CHAPTER 17   MICROLIGHTING   BREAKING RECORDS October 1980 to February 1985                     In order to Hang Glide successfully, you need very large hills or high cliffs and lots of wind, coming from the correct direction to keep you airborne. However, in Suffolk we have neither as the countryside is quite flat and is often referred to as the low lands. So in order to participate in the sport, it meant travelling many miles across the country, looking for suitable sites. Even then, you were not guaranteed a flight from your chosen destination, if the winds were not in your favour. Therefore when news quickly spread around the country that a flyer had successfully attached a motor onto his hang glider, it was greeted great optimism. For me it was a prayer being answered and a logical way to advance the sport. An invention like this could save me valuable flying time, instead of just wasting my time wandering aimlessly around the country side looking for the correct conditions. I would now be able to take off from any flat football field that I could find and to then gain whatever altitude I desired. I would then be able to switch the motor off and to glide around at my own leisure. However, if I lost my height instead of going down I would be able to restart the motor to regain my altitude. The first British person in the United Kingdom to build a powered hang glider that became known as a Trike, was a guy named Frank Tarjanyi from Wales. Apparently he had seen a photo in a French magazine and had scaled the picture up so that he could copy it. The whole project was later taken over by a company building Hang Gliders at that time and known as "Hiway". However, for poor old Frank, things did not work out to well and he had a nasty accident in his garage, while testing the engine and propeller. He had forgotten to insert some safety clips into the Trike and while the engine was running, the force of the propeller folded up the machine. In doing so, the propeller chopped into the side of his head. Unfortunately, for Frank, it was also a couple of hours before anybody found him, although he was still alive, but only just. I do not know what ever happened to Frank or if he survived the accident. Therefore, I think that the credit should go to Frank for the first Trike construction. I have in my collection of photos, a picture of a guy who fixed an engine on his back in an effort to get off the ground in a hang glider, that was taken at a Mere Hang Gliding Championship competition. This was not very successful and it never caught on. I would guess this to be around the same time Frank’s Trike was under construction However, I also think that a lot of credit should also go to David Cook who had already been experimenting with the idea a couple of years earlier than Frank’s project. David had fixed a very small McCullock, MC-101, 12hp chainsaw engine onto the top of his fixed wing VJ23 hang glider to which was fitted a very small hand carved propeller. Therefore, with all the knowledge that he had gained during those couple of years, it was to David that I turned for help in trying to build my first motorised hang glider Trike. I also spent some time with two lads from the Norfolk Club. Ray Watering and Mick Starling, who had already started to build their own Trikes. Whatever information they could not pass onto me, I managed to get the right answers from David.             Therefore, with the knowledge that I had gained from Ray, Mick and David I started to construct my very first Trike, based on a set of plans that Ray and Mick had supplied me. To this day, I do not know where they got them from, although I tend to think that they designed it them selves, as they were both engineers. David’s workshop under his house was where I managed to get most of the work done, as I had nowhere at home in which to under take such a venture. I powered the Trike with a Velmet 160cc engine, using one single vee belt to drive the propeller, however I cannot remember where it or the propeller came from. I decided to attach the Trike to the Cherokee hang glider that I owned at the time, not wanting to spend more money on a new one. That Cherokee was one of the most stable gliders that I ever owned, it was a real Coastal Floater and perfect for that first little Trike. The whole project seemed to take ages before it was at a stage where it could be test flown or maybe it was just my inpatients to get it into the air.             However before its completion I sold it to Pete Bowden a new member of the Suffolk Coastal Floaters Hang Glider Club. Peter was to become a very good friend over those early 1980's years. He even let me test fly the Trike from the football pitch behind his house. It was not really a flight, just a short hop in to the air for about three seconds, but at least I got it off the ground. Peter was very impressed with what I had demonstrated to him that day and showed a lot of interest in the whole project.             Peter Bowen also taught me many things about life and I admired him and his family deeply. I know for a fact that at one time I was a bit of a redneck and spoke my mind quite openly. Peter changed all that and I thank him very much for it. I do not need to go into any sort of detail because I do not want to be reminded of things about myself that I was not pleased with. I know I have been a controversial person at times, as are many other people in their own way. To stifle people up is to stop advancement in life. However, I now go about my criticism in a different way, while trying not to offend people who have found themselves in situations through no fault of their own.             One of Peter’s children had earlier suffered from Leukaemia and at the time I was introduced to the family, the decease was in remission. Peter, his family and several friends like the Wollertons, used to try to raise money anyway they could, to help fight the disease. It did not mater how stupid or silly the idea was if it raised money then they would try it. Like the time they had a plank of wood over a full tank of icy cold water and people tried to knock them into the water while throwing wet sponges at them. The end result was that every single penny raised and I mean every single penny. No not one cent was taken away as expenses. Was taken to the doctors at Addenbrookes hospital in Cambridge and handed over in person. What an effort, this also helped me change my way of life when I saw what they were doing. The Bowden’s were just an ordinary family, who were doing extraordinary things for the community. Keep the good work up Peter, I am always behind you and all of your family. I sold that first Trike to Peter because a new much more powerful machine appeared on the market.  The Buggy as it became known was powered by a 340cc Sachs two stroke engine and built by Nick Wriggerley in Wales. It came already attached to a Solar Wing (was Birdman) Storm hang glider and I managed to get Barry Brackenberry to sponsor me. In doing so, I had his logo sewn on the sail that from the ground read “Aqua Covers”. Barry lived in Framlingham and had a family business making tarpaulin covers of all descriptions, but was branching out with a new line in swimming pool covers. This machine was a far cry from the very small 160cc machine that I had been building. Because of my 14 stone weight, this machine would give me a far better chance of getting into the air to enjoy a flight over the Suffolk country side.             My first attempt at a flight with my new Buggy was at Ipswich Airport where they had been very sympathetic towards what I was trying to achieve. A large crowd had gathered mainly from the Floaters Hang Gliding Club that also included Peter, David Taylor and Brian Griffiths, from my earlier hang gliding days.             