood about half a mile in front of the runway we can really feel the sink from the wet trees but adding a little power has become second nature by now and we make a low-stress landing, albeit a bit bumpy. My Instructor is a little peeved by this, so we go off to do another one, with similar results.
More circuit bashing for the rest of the lesson, and today I'm getting all the radio calls correct, for once.