Continues from Learning to Fly 1

Lesson 25 A bit close
The cloudbase is too low to start overhead joins today and I need to improve my crosswind landings, so off we go. I can always get it on to the runway OK, but the actual landings can be harsh and are inconsistent. So we put in an hour's worth of dual to try and improve them.
Half way through we are behind the other Instructor in the circuit heading for Final. Following another aircraft round is nerve-wracking at best but he has an inexperienced pilot (at last, someone worse than me!) on board so is going slowly, and we overhaul him. As we get closer to the runway we are right on his tail: solo I would abort and go around at this point, and say so (sage nod from the Instructor), but he thinks we might get away with it. We abort at about 20 feet as we're far too close to the other aircraft (and the ground), then as we climb away a Seneca suddenly appears directly above us; again, very close. Seeing other aircraft in flight so close is unnerving.
The landings improve; any practise is always worthwhile. I'm flaring better and more consistently now and the landings are smoother.

Lesson 26 Low stress landings
After lunch, a second go. My Instructor says I can solo after a couple if I want: he is sufficiently happy that I can get them close enough, but actually I value his opinion on each landing, and we slowly improve them. At one point he does one to show me, and apart from being 5 Knots faster it's no better than mine! So I try them 5 Knots faster and they are better, more relaxed.
Landing requires absolute, total and utter concentration for the last 2 miles or so; more than anything else I've ever done. I'm confident now that if it goes badly wrong the reflexes are in place to abort safely and go around; there is no shame in that; everybody does it. So I can relax a bit and concentrate on consistency.
The trouble is that it requires hand-eye co-ordination; something I don't really have a lot of (you should see me try to catch a ball!), hence the huge amounts of practise required. No one is more amazed than I that I can do it at all, let alone repeatedly. But my Instructor and I are happy that it's been a useful session, and my landings have certainly improved.
As for the rest of the circuits; he just goes to sleep now, so I know I'm doing them right. Circuits can be Fun!

Lesson 27 I scare myself
It's a beautiful September day and I'm starting early. My Instructor and I go off in to the circuit for the normal few circuits, just to ensure I've got my eye in.
After two uneventful circuits, one OK and one really slick landing he pronounces himself satisfied, hops out and says "bring the aircraft back by 10.30 please".
Now the fun really begins. Statistically I am now at my most dangerous.
Two circuits in I'm doing OK and humming Thomas Dolby tracks. I discover that carefully trimmed the aircraft will reach circuit height on the climb out, I've worked out how to make the ventilation work properly so I'm not cooking, my landings are getting more consistent, life is good.....
After take off it all starts going wrong. The engine sounds funny, it won't climb very well. I'm in the air and the speed is OK but we're very low. The picture is wrong, mental images of forced landings and bent undercarriages flash past. The obvious thing to check is that the Carb Heat is still on "hot" from the approach but no; and the flaps are up as well.
But the engine feels like it's only on half throttle. Ah, well that's probably because it is only on half throttle, you idiot....
With a roar the engine returns to normal climb setting, the aircraft climbs away and I reach circuit height as normal, but I've managed to scare myself stupid.
I'm still feeling weak at the knees three circuits later, but I will NEVER do that again!
I spend the next hour calming myself down and trying to unblock a recalcitrant ear.
Human Factors seems a relevant study subject at the moment.

Lesson 28 Bullet the Blue Sky
I manage to ace the landing on the first circuit (it's OK, all my other landings are crap) so my Instructor hops out and I've got the aircraft until 1.15. No half-throttle climb-outs this time, in fact it's all getting a bit relaxed flying-wise, which is just as well because the circuit is getting extremely busy. We have jets, fast Senecas on Instrument approaches, me and one other PA28 doing circuits plus a really slow EuroStar microlight doing circuits too. It's OK but the Tower is getting a bit testy with a few people (not me!). I keep my head down....
Confusingly, another "Alpha Tango" turns up on the radio. I'm really glad this didn't happen on my 1st solo as I have to use the full callsign for every call. I manage it OK but it's one more thing to think about.
Then I'm #1 to land but when I turn on to Final some idiot in a Seneca is still backtracking (going the wrong way) down it preparatory to taking off. There is no way he's going to clear in time so at 500ft I Go Around (my first solo Abort!). The tower grants me an "Early Turn" which for a moment eludes me but fortunately I did one of these with my Instructor a few days ago so I know where to go and do a very neat orbit back to the Downwind leg which I reach at exactly the right height - blimey! Couldn't do that again if I tried.
It's absolutely beautiful out here in the blue sky pottering about humming U2 tracks to myself. I could do it all day, but have to be back at 1.15. Time for a late lunch.