My plan was not to go for it on the very first attempt, but to gradually build up my confidence and height. The plan was to try and gain about two hundred feet and to then return to mother earth, all in the length of the grass runway. With my feet on the ground either side of the Trike as brakes, I revved the engine up to full throttle. At that time, I could feel the power as it was trying to push me forward and my feet were starting to slide along the grass. As I lifted my feet back into the Trike, I moved forward reaching flying speed within about fifty meters and it lifted up off the ground on its own. I pushed the bar gently away from me and it went into a steep climb. Once I reached about two hundred feet, I eased off the throttle, the nose came down and I dropped back down towards the runway. As the grass rushed up I slowly pushed the bar forward again and I completed a very smooth landing, I was down on the ground and boy did I feel great. This type of flying was going to be for me, no more driving all the way across the country to Wales, now I could fly from the Knodishall playing field. Everybody was very impressed with what they had just witnessed and gathered round to congratulate me. After a time I decided to have another go, only this time I was going to attempt a circuit of the airfield. Sadly as I was taxing across the very bumpy grass airfield, my silencer broke away from a welded joint and that was the end of my flying for the day. However, I had proved to the club members who witnessed that first flight that this was going to be the way to go. It took me a week to get the Trike repaired and on the following weekend, once again returned to Ipswich Airport. Only this time there was no crowd, so I did not need to perform in front of them, as you tend to do. This time I could work my way up, at my own pace. It was a little bit of an anticlimax as everything progressed along smoothly. There was I expecting all sorts of problems and there were none. On my very first attempt I climbed to 500 feet, I should add that I guessed it at 500 feet because in those days I did not have an altimeter. I completed my first circuit of the field and it was everything I had dreamed of. It also started to change my whole way of thinking. I could see no point in switching off the engine, once I was up in the air, why not leave it running and then I would be able to fly anywhere I chose. In this way, I would not be reliant on wind directions and the finding thermals to keep me up. However, I must add that the strength of the wind was still a controlling factor. If it were too strong, it would still keep us on the ground. At that time up to 20mph was okay and of course, you had to watch out for very gusty conditions. It was pointless trying to fly a machine that can only fly at 25mph, into a wind speed of 30mph other wise I would have been going backwards at 5mph. Whenever David Cook flew his powered VJ24 I would now be able to accompany him on his flights. In those early days, we had some memorable flights together and also logged up many hours flying time.             Like the time we both decided to fly home from Ipswich Airport to the Thorpeness cricket field. We complied with the air safety rules of the time and informed RAF Bentwaters that we wished to fly over their airspace, at an approximate time. Unfortunately for them, we neglected to tell them that we were Microlights and that we would be flying at a very slow speed. Neither David nor I had radios at the time and so we were only in contact with each other by hand signals, when we were close enough. There was no way that we were in contact with anybody on the ground.             As we approached Bentwaters, I could see that there was a Phantom jet lined up on the runway waiting to take off. He had obviously been instructed by the control tower to hold his position until we had cleared his airspace. I did not fly over the centre of the base, tending to keep to the north eastern side of the camp, but not David he flew almost over the top of the take off area, even following the runway the full length of the camp. I can still remember him waving me over to take the same flight line that he was flying. If you take into account the slow 20mph that we were flying, you will understand that it seemed to take an eternity before we cleared the base. We have often wondered if that Phantom jet had any fuel left in his tanks, by the time he was given the all clear to take off. At that time we both had our aircraft numbers painted on our wings and to this day, I cannot believe that we were not contacted about that incident. However, it all seemed to work out well and we both landed safely at Thorpeness about an hour later. The whole incident has always given us something to laugh about over the years. I will never forget the sight of David flying down the length of that runway and I have always wondered what the Pilot of the Phantom jet was thinking.             At this stage, I would like to explain, in a little more detail, David’s flight across the channel that placed him into the history books forever, as it was a fantastic achievement. Although at the time, I think David just brushed it off as just another achievement to add to his wonderful collection. Unfortunately, I was not part of that historic attempt. David had assembled a very small party of friends in the Dover area, to await favourable conditions for the attempt. They were also aware that there were a couple of other people, namely Len Gabriel and Gerry Breen in Dover, also preparing for the same attempt. The conditions at the time were not perfect, but in an effort to be first, they tried to jump the gun and set themselves up very early the next morning on a beach just out side of Dover. They were gambling that the conditions would be right as the day unfolded. To David there was no turning back, today was going to be the day. His little band of helpers launched him into the air and then took to a small boat, in an effort to follow him. One of those in the boat was Chris, who was a seasoned sea dog, having undertaken several long sea journeys in the northern hemisphere. Close to the beach, the sea looked quite calm and they had no problem in keeping up with David. However once they were further out to sea and away from the shelter of the white cliffs of Dover. The sea became a little rough and the boat struggled to keep up with David. One of David’s contingency plans in case of a mishap was that he would try to dump his glider on to the boat if he got into trouble. The thought of landing into the sea did not appeal to him. Especially if he was along way from the chase boat, because all he had in the way of safety gear was a life jacket. In those days, there were no such things as satellite navigation and even if there was, anything that he took with him would have added weight to the plane. There was also the problem that once in the water he might become entangled in the debris of the plane and as it sank, it might pull him under. At one time David had toyed with the idea of placing air bags in side the wings, but this was not followed through, as he believed that it might add some unwanted weight to the project. By the time the boat reached mid channel it was struggling with the large waves that frequented this part of the sea. Several times David turned back to circle what he later described as a tiny little boat being tossed about in a heavy sea. Chris was later to tell me that at times he thought that if the boat were to keep hitting the big waves, that there was a chance that it could break in two. The chase boat also broke down a couple of times and even though Chris is a very good marine mechanic he could not get it going. David then made one of the bravest decisions of his life and decided to head straight for the French coast alone about 4 miles away. Leaving the guys on the boat to make it the best way they could. This turned out to be a crucial decision that gave him the successful result he craved. As David neared the French coastline, he knew that his fuel was running low, but he had no way of knowing what was left in the tank. Then before he knew it, he had sand passing under him, so he wasted no time in dropping his legs and landing as fast as he could. Another good decision, because as he looked into the fuel tank he later described that all he saw was fuel vapour. David landed in France at Bleriot Plage his intended destination just south of Calais. The record breaking flight had lasted one hour fifteen minutes, during which he had reached a height of approximately 250ft above the waves. On landing he only had 3 minutes of fuel remaining, sufficient only to fill an egg cup. It was some time before the chase boat arrived on the beach finding David sitting on the beach talking to the local holidaymakers who were finding it very hard to believe that he had just arrived from England. I also believe that David found himself in trouble with the French authorities for not getting the flight authorised before he left. Although David later told me that had he wasted time trying to get the necessary authorisation Gerry Breen or Len Gabriel’s would have beat him. To me this is one of David’s finest achievements and can be compared along side that of Louis Bleriot. Who on Sunday 25th July 1909, flew from Les Baraques, France to Northfall Meadows near Dover Castle, a distance of 41.8km (26miles), taking 36½ minutes to complete the journey in his Bleriot X1 23hp monoplane. After leaving France at 4.41am in the morning, to become the very first person to fly across the English Channel. As a little foot note it is also worth noting that Louis Bleriot’s engine (25hp) was twice the size of