Lesson 29 Purple Haze
To move on to the next lessons (overhead joins, steep turns, forced landings) it transpires that I need 2 hours or more of "Solo consolidation" (what I've been doing). As I have been so exact in getting the aircraft back on time I now exactly 1.9 hours, so a third flight is discussed.
My poor Instructor is very harassed with Trial lessons so we all agree that it's easiest for me to just take an aircraft out and fly 0.1 hours solo. Yippee!
Well, you can't just fly 0.1 hours, that's only half a circuit, so I get to do some late afternoon circuits in the haze. Definitely time to hum some Jimi Hendrix.
Half way down the second approach at the most critical point my kneepad explodes and tries to visit the rudder pedals so I'm trying to fly the plane, work the radio and rescue it before it jams something. Bloody Velcro.
On the 3rd circuit I decide it's time to pack it in. It's busy and I'm #4 to land. In the haze I can see #1 (landing), #2 (my Instructor's aircraft wobbling about), but where's #3 (the Tobago)?
I can't really turn on to Base leg until I can see the aircraft I am meant to be following. So I bimble off downwind into the wild blue yonder, stay high and make a long, wide, sweeping turn on to Final, still looking for this bloody Tobago. I make clearing turns, I squint but I can't see him.
Eventually the Tower asks me where I am (the sarcastic answer would be "somewhere in Northamptonshire") but I tell them I am on Long Final and putter in gently. After landing, I'm just getting out of the aircraft when the bloody Tobago finally comes in. Where the hell he'd been I dread to think.
It's not until later that I remember a 10 Knot crosswind was blowing all day and I hadn't really noticed all my approaches were flown Jeremy Clarkson-style. Must just be getting used to it.

Lesson 30 Hooligan stuff
Solo consolidation accomplished, I finally escape the circuit and we head off in to the countryside for Steep Turns. It's cooler today and there are fewer bumps. It's windy on the ground but that doesn't necessarily translate into problems in the air, like rough water doesn't mean rough diving.
Up until now we have been relatively gentle with the aircraft, carefully turning and keeping the wings level; but today we take the trainer wheels off and throw the aircraft around.
The PA28 will turn very steeply indeed if you turn in then really pull back on the stick and add power. We practise going round and round and round in very tight turns indeed at full power directly over a certain North Oxfordshire stately home with which I have a certain business connection and who's owner I know will not mind! I bet it looked good from the ground.
Then we try spiral turn recovery, where the Instructor deliberately over-pulls the aircraft into a spiral dive (picture a shot-down Spitfire spiralling in to the ground) and you have to recover. Actually, recovery is easy: power-off, wings level, pull out and add power. Wheeeeeeee!!!!.
Interestingly, provided you always pull positive G you don't get disorientated or dizzy when doing turns like these. And of course it's great fun! Better than bloody circuits.
Home for lunch and we practise rejoining the circuit from altitude, which will take a little getting used to.

Lesson 31 buzzing the M40
If the engine quits whilst you are in the air you need to know how to select a field and land in it whilst doing the minimum amount of damage to yourself, the aircraft and the farmers crops, in that order.
So we find ourselves North of Bicester over open countryside, select a field, close the throttle and I spiral in, always keeping the field just behind the wingtip until we are at treetop height, before powering away back up to our normal cruising height. Flying close to the ground gives a much better impression of how fast you are really going: 75Knots is 86mph, so things happen fast. Very glad I've got the BMW to practise on...
This takes practise and the first couple of times I mess it up, but the third time we pick a nice big grass field right by the M40 and I successfully spiral in to treetop height from where I could easily have landed it. We were so low going over the M40 I could see the drivers looking up at us. Tee hee!
The time passes too quickly and before I know it we are headed home again. The wind has been across the runway and quite strong today so I will need to concentrate on the landing. But by the time we get back the wind has shifted directly down the runway, it's all very relaxed and I get "nice, a very smooth landing" from my Instructor. That felt better than the actual landing.

Lesson 32 Further afield
Today we start Navigation, so duly equipped with map, protractor, flight computer, marker pens and stopwatch we plan a triangular journey around Oxfordshire and Warwickshire. Ah, the heady aroma of Methylated Spirits!
Start with the known distance and calculated bearing between each waypoint and the known wind direction and strength interpolated from the current Met chart. Add in the aircraft's cruising speed of 95 Knots and the correct track and leg duration will drop out. Actually quite simple.
So after an hour we go out, I take off and climb out, get us to Charlbury (our planned start point), my Instructor flies the planned bearings and durations on my instructions, and bugger me if it doesn't work.
We fly exactly to each waypoint and apart from one waypoint coming up 1 minute early we are perfect. My Instructor says it's not meant to work like that, and we were meant to have errors that we would then correct for!
Flying at 3000ft above the countryside on a beautiful sunny September afternoon we can see for miles and miles; England is very tranquil from up here; each field is a different colour, watercourses sparkle, gliders appear below us circling in the thermals.
Hills you would notice in a car and definitely (!) on a bicycle are flattened; you notice how many people have swimming pools and what lovely houses there are out in the countryside where you never see them from the roads.
It also strikes home how rural England is: roads and habitation take up a tiny percentage of the total space: it's nearly all fields and woodland, but also how big the housing estates on the edges of towns are relative to the original size of the settlement. I can hear JJMcP's Geography lessons coming back now....
Home for an overhead join (I understand these a bit better now, but am still crap with the radio) then a sharp descent to circuit height, a slightly odd-shaped circuit, a lousy approach (too fast all the way down and too high) followed by a long but smooth landing.
I've got a lot to study over the weekend, and it will be fun....

Lesson 33 Smooth as silk
It's cool this morning but becomes very warm; one of those early September days I remember from school. We would go out in the afternoon and swelter in woollen Rugby tops and socks. Early September can be really hot.
Early in, to the surprise of all, as my flying slot was later today. But it's time for the Human Factors exam, for which the study was extremely interesting; it covers the human body, how it reacts to stress, survival in the event of a forced landing, and flight safety. 95% garners a "Pass" and it's on to the next exam: Comms, which should be interesting.
Next I spend an hour trying to duplicate the calculations required to plan a triangular Navigation course assigned by my Instructor. Not only must I get it right, but I must understand the process sufficiently to be able to duplicate it in future.
You start by drawing the track on the chart in felt-pen and measuring the compass-bearing off it to get an approximate heading for each leg. Then you find the forecast wind at the height you'll be flying at (this is available on a downloadable Met. Office sheet) and factor that in using the flight computer, which is a fancy name for a clever little manual plastic gadget like a rotary slide rule (remember them?), compensate for magnetic deviation and you have a real course to steer.
The gadget gives you true ground speed as well, so knowing the distance of each leg you can easily calculate how long it should take.
All this information gets put on a flight planning form that gets clipped to your kneeboard during flight for quick reference.
Once completed, we go and fly it: a smooth climbout to our starting point (which I manage to misidentify), then we begin.
I level out at 3,000ft, reset the Direction Indicator to match the compass, zero the trims, centre the Turn and Slip ball, turn on to the correct heading and as we pass over the start waypoint start the stopwatch and fly as accurately as I can. Our first leg is short and the air is as smooth as silk.
Over our next waypoint I perform a 270° turn (really an excuse to stand the aircraft on it's wingtip) to line up on to our next heading, start the stopwatch again and off we go for the first long leg.
This is the first time I've really flown in level flight outside the circuit for an extended period and with the aircraft properly trimmed it's relaxing. Every now and then I nudge the trims and correct the heading. The countryside flows by, warm in the September sun, and our next waypoint swims in to view 30 seconds early, which means the wind is a little stronger than I had calculated. We pick up a few thermal bumps but on the whole it's very smooth today.
Another 270° turn over the waypoint to ensure my Instructor is happy that we really are where I think we are (well that's my excuse), and we head for home on our final leg.
As the stopwatch reaches the halfway point we're 5° off track so I compensate 10° and by the time we are three-quarters of the way through we have the airfield in sight (at least I think it is, from up here it could be any airfield). We check-in with them for a "join", which is what a return to the circuit is called. This is a bit complex and involves a lot of radio and some 3-D mental gymnastics: you have to imagine a spiral above the circuit in just the right place, then fly it to join in to the circuit without hitting anyone.
I manage OK with the join but my circuit is too small, so my approach is rushed and the eventual landing is untidy and bumpy, and I know it. I'm very embarrassed: I know I can do better.