David’s VJ23 (9hp) that had powered it to the record on 9th May 1978. Another coincidence is that when Louis Bleriot set his record on 25th July 1909 it was later to become the very same day that David Cook was born and that both men were 37 years old when they made their respective attempts. It was also Alexandra Duckham who had funded Louis Bleriot’s attempt, so it was only fitting that the Duckhams oil company also partly funded David’s attempt             Chris Tansley spent a couple of months designing and building his own Trike and coupled it to his McBrick hang glider. Now he could join David and I on our weekend fly a ways. The best days flying we ever had, was one particular Sunday. When the three of us flew to Beccles from Thorpeness and landed on the Golf Course to be encircled by a very large crowd. All wanted to touch the planes and question us on where we had come from and where we were all going. After an hour we flew all the way back keeping an eye on Chris as he had the slower machine. Upon touch down and a beer that night, we could not stop talking about it, this truly was the way to fly. David and Chris also went to work for Rodney Blois at Cockfield Hall, his stately home, assembling American Rotec Microlights. David told me that they actually assembled the machines in side one of the very large rooms, which was littered with trophies and items that had been collected from around the world over a long period of time. Apparently at one time David had covered himself with a complete tiger shin and peering through its open jaw he hid behind a curtain waiting to jump out on Chris. Unfortunately he jumped out on to the house keeper and terrified her. Rodney had a small airfield and allowed us all to fly from there. Also joining our little group around that time was a new boy to the area Dave Clarke. David had an uncanny knack of being able to fly almost any machine he could get his hands on. From this field we all flew in a group just about everywhere, calling in on almost all of the old Second World War Air fields that litter East Anglia These were the good old days of flying, when there were no rules and the only people after us, just wanted to look at our new flying machines. One Sunday David, Chris and I flew to Stowupland where my parents met us with a hot drink in a flask. We then flew on to Elmswell to meet up with Harry Potter, an old friend of David's who helped him in his early days of powered flight, while working at Richard Garrett’s factory in Leiston. After a couple of hours, talking of old times and a couple of cups of tea, we decided to fly home. In order to launch safely we had to line up our aircraft facing into the wind. This meant that we would be going across the ploughed farrows in the field. For David this did not pose a problem, as he could take off in his VJ24, at an angle to the wind. David gave it full throttle and within a couple of paces, he was in to air. When it came to my turn, I was glad that the wind had increased as it meant that I would be able to take off in a shorter distance than normal. As I sat in my Trike, I was a little worried at what was going to happen next. Looking at the deep furrows that had been carved into the soil, I had my doubts as to whether I was going to be able to get off in one piece. The furrows looked deeper than the height of my wheels, then just as I decided to go for it and gave my machine full throttle. A big gust of wind caught me and launched me straight in to the air. It was amazing as I had only felt the bump from one of the farrows and suddenly I was watching the ground drop away at an alarming rate. Looking back it seemed that Chris had been just as lucky as me, as I watched him also gain some height. It had to be said at this point that the slowest vehicle governs a convoy’s speed and unfortunately, Chris was that weak link. Where as David and I could travel at a so-called decent speed, poor old Chris was always miles behind us. So David and I had some fun constantly turning back to go and look for him. Gee, that McBrick was lacking in the speed department. Anyway, all three of us arrived back home safely, each with our own different stories of the trip. However, with all of the fun that we were having, I also experienced a few disappointments, like the time David rang and asked me to accompany him to Kessingland one evening. I raced down to the cricket field at Thorpeness and eagerly set up my Trike, as David was waiting to leave. I finally gave him the nod and we both rolled forward in a line to take off. However in my haste I had forgotten to buckle up my safety belt around my waste and it dragged behind my Trike for a couple of yards before jumping up and catching in the propeller behind me. The end result was, it left me with one broken propeller, along with one severely dented ego. Then there was the time when once again I raced down to Thorpeness cricket field to set up. In my haste and while I was talking to some on lookers, I did not undertake my pre-flight check correctly. David later told me that when he was in the Royal Air force it was an offence to talk to a pilot while he was pre-flighting his aircraft. Anyway, I had a couple of hours in the air with David, and we both landed safely. Once the flight was over I taxied over to my trailer and started to dismantle my Trike. To my horror, I found four of the main Pit-pins lying on the trailer. These should have been inserted into the struts that kept the under carriage in place. Somehow, I had been very lucky and all of the struts had stayed in place, even after the heavy jolt during landing. Each weekend we would find somewhere to fly. East Anglia is peppered with Old World War Two airfields, most of them still in tacked or at least part of them were. We would just fly to places like, Parham, Flixston, Hardwick, Eye and Bungay to name but a few. However, as with all good things it came to an end, as more and more people became involved in the sport. Suddenly we were flying in larger groups and in doing so, we created much more noise. In addition, there were a few accidents and deaths. However, our little group was very lucky, we had no deaths although a student did die at Rodney’s airfield, while he was attempting to take off. He had been instructed to spend some time taxing around the field. Having several hundred hours flying experience in a Pits special and taken part in many flying display through out the country. He thought he knew how to fly these very slow machines. I believed that it was his intention to show off in front of us, instead of taxiing he just screamed down the grass runway to take off in front of a small group of us. Unfortunately, he miss judged the capabilities of the machine and his ability to control the microlight, when he executed a very tight turn and went into a tree. We did our best for him as we waited for the ambulance, but sadly, he died later that day while in hospital. Around that time there was a well known show on television, the stars name just happened to be the same as the guy who had just died, and the rumour mill started rolling full steam ahead. We even had newspaper reports arriving at the airfield for all the gory details, but for the life of me I can not remember his name.             It was the noise the engines made that was the real killer for us and slowly the rules and regulations started to be enforced. Forcing many people out of the sport, I just took the view that I would beat them at there own game. Every rule they invented I just complied with it. By this time I had purchased from Solar Wings their latest hang glider model, the Typhoon, I had then coupled it to one of Graham Slaters Ultra Sports Trikes. This had a 330cc Fuji Robin Engine, I think it was the best combination that I ever flew, it was certainly the easiest to control and once again I added Barry's logo of “Aqua Covers” onto the sail. I might add that most engines usually have a silencer fitted to help cut down the noise from the engine. Over a short period of time many people had experimented with different types of silencers, but the minute you try and cut down on noise you usually cut back on the power from the engine. Power we required to get us safely up in to the air. Therefore a happy medium had to be found, unfortunately what ever noise our engines made was still too loud for some of the residents in our area. I’m sure that if we had removed engines completely from our Trikes it would still have been too loud for some people. Then they would have complained that the sail was fluttering to loud. What’s that old saying “You can please some of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”. I would just like to add to that, “You can never please any of the people at any time”. Barry