Weather Interlude (again)
The English weather takes over and for three days we're grounded. It makes me more and more certain that once I am qualified I need an Instrument rating of some sort. Otherwise this is a very fair-weather business.
The only bright spot on the horizon is that 80% on the Radio theory exam takes me one more step towards the end of Ground School.
On the fourth day the weather finally relents and the sun comes out. I am eager like a dog waiting for a walk but find, having hung around for 2 hours, that the flying school have failed to book me in to fly today! I checked these bookings a week ago and they were in there then, so someone has changed them since. Very strange......
So now I am condemned not to fly for another 3 days. Back to Ground school, this time Navigation theory.

Lesson 34 Read the f!"£$%^&*( flight plan
The weather, the booking system and work commitments relent at last. We're off navigating again, under a blue sky full of fluffy clouds. It's so beautiful, this is what flying is all about.
I navigate the first leg perfectly.... to Banbury.
We're early. Huh?
My Instructor asks why we aren't at Chipping Warden, which of course is the correct destination as marked and carefully calculated by me on my flight planner, had I bothered to look. Eeek!
Then I can't find the disused airfield at Chipping Warden, which only happens to be a mile wide and covered in cars. I can't see it because it's right under the aircraft. My Instructor tips the aircraft over, pulling what feels like 4G, to show me. Eeek squared!
This navigation is more difficult than it looks, especially when your Instructor makes you divert en route, which means doing the flight planning by mental arithmetic whilst flying the aircraft. Pressure or what?
Eventually we get back on track and manage to fly successfully to Moreton-in-the-Marsh and back to Kidlington. I get my first taste of flying through wisps of cloud: the first one is surprisingly turbulent, so the next one I find a hole in and fly through that instead, much to my Instructor's amusement.
A much-improved Standard Overhead Join gets us back in to the circuit and a slightly harsh gusty landing. Lunch time.

Lesson 35 Previously, on "Lost".....
I have a new Instructor this afternoon, who is absolutely brilliant and has a good sense of humour (he'll need it...).
I fail to start the aircraft by missing out setting the Mixture control to "Rich" on the startup checklist. Doh!
The first navigation leg starts, as usual, over Cornbury Park (my favoured turning point). This time I fail to start the stopwatch until 3 minutes after we leave, which means that when get to Shipston-on-Stour it's not there. Or rather there are 50 villages around the aircraft, all of which could be Shipston-on-bloody-Stour. They all look the same from up here. So I guess at the largest one.
"No, that's Stratford-upon-Avon"
Oh shit. I'm lost.
We go through the standard "finding yourself" procedure, backtrack a few miles and Shipston-on-Stour appears, much to my relief. A scary few minutes, though, and good experience. Glad I wasn't alone.
The next leg is to North Leach roundabout. I know this area pretty well so I cheat a bit and we find it easily.
I'm beginning to get a feel for how this works. Everything looks very flat; hills don't really stand out at all from 3,000ft. The landscape looks very little like the map and you can see a hell of a long way.
My Instructor shows me a few neat tricks: we ask Oxford for a compass bearing to steer based on a bearing from our radio signal. This is known as a QDM (or "Quick Dial Mummy", as he puts it).
We also try the Nuclear Option: changing the radio to 121.5 (the Emergency frequency), and asking for a position fix.
Both of these work perfectly; I feel a great deal less concerned about running out of fuel whilst trying to work out where I am, but I have to say that a portable GPS device will be an early purchase! It's great to know how to do it "properly", and obviously I need to know it for the PPL, but in real life I'll have a GPS as a backup (or even a Primary!)
My Instructor can make no sense whatsoever of my overhead join procedure when I try to explain it to him, but we fly it and he agrees it works just fine. It's very crosswindy, and for some unknown reason I fly the worst approach I've ever done but rescue it in the last 150 yards and touch down barely perceptibly, which garners a complement. I used more aileron than ever before to counteract the crosswind and it really does seem to work: effectively you're flying in to the wind along the ground sideways one way as fast as the wind is blowing you sideways across the ground in the opposite direction.
I'm beginning to realise that the secret of a smooth landing is to land really slowly: much slower than you're taught, but still well above the actual stall speed of the aircraft. Will work on that.
Home for more Navigation study: I feel my brain's full at the moment. There's an awful lot of it to learn.

Lesson 36 Air speed record
The tail end of a tropical storm has descended upon the British Isles and the winds are "lively", which is not conducive to smooth, educational flying. After a frustrating day of unsuccessfully waiting for the wind to drop I arrive at PFT early on a beautifully warm, sunny but windy morning.
My head is full of Navigation exam cramming (DoT over DiGx60=track error, altitude-to-FL high-to-low down-you-go, etc) and first I tackle the Navigational theory paper, which turns out to be OK, but requiring extremely accurate map plotting to get the right answers. Anyway, I get 2 questions wrong out of 25, but 92% garners a "Pass". Only two more exams to go.
We decide this is not the best day to do Solo navigation as the crosswind component on the landing will be very close to the operating limits of the aircraft.....
So we decide to do a "Zone transit". This is where I navigate us through the Brize Norton Military Control Zone, and we get to talk to the military Air Traffic Controllers on the way. I just hope we don't get shot down or hit by a TriStar.
The take-off is "interesting". The wind tries extremely hard to flip the aircraft over from 30 Knots onwards and I have to steer in to it just to get the aircraft to take-off speed. Having done that, take-off is smooth and despite some gusts and turbulence we climb out over Oxford, which glistens in the sunlight. Lazy navigation means "follow the A34" to our denoted starting point and whilst climbing there we emerge into smooth, glassy air.
A quick orbit around my chosen roundabout as an excuse to chuck the aircraft about a bit, then I line up properly on my waypoint start line and this time I get the stopwatch to start at the right place. Half way through the leg we change radios and talk to Brize Norton who, when they are not talking to us, are directing a landing at Boscombe Down which is a hell of a long way from here, showing just how far VHF radio works when you are 3,000ft up. They accept our plans, sounding surprisingly un-military (I expected "right, you 'orrible little man, you want to fly your scruffy little aeroplane across our pristine military turf do you? Well get your 'air cut, for a start, and call me sir!") and we proceed. They advise us of various helicopters flying near us, and advise the helicopters of our presence. A Merlin (think "big helicopter") gets quite close at one point.
I manage to keep the aircraft on track and on height all the way, and my dead reckoning navigation, as taught, brings us straight to the mast at Membury Services. Spot-on. That's how it should work.
A nice steep orbit around the mast (just to check it's there, honest.......) and we roll out on to our new heading. We now have a 35 Knot tailwind and our groundspeed becomes 130 Knots, or 150mph. Cool!
It feels pretty relaxed (and there are no speed cameras up here!) but the villages below zoom by and before we know it we're ready to enter the armed enclosure. I kind of expect barbed wire in the sky or something, but actually apart from asking us to fly at a particular height (around which I wobble) it's all a bit of an anti-climax, apart from the fab view of the apron at Brize Norton covered in TriStars and foreign-owned Airbus private jets as we fly over.
This time I find Shipston-on-bloody-Stour without error and circle it steeply a couple of times just to make absolutely sure it's really there before setting off for home, now directly in to the wind.
It's all a bit slow flying this way but Enstone comes up eventually and from there I can see Cornbury Park and the airfield. So it's goodbye helpful Brize and back to Oxford Approach who allow us back in.
Once in the circuit we turn to Final and start our approach. It's obvious from the start this is going to be scary but I'll fly it anyway. I do OK until we flare then the crosswind picks up a wing and we drift across the runway. My Instructor grabs it and we plop down neatly on the centreline. Glad I wasn't Solo.
Mental note: learn to sideslip properly.