my sponsor paid for Mark and me to go to the Isle of White, to attend one of the first big fly in meetings. He also let us use his van to take the Trike over with us. He had wanted to use the event to do a spot of advertising of his latest swimming pool covers. It was planned that I was to fly over as much of the Island as possible, exposing the “Aqua Covers” Logo to as many people as possible. At that time, Barry had some how come up with figures that named the Isle of White as the area where most out door swimming pools were located. However, it rained almost every single day and so Barry came home early with someone else. While Mark and I slept in the van so there were no problems and at least we were kept dry. Unfortunately, the Bowdens from Felixstowe were not as lucky as their tents were all washed away and they had to all move into a motel. I only managed to fly on one day on that trip, but Mark and I did have a good time, talking to all the other new comers into the sport of Microlighting, about their new ideas and new machines. Because of the wet conditions, somebody hastily arranged a meeting in one of the local holiday camp cinemas. It was thought that we could all use the exercise to discuss Microlighting and of the direction the sport was heading. Unfortunately, I felt that a few old farts that were all holders of a Private pilots licence hijacked the whole event. They felt that because they had sat exams in the past, that now we should all go down the same path. I remember one old guy who must have been seventy five if he was a day and was wearing full naval officer’s uniform. David Cook later told me that he thought it was Commander Willis. I believe he was flying an old Scout or a Weed hopper at that time. He always reminded me of one of the characters in my favourite funny film of all times, “Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines”. I also felt that what he was flying at the time, had been an entrant in very same film. At times the meeting became a little heated and out of hand and I strongly believe that these old guys were planted into the meeting by the Civil Aviation department to help push us into their arms and so into regulation. Where they could control us and reap an array of fees and charges from us in the not to distant future. Anyway, these old farts seemed to have won the day and I guess it was inevitable that a licence system would be introduced. Therefore, I did what I had always done, I just studied at David’s house and along with his help I sat the exams. In this way, I became the very first person in the U.K to obtain a Private Pilots Licence Group D for Microlights. This meeting also saw the birth and adoption of the name British Microlight Aircraft Association to represent our sport and I must admit to putting up my hand for its use to describe us. A couple of other names being bandied around during the meeting were the British Minimum Aircraft Association and the British Ultralight Aircraft Association, (that Australia adopted). Along with the name was the adoption of 100 kilos maximum weight for the aircraft, although this was later to be changed.             To give you a little idea of how crazy some of those early regulations were. In Australia, their Civil Aviation people had tried to ban them completely. With the excuse that they could crash land on to a road and in to a car, killing people. The flyers at that time were only experiencing very short flights around a paddock or field as they call them. In their haste to beat the regulations and to be able to fly. They told the Civil Aviation people that they would not fly over a road. In doing so a law was passed to allow them to fly, but not over a road and that law stood for many years before it was finally changed.             Returning to my favourite funny film of the time, “Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines”. David and I always had a great laugh whenever one of us mentioned the word German. We both conjured up a picture in our heads of the German Officer in the film, always smartly dressed and marching in front of the German flying entrant to the race, while continually emitting marching sounds from his mouth.             One of our favourite television programs that we always tried to watch together was called “Game for a laugh”. It was a collection of ordinary people being place into very funny situations. Normally the show was made up of ideas from people who had contacted the television company suggesting certain member of their family that could be caught out and I was one of them. I wrote in suggesting that they film my wife Emily as I arrived home one day leading a rather large Elephant behind me on a rope. Because as Emily will tell you at times she never knew what I was going to bring home next. I guess I could fill a book on that subject alone. Anyway I received an answer notifying me that they had noted my idea and that when the next series was being filmed they would take it in to consideration along with a host of other ideas they had already received from all over the country. One day David asked me to help him move a few white doves from the Thorpeness village dove coup and to relocate them in his back garden. David chose the darkest of nights to ring me and I arranged to meet him by the Dove coup. We then had to balance our ladder up against the pole that had the large coup stuck on top about four meters up from the ground. The coup had dozens of little holes cut into it and in each hole, we hoped there would be a dove. Can you imagine what it is like to have to lean out from your ladder and to feel your way into the holes in the coup, trying to locate and grab a startled maniac white dove. Not to mention the heaps of dung that had accumulated over the years, along with the cockroaches and the odd mouse that sat inside awaiting the chance to bite our fingers. After the successful building and flying of the VJ23 and 24, David decided to put all of the knowledge that he had gained from the experience, into the designing of his very own Microlight aircraft. He spent a vast amount of his time designing, drawing and searching for the right materials. One night as a few of us were in the Albert pub in Aldeburgh having a drink while we waited for David to appear. Because he had been away all day visiting one of the giant chemical companies at Duxford in Cambridge, in his search for the right material. When he finally walked in he was carrying a small sample of what he called fibrelam, he had picked it up during the day. He wasted no time in throwing it on the table and issuing a challenge to us all, “See if you can break that” he said. It was only about a 300mm square in size and looked as if it was of honeycomb construction and only 20mm thick. It was soon established that there were to be no rules, so I grabbed it first, placed one edge on the floor and propped the other up against the bar. I then proceeded to kick into the middle of it as hard as I could with a heavy set of boots that I was wearing. It soon became apparent that the only thing I was hurting was my own foot. Once I had given up David grabbed it, looking for any signs of damage, however there was not. Chris was next to have a go, he laid it on the floor and stuck a chair leg in the middle of the material. He then dropped his full weight onto the chair a dozen times, deciding that all he was doing was hurting his backside. As he removed the chair a big grin appeared on his face. David picked it up and sure enough, Chris had put a very small dent into the middle of the material. However, as we all watched the dent slowly disappeared and we were all left looking at an unmarked piece of material. Several other people in the pub that night had a go, coming up with some quite bizarre ideas on how they were going to show David that his little piece of material was not indestructible. However, I have to be the first to admit that it survived not only that night’s torture, but also several other nights that were to follow and it was never even marked. The Ciba-Geigy chemical company had given him the sample so he could undertake whatever tests he chose. It only took him a couple of weeks to realise that he had a winner on his hands. It became the main ingredient as he slowly developed his own little baby and he named it the “Shadow”.             I spent many hour with David as I watched and helped him, developed this project from its birth right up to its test flight. In fact, he used me for a very unusual task nearing its completion. He had the wings set up on his lawn and laden with specially weighted bags of sand, in order to test the stress of each wing. When I arrived, I was asked to also climb up onto the wing. It had not only survived the weight at which it had been designed, but it had withstood my 14 stone of dead weight as well and that was some test. Then there was the time while David was designing the passenger’s seat and required me to keep climbing into the back seat so he could see how a big guy like me was going to coup in the slightly cramped position. The one thing I do feel sad about is that I never did experience the feel of what the Shadow could do in the air. I never even flew it as a passenger, which was a thrill I would have loved to experience. Although in those early days I do know that David was worried about my weight, especially when the Shadow was only in its early stages of test flying. It was a beautiful machine and I feel honoured to have played a very small part in its success. Talking of flying I even borrowed a friends two seater Trike and helped David get some very spectacular film footage of him flying over Parham Air Field. I had the cameraman in the seat behind me leaning on my shoulders filming, as David undertook some daredevil flying, by coming straight at me and turning at the very last minute. Mind you, it had all been previously arranged that no matter what happened, I had to keep flying in a dead straight line, allowing David to scare the pants off me. Later I helped him while he broke the world speed records for a Microlight at Covehide near Kessingland in Suffolk. Although I cant remember if it was in the VJ23 or the VJ24. Anyway I was the official observer for the timed run and what a beautiful fast run it was. At some time or other David had managed to attract the attention of one of the major oils companies as a sponsor. Duckhams were well known for their oil ingredients for two stroke engines and, as most Microlights at that time were two strokes. I guess it was only fitting that they chose the machine that would give them the best exposure. At one time while David was undertaking one of the many record attempts, he received a box full of official Duckhams light blue overalls, along with the large lettering of the companies name across the shoulders. David handed these out to the people who were assisting him at the time. To this day I still have mine and they are in mint condition, never know one day they might become a collectors item. I will have to get David to sign them sometime and maybe that will treble the antique value. There were now some very fast machines 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 under take one flight and in doing so to try and break about four records 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 a mere 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 and some 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 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 guy 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 in the book.             However on a brighter note, the British National Record of 91.62 miles set on 05.06.83 was recognised and because of the American fiasco all Microlight definitions were changed so it would not happen again. It was agreed through out the world that the definition of a Microlight, 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. So to this day I am still a British record holder and possibly a European although I’m still not sure it 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.             Later I managed to get a group of local flyers together and we formed the Suffolk Microlight club. John Wells had just set himself up with a small country retreat and leisure park and allowed us to use his clubhouse at Saxmundham on a monthly basis. Once again, I became the secretary and took on board all of its daily running chores. I also got myself involved in the very first Microlight air race. I had tried to put one on in Suffolk, but had finally agreed to join forces with the Norfolk club. Together we put on an air race that was based at the Norwich Airport. I also became involved as a flyer, still having that urge to be first that had rubbed off from David. The first leg was a flight to an old World War Two airfield at Hardwick. The second leg took us to the Snetterton motor racing track, where a motorbike race meeting was in progress. I could not believe it, nothing had been mentioned about it, before we left Norwich. Being the first to arrive, I had no idea what was expected of me and there was nobody to follow. Anyway, I worked out where I was supposed to land, by a visual inspection of the ground. At least they had marked out a landing strip on the grass for us. As I landed right in the middle of the track, a group of riders came past going into a corner at a fast rate of knots. It must have been as much of a surprise to them as it was to me. Because they all fell off their bikes while trying to watch me land. Once I was parked up and refuelling, I noticed all of these bikies heading my way. At first I wondered what I had done wrong and started to get a little worried. However, these guys were amazed at the sight of my machine and just wanted to know what was going on, followed by hundreds of questions. Unfortunately, I did not win the race, as it was a handicap, but I did set the standards for those that followed. I was later told that some of the following flyers had a problem trying to get away from the bikies. I was also told that over the years several of the bikies later bought their own Microlights. There were a couple more races held in Norfolk one from the show ground and one from Little Snoring airfield. I never won any of these races, but I made a name for myself and still became a bit of a household name amongst club members. Although at times I felt it was because I was always a controversial type of guy. I also own up to a couple of miss quotes and minor verbal mouthfuls that grabbed the headlines over the years.             On another occasion, the Northfolk club organised a fly in, on one of the local grass airfields just north of Norwich. I was keen to show off my machine and to be involved in the sport in any way I could. My usual enthusiasm had me travelling up to the field on the Friday night. However, I was a little disappointed to find that I was the only person on a cold dark windy airstrip. I was worried that somebody might try to pinch my Microlight from the roof of my car. I decided to drive in to the village and to find a lay-by where I could sleep in the car for the night. For some reason I was having a good sleep and was dreaming that I was in a war. In the dream, I was in amongst all the action and there were many explosions going on around me. As I opened my eyes and peered over the top of my sleeping bag, I saw the local garage just across the road from where I was parked engulfed in flames and the bangs was the asbestos sheeting exploding. I was suddenly jolted in to wondering what to do next. After all nobody was going to believe that I was just sleeping there. More than likely, they would think that I started it. Therefore, I made a quick decision to move the car further up the road. Not wanting to waste any time and put a few cloths on, I just got out of my sleeping bag and got behind the wheel. At that very same moment, a police car came flying down the road and swung right in front of me and parked. As the police officer walked back to my car I rolled down the window and in only my under pants said, “Officer your not going to believe this”. As I continued he just laughed at me and asked me to move so that the fire engine that was behind him could park near the fire. I like to think that it was the Microlight on the roof that let me off the hook, because it had been well broadcast about the intended fly in. I had a further laugh when the fire tender turned up and four little men jumped out and all ran to the large front door of the garage and started chopping at it with their axes. Until that is the officer arrived and casually walked up to them and just slid the door open, it had not even been locked.             