Lesson 37 Land away
It's a beautiful day (thanks, U2, now I have something to hum all day...).
First job: Principles of Flight exam. I'm a Mechanical Engineer so the entire book has been common sense and I haven't had to do much revising. Easist exam yet. One more and I'm finished with Ground school.
I'm now apparently cleared to navigate solo, but the cloudbase is insufficiently high for me to navigate at my planned 3000 feet, so we do something different instead: a dual land away. This involves flying to a different airfield and is what touring flying is all about.
We are to go to Wellesbourne Mountford near Straftord-on-Avon (past Shipston-on-bloody-Stour, so we'll ensure we identify it on the way up......).
We plan the route and I fly it. I make a point of identifying Shipston-on-bloody-Stour, and we arrive at Wellesbourne on time and on bearing, so my nav must be improving.
This is my first time in an alien circuit: my Instructor lets me do a standard overhead join, which I make a bit of a mess of and have to do a quick orbit to lose height (noses on the windscreen as we spiral down....). Mental note: leave more room next time.
Then into the circuit behind another guy, round on to Final and a smooth approach to the runway. Do it just like at Kidlington, flare, and land on the numbers as smooth as silk. Gosh, that was easy. I expected to muck it up in one way or another....
We pay our landing fee and have a coffee. I'm learning to chat like a pilot (this means I am becoming a bore, so I limit myself to boring only other pilots....) and before we know it, it's time to go home.
Leaving is just like arriving: very easy, and I've already plotted the return leg (Instructor impressed) so we cruise home. Charlbury arrives over the starboard bow on time, we kink around Enstone airfield and perform a "straight in" circuit join, which basically means you just fly straight in to the Final. Concentrate on a smooth landing and we taxi in. My Instructor has stopped commenting on my landings so I must be doing them right. Next stops: Solo Nav then Solo land away.

Despite today's jaunt, cumulative weather problems have now delayed me to the point where getting my PPL before I return to work is in serious doubt, so I negotiate with a South African flying school concerning spending 2 weeks over there where it is Spring and the sun is bright, and finishing my PPL (plus having a bit of fun.....). Unfortunately the administrative issues put the kybosh on that one..... I'm stuck with the UK weather.

Extended weather interlude
Not content with earlier protrusions in to my flying shedule we now get day after day of low cloud, showers, wind and rain. Time after time I arrive, plan a journey and the weather prevents us from flying it.
I finish my Ground school: Flight Planning turns out to be easier than advertised and I only have to fly now.
Different Instructors' attitudes to flight planning emerge, and I evolve my own style of planning, taking what I hope are the best bits of each style.