Norfolk also organised a towing weekend at the Little Snoreing Airfield. The idea being that anybody in the country could come and demonstrate their inventions to the Hang Gliding fraternity, as the towing of hang gliders was still in its infancy. There were several different ideas demonstrated that weekend but it was marred by a very bad crash involving a young guy from the other side of the country, I believe his name was Gary. At one time, the Northfolk club had tried to stop him flying, saying that they did not think his winch was safe, as it did not have a weak link in the towline. However, they were shouted down by several bystanders that included top members of the Hang Gliding fraternity, who insisted that he had as much right as anybody else to demonstrate his technique. Who was the Norfolk club to say who would be allowed to fly when they had opened up the fly in to anybody who turned up. At that time, nobody knew what was safe and what was not. I think the Northfolk club were very lucky not to be sued over the accident, even though they had tried to stop the lad flying. The guy’s glider was towed up to about 600ft when it started to lurch to the right and in doing so, the line became tight and almost at breaking point, when suddenly the glider tucked and nosed straight into the ground             A few weeks later, I joined forces with the Norfolk club and we put an evening on in Norwich so that ideas could be tossed around about the lessons learnt from the towing accident at Little Snoreing. At times, it got quite hot and heated as several different points of view were offered around. However, one incident still stands out in the back of my mind. One of the Suffolk club members had travelled up to give his views. Brian Pattenden was one of our club members, had listened to the vast majority of people talking about towing the glider. When it was time for him to speak he upset the whole debate by showing facts and figure that proved that it should be the person that is towed while strapped to his glider. I have never seen a meeting fall into disarray over one persons view as it did that night. Brian was almost ostracised from the Hang Gliding community for making such a so called dumb comment. I heard later that he became so disillusioned with flying that he gave it up, moved to Ireland to become a hippie, and completely dropped out of site. A strange footnote to the little story is that within a couple of years the Hang Gliding fraternity in the UK finally adopted a towing method that towed the pilot and not the glider. Kind of makes you think doesn’t it, one should never dismiss any idea out of hand, with out doing ones home work first. As far as I know and in my opinion, that guy was never given the full credit he deserved. I wonder how many times that has happened in the world during the past 2000 years             At another Norfolk meeting, I arranged for a first aid worker to come and give the club members some basic instruction, so that we might be able to help anybody who might injure them selves in the sport. This turned out to be a good night and we all took turns using each other as the injured person. By the time the evening was over we all felt that we had mastered the basics of first aid. Not quite brain surgeons but at least we had leant enough to help somebody in need. While I am on the subject of accidents, I have to include the day that Emily and I went to a Norfolk meet. To take a look at there newly completed towing winch. I had decided to give it a try after hearing from several members that it was the way to go, especially as we lived in the flat lands. Emily stayed in the car while I joined the other club members on the field and started to set up my glider. However, John Sharp told me I could use his as it was already set up and it was exactly the same as mine. When it came to my turn, I hooked the towline on and balanced the kite above my head. Somehow, I did not feel comfortable and at the last minute, I decided not to take the flight. Ken one of the new club members who was behind me took my place. To my horror as his glider was being towed it locked to the right and plummeted into the grassy field with a deafening thud. Before I knew it, Mike Pulford made a dash to the main road, to get an ambulance. Seeing Emily in my car he raced up to it and jumped in telling Emily to drive, because there had been an accident. She raced away having heard the thump of the glider hitting the ground and knowing that I was next to fly, thinking it was me in trouble. Mike had not thought to tell her who it was. At the first house, Mike banged on the door and managed to get the occupants to ring for an ambulance.             It was mayhem at the airfield as everybody rushed up to Ken to try to help him. Unfortunately in the heat of the moment not one of us remembered the so call life saving first aid skills we had all been taught only a couple of weeks before. That is until Paul Whitely took over. Paul had always been accused of being a bit of a dare devil, a rebel and did not take kindly to laws and regulations. He was a law unto himself, but I might add that he was one of the best Hang Glider Pilots that I ever saw and flew with. What ever dare devil trick was invented he was always at the fore front perfecting it. If it had not been for Paul some of the big sites in Northfolk would not have been tested flyable. He never even bothered to attend the first aid course that I had put on. However, that day he calmly took over the first aid administration to Ken and I believe he saved his life. From that day on, I called Paul “Mr Unflappable”. To this day, I cannot tell you why I and indeed most of the other people attending that day, did not know what to do when we saw Ken lying in that crumpled up glider. To Paul Whitely I salute you Paul, in a time of need you came through and I know Ken appreciates what you did for him and indeed you saved his life. Ken spent along time in Addenbrookes Hospital in Cambridge having received severe brain damage. I am told that they re-educated him on the other side of his brain and would you believe a couple of year later he took up his old job as a schoolteacher.             When Mike Pulford got back to the field Emily was in tears and could not believe her eyes as she saw me walking back to the car, Mike had still not told her who had been injured. I do not think she grew for a week after that big shock.             I should also mention that the Felixstowe boys went to a fly in that was organised on the other side of the country. Once again it was a towing demonstrated and open to anybody who was interested. Sadly, the younger of the Wollerton brothers died when his glider tucked into the ground from several hundred feet, while being towed. Woolly as he was known was greatly missed by all who knew him in the Felixstowe community. At a meeting being held at Woburn Abbey I won six out of a total of eight prizes, David managed to pick up the other two. One prize was for the best looking machine. Unbeknown to me, while I was in the beer tent Emily and Mark cleaned up my Trike, entered it into the competition, and won. They were over the moon, and could not wait to give me the news. As well as medals, we 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. 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 three-hour period. I completed my attempt and was very happy with my time. I even believed it to be a winning time. Later I over heard 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 Trikes in front of them and on the final leg, when they could see the home base, just power back to the finish, as the Abbey stood out miles away. After hearing all this I made a very quick decision to make another attempt. I then managed to position myself taking off just in front of the Germans. Now they were going to follow me, you have guessed it!!!  I flew off in the wrong direction and those German fools just followed me, I even got back out side the three hour time period. The message in all of that is 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.             I also flew at one of the other great English stately home of Longleat. While I was attending one of the Mere meetings, a group of us including Nick Wriggerley (the builder of my very first Buggy Trike) flew off in formation and circled Longleat House looking into the window and also the Lions compounds. Unfortunately while we were flying back to Mere, Nick had an engine cut out. He was forced to land in a very small field and his wheel went in to a pot hole smashing the under carriage. We all managed to land safely and to assist him in repairing the problems. Later we all managed to take off safely and return to Mere.             On a different subject, at this time I was working for Brightside’s Construction Company at R.A.F Wattisham. One Saturday while on overtime but during my dinner break, John Foster and I went across the airfield and managed to get a flight in one of the camp gliders. It being my very first and I must say I enjoyed it immensely.  The only problem was that we were only towed up to about a 1000ft, so as you can imagine as it was not a hot day, we were very quickly back down on the ground un able to find a thermal. While at Wattisham, John and I found a Jackdoors nest deserted with the young ones still inside. I took two home and reared them by hand, just like I had done all those years earlier when I was at the primary school in Stowmarket. One of them became very tame and made an extremely good pet. He would fly down the road to meet me from work, the other was a little too wild so I let him go up the fields just past the children's playing field at Knodishall. The one I kept, I named him Jack and spend some memorable times with him. I did not want to part with him, but unfortunately a couple of years later, I had to give him to Julie and she let him go in the back garden where she lived at Snape. David managed to find some financial backing and went into production of the Shadow in a big way. He set himself up in a small factory in Leiston and I helped him with some of the electrics around the place. Later I gave him a hand whenever he required it, when he started the actual building. In order to cut costs he decided to build five machines at the same time and I must admit that the workshop, with the machines half finished looked very spectacular.             I started to build a Mitchell Wing and was hoping to power it up. I shared the cost with David and we purchased a set of plans from America. However I was a little restricted in where I could build it. Not like David who had an under house workshop. I had to build mine in the house, to be more precise in the front room. Emily was always getting very upset about the mess and the occasional glue globules on the coffee table. I would cut out all the wing spars and glue them on a special board I had invented, to hold the spars in place. As I finished each part I had to then store it in the attic, which was no mean feat when you consider how long each wing was.             Also in the front room along one wall would lay my hang glider and to get it there, we would have to open and pass it through the window. At other times, it would lay up the stairs, where Emily more than once fell over it. If it rained during flying I would have to dry the kite before I packed it away, it would then be draped all over the settee and arm chairs, Emily would be furious but I kept getting away with it.             January 1st, 1984 I was at a crossroads in my life, feeling fed up with things as there was no real future for us, or so I thought. I asked Emily to go for a walk with me around the fields of Knodishall. It was the middle of the afternoon and quite warm for a winter’s day with a cloudless sky. There had been a frost the night before, so with Buster running along behind us, we started off through the children's playing field and headed for the village of Friston. While we were walking, we were talking about different subjects and current affairs. After a time I asked Emily if she was happy with our way of life. She told me that she would like to move away from Knodishall, but to where she did not really know. In the past, we had both shown an interest in moving to the West Country, somewhere in Devon or Cornwall, but she knew that was only so I could fly hang gliders. With all this talk of moving the old fire inside of me about moving to Australia was rekindled. However, knowing that I had been turned down around a dozen times to date, I quickly gave up that idea. I then surprised Emily by suggesting a move to New Zealand. Thinking that at least I'll be near my life time’s goal of Australia, then perhaps one day I would be able to fly over for a visit and see my cousin Ivan, who I had not seen since leaving school in 1958. Emily seemed very warm to the idea, so we discussed the subject further as we walked along. By the time we reached home we had both decided to give it a try.             That night I wrote a letter to New Zealand House in the Haymarket London to ask for some papers on the subject, which duly arrived back in about a week. We spent a further week reading them all and then filled out the necessary forms, getting references and witnesses.  This took around five more weeks and then I had to write to the New Zealand Electrical Regulation Board, sending all my trade papers to get my trade accepted in New Zealand.             I was also told that to assist my application I would stand a better chance if I had a job to go to, although at that time Electricians were top of their emigration list of wanted trades. A report said that they were eight hundred short in their work force. Therefore, I wrote to Electrix an electrical company in Auckland. After a few weeks, Electrix wrote back with an offer of a job in Auckland or New Plymouth, to accompany my application to New Zealand House. Now it was just a matter of sitting back and waiting. Another record attempted I tried, may have caught David off guard, as he was not aware of my intentions. He had always told me that he would assist me to obtain a world record in any way he could. While I had always told him that I would not mind if I only held on to it for just one day. However, I knew that he was also about to attempt to break the very same 189-mile World record, during a particular weekend. Therefore, I chose the weekend just before his attempt, I did not involve him in my planning as I thought he would be very busy working out all of his own details. I just sprang it on him, during a Friday nights drinking session at the Albert public house in Aldeburgh. I just came straight out and asked him to witness my take off from Thorpeness early the very next morning and would he sign my barograph. I was to attempt a flight from East to West of England, taking me from Thorpeness the furthest point East to Aberystwyth the furthest point west of Great Britain. I was flying a borrowed Dual Striker, with 440cc Trike unit belonging to Trevor Scott, a friend of mine. Who was to chase me across the country in his sports car and trailer to retrieve me from where ever I came down. If I come down I was to ring Emily and Trevor would ring Emily every half hour just in case. On March 17th 1984, I took off from Thorpeness cliffs at 12.05pm, with a North Easterly wind behind me, which was not favourable for my attempt, I had been hoping for an Easterly. The flight had been delayed because of very poor visibility and upon reflection I should have took off earlier. The conditions did not improve and I knew that this weekend was my one and only chance. I could not climb too high in order to take full advantage of what wind there was, because the visibility was so poor. Unfortunately, I had to keep the ground in full view in order to navigate safely to my objective.  I tried to fly a straight line due west, heading for Cambridge. In fact as I got further in land, the conditions allowed me to climb to a better altitude. Just after passing North of Newmarket I went through a thunderstorm almost spinning out of control and loosing a lot of the altitude I had just gained. I managed to pull the Trike out of a dive before I hit the ground. It is worth looking at my barograph print out to see the instant drop in altitude that I experienced. I then continued over Stratford Upon Avon and on to Shrewsbury, heading for Shoddgon in the heart of Wales. Unfortunately, I ran out of petrol and 3h-50min later, I came down 30 miles short of Shoddgon, at a place called Evesham. Sadly, I had only completed 156 miles.             The wind not being directly behind me had not assisted my flight and I had relied on it to help me conserve my fuel. I estimated that I was about one hour short of the Welsh Coast. I landed on a farmer’s land, while managing to get into the smallest of fields running down hill. I then walked up to the farm house to try and use his phone to contact Emily. Funny but the farmer had seen me land through his study window, while he was practising a mock aviation exam. He was very helpful and wine and dined me while I awaited my chase car, which was only 30mins behind me. That in its own was quite an achievement by Trevor, because if you check the road maps of England you will see that most of the roads run North to South, while Trevor had to drive East to West. Sadly, I never did hold that elusive World Record, but it was a great feeling to have participated and to have given it my best shot.             However, I was the first person to hold the Bronze and Silver FAI Calibri Flying awards for Microlighting. In addition, at the time I left England I was well on the way to becoming the first person to achieve the Gold award. The names of the first fifty people, who would achieve the Gold Award, were to be kept on registered for all times sake. I was one of only three people in the UK racing to be the first through out the World to achieve this particular award, on of the others was Pete Davies who flew David’s Shadow. Sadly my accident and move to New Zealand put paid to all that. However, at least I still have the Bronze and Silver badges that I still have in my possession.             