Lesson 38 Scud running
The weather breaks: it's the most beautiful but cold morning; the first day of Autumn. The heating is on in the office, there isn't a cloud in the sky and I'm early. I have my flight planned, map drawn out, wind drift calculated and leg times estimated.
As I'm still a Student (how much longer must I hear this?) they want an Instructor to do a couple of circuits with me to ensure I haven't forgotten how to land (which is fair enough; any practise is good by me); but the Instructor has to wait for his student to complete his flight plan (which he has barely started and takes him 20 minutes), then go out with him before he can come back and snooze around a couple of circuits with me. He could have circuited me first then hopped out of my aircraft in to the students' pre-flighted aircraft; I've seen this done before. So instead I get to be bored for 90 minutes, by which time clouds are peeping over the horizon. Uh Oh.
I complete two circuits satisfactorily, despite a crosswind landing I wasn't very proud of, and before anyone can say "but the cloudbase has come down...." I'm off.
Actually, by the time I get aloft, the weather is pretty marginal, and I resort to scud running, whereby you fly as high as you can (but not at the height you had planned) just under the cloudbase. Students are not allowed to do this, of course, (yawn yawn...), but I'm out of the circuit solo for the first time at last, so I'm not bloody going home.
I find my stately-home-near-Charlbury start point, do a couple of yeehah orbits, roll out on to my planned heading and start the stopwatch. I keep flying through bits of cloud and rain (definitely not within my licence limits, this, but then as I haven't got a licence, it doesn't matter!). Actually, it's less dangerous than it sounds, and I can see enough to ensure I don't get lost and don't hit anyone. I can't fly any higher than 2,700ft, which coincidentally is the safe altitude for this area.
Moreton-in-the-Marsh comes up on schedule and I orbit the fire training school a couple of times whilst I wrestle with my stopwatch before heading out in to the murk again. It really is awful up here, and very rough. Shipston-on-bloody Stour appears then disappears.
A large white conurbation appears ahead of me after a few minutes, which momentarily confuses me until I realise that it is fact exactly where I am headed: Banbury. The clouds get lower and I'm forced down to 2,300ft, which coincidentally is the safe altitude for this area, so that's OK.
Over Banbury on time, I turn over the motorway junction that's much easier to pinpoint exactly than the centre of Banbury and head for home.
The cloudbase relents towards Kidlington; I pick up the airfield and climb back to where I should have been all along, then perform my first solo overhead join flawlessly (yes!) and spiral down in to the circuit. Call Downwind, do downwind checks then turn to Base Leg then Final, call Final, get cleared to land, and trundle down the approach. The landing is a little exciting: the crosswind is sufficiently gusty that I run out of rudder authority i.e I've got full rudder on and it's not enough to stop me sliding across the runway. I have crabbed aileron on in to the wind but evidently not enough. The stall warner flashes and we're down but we're way off the centreline. This is a bit hairy. I get it back on to the centreline, roll out and taxi home.
We all agree the wind has got up a bit too much for another jaunt today, but had I not been forced to wait 90 minutes I would have got another flight in before the clouds appeared.....
But still, that's a major hurdle passed. I now know I can successfully fly out somewhere and get back under my own steam with no scary moments.

Lesson 39 Impromptu Short field technique course
A new day, a new challenge. Today I get to land away, at Wellesbourne, all by myself.
The weather is fabulous but forecast to be showers by mid-afternoon. A quick circuit with my Instructor shows I'm still capable of landing without breaking the aircraft, so he hops out and off I go in to the wild blue yonder, solo once more. I head for Charlbury and this time roll out North for Wellesbourne, and start the stopwatch. Halfway there I radio them and ask for joining instructions, at which point they spring the surprise du jour on me, that the runway has changed and I will be landing on a different, much shorter, runway. I haven't done short-field landing techniques in practise, so this could be entertaining. If I get this even slightly wrong, I'll overrun and put the aircraft through a hedge....
I join overhead without too much excitement but I'm still too high when emerging back over the live side of the airfield and have to quickly dump 100ft before turning in to the circuit, and I cut someone up. Sorry!
My first approach to this extremely short little sorry excuse for a runway is an exploratory exercise and I decide to go around at 500ft.
By the second approach I have the angles all sorted out: there's a displaced threshold with a market on it right in front of the runway landing area and I really don't want to land in it. Landing at this field is "at your discretion" but it's very busy and the previous landing aircraft has not quite cleared the runway by the time decision height arrives, so I abandon at 200ft.
On the third approach I land slow, softly and on the numbers at the end of the runway, apply loads of brake and stop with half the runway left. So what was the big panic?
I taxi in and stop, climb out to pay my landing fee, and notice my hands are shaking and my legs are rubbery. That is the single most nerve-wracking thing I've ever done, without exception.
I sit and quiver in the café for a while before starting up and heading out on to the runway to go home. I backtrack all the way to the end and stand on the brakes to get the best take-off. The end of the runway seems to be coming up very, very fast; no room for error or half-throttle here. I rotate as we hit 65 Knots, the aircraft leaps off the runway with 150 yards to spare, and I stay low to build up speed before climbing away. Phew!
The return to Kidlington is uneventful, I know how to get there now. A slick overhead join and a nice landing (on the luxurious mile-long runway!), and it's lunchtime. My Instructor is impressed I coped with the short runway by doing a couple of exploratory expeditions first, so I suppose I must be doing things right, but it takes me an hour to stop shaking.
Learning to fly is definitely not for the nervous.