David’s World record attempt took place the following weekend to mine and thrashed the existing record. Unfortunately, I was not part of the team, but it was good to see the Shadow prove it’s self once again. It is always good to see a Suffolk person do so well, while many people regard Suffolk as the backwoods of the country. Many achievements have come from our part of the world. I used to proudly wear a badge that read, “You won’t hurry me I come from Suffolk”, that just about sums up most of the local’s attitudes. While I have to add that at one of the Mere Hang Gliding Championships, I saw a guy wearing a badge that said, “I’m from silly Suffolk”. The twist was that he actually came from Somerset, maybe I should have said silly Somerset. No offence to the Cider apple pickers of the west county, it is a great product, been drunk on it many times.             On this attempt, David brought in an unbiased out sider to evaluate the Shadow and to take it to the next stage in its development. Pete Davies took off from Parham Airfield and successfully flew to Lands end a distance of 340 miles in around 5 hours, at an average speed of 71 mph, all on about 18 gallons of fuel (82litres) and thrashing the old record of 189 miles.             All the time this was going on, I was still keeping up with my flying. I had sold a Solar Wings two seater Trike unit to Bob and John Foster, farmers from Badingham in Suffolk and was teaching them how to fly. I never made any money from this deal, I even knocked off my commission so they could have it cheaper. One Sunday in May, I took them to Flixston airfield to give them some instruction. In addition, at the air field was David, Chris and Dave Clarke showing off as he usually did, especially while he was flying. During the day, I took off with Bob in the passenger seat intending to give him a few lessons. At the same time Dave Clarke also took off and started to buzz me. I believe he was showing off to everybody there and also trying to belittle me. Stupidly I took up the challenge and the two of us started a dogfight. I just forgot that I had Bob on the back of my machine. Well the buzzing got closer and closer and the turns got tighter and tighter until I just lost control and ended up in a down wind stall. I was just too low to pull out of it and ploughed into the corn crop growing by the side of the runway. I can remember the corn rushing up very fast at me and thinking that the control A frame bar in front of me would cut me in half, if it hit me. Suddenly there was a big crash and it was all over. I ended up on the bottom of the twisted mangle wreckage with Bob on top of me and the engine on top of him. The first thing I noticed was the smell of petrol, remembering the film “The Great Waldo Pepper”, there was no way that I was going to burn to death. I just struggled until I was free and managed to crawl out of the wreckage, emerging first. Then all of a I sudden I realised that I was still in one piece, I could not believe it, specially after I looked back at the heap of twisted mangled debris that lay beside me. Not only that but I could move every part of my body and had no blood on me anywhere. Once I had my senses all together, I realised that Bob was still lying back in the wreckage. I rushed back to help him out, while two other people arrived on the scene to also help me, but they were complete strangers. My old friends of the past did not even come over. Incredible neither Bob nor I had even punctured our skin. There was not a broken bone or a drop of blood anywhere to be seen. Unfortunately, this was more than could be said about the Microlight, as it was a total write off, or so I thought.  I went home from this incident really upset with what I had done, to let myself be goaded into something that almost ended in tragedy was totally unbelievable and just not me. At one stage, I had thought of punching the living daylights out of Dave Clarke, but upon reflection, it was stupid of me to have let a clown like him get to me in the first place. I have always been known as a person who does things my way. What other people want to do is totally up to them, I pride myself with having the courage of my own convictions. I also knew that David Clarke was not a stable person, having had accidents in the past. In fact, other members of the flying fraternity in the area had called him crazy many times, but somehow they had turned to him and away from me. Maybe I should have been a swine and then I would have had more friends or at least that is the way it looked to me. This was the very first accident that I had been involved in, where my flying and decision-making had been the course of the problem, something I pride myself with. Although I have often wondered, how and why the division between us came about. For as much as I disliked Dave Clarke, if he were involved in an accident. I would have administered mouth to mouth to the guy, with out any hesitation. It is so strange the way the world is advancing. Unfortunately, as far as I am concerned in the human stakes, I feel we are going backwards. It’s got to the point where even members of the same family would not give mouth to mouth to their own kin. I always thought that things changed in the flying fraternity once the regulations came in. To me the camaraderie and friendship of weekend fly-ins did not seem the same. There always seemed to be people around who were trying to part you with your money. Although some people might say that it was going to happen, come what may. Because of this incident I was determined that New Zealand must hold a brighter future for me and my family, while everything here in the UK was going wrong for me. It seemed that my world was collapsing around me in many ways.             Well the brothers were very good to me, as they decided to send the wreckage back to Solar Wings for a rebuild and that I would only have to pay one-third the cost. That was good, really the whole thing was my fault and I should have paid the lot. I do not know what I would have done if I had injured Bob in anyway. Just the thought of facing his family if Bob had been killed, as it was it was bad enough and what of Emily. If the Foster family had sued me, we would have lost our house. It just does not warrant thinking about, Emily was also very good over this incident, I think it cost me about seven hundred pounds and that was money she owned as well. Later that year the brothers invited me over to their house to have a word with me. Bob said, “Do you know why we were not killed in that crash”, I said no. “Well unbeknown to you, before you took us on our first flight, we got the local Vicar around to our barn, where it was rigged up and he blessed it”. I am not going to disbelieve them, because there was definitely something protecting and watching over us that day.             The boys I had befriended during all my early flying had finally deserted me, nobody even came round to see if I was alright, they just left me in total isolation. Once he knew I was emigrating Chris was heard to say, "He doesn’t have to leave the Country, he only crashed a Microlight". I have not seen Chris from the day of the accident in 1984.             In late May 1984 I took a couple of weeks off and went flying on my own in the west country, it was a time that I wanted to be on my own and to contemplate what the future held for my family and me. One evening when I rang home to see if Emily and the children were okay, she informed me that Bernard Matthews had been on the phone offering me a job. Reluctantly I told her to ring them and accept the job and that I would start on the following Monday morning. This cut my intended break a little short, but at least I would be in different surrounds, so it would be like a break. Bernard Mathews Turkey Processing Plant is based on an old World War Two Air field at Halesworth in Suffolk. I was employed as a maintenance Electrician and teamed up with Ken Akerman a fitter. Ken had been all around the world as a fitter in the oil industry, so we had a little in common and got on well together, talking about this and that. I told him of my intentions to go to New Zealand and his eyes lit up. That was what he had always wanted to do, but his wife did not want to go. Therefore, you can just imagine how we got on and what we talked about. One day his wife told me jokingly that she wished I had not come along, as I had rekindled old fires within her husband.  One morning in July I went to work and some one told me Bernard Mathews was to build a factory in New Zealand. I smelt a rat and I thought Ken was setting me up for a big leg pulling joke. Therefore I never said anything to him, not wanting to walk into his neatly laden trap. However, later on that morning I found him bubbling to tell me something. He had already been to see the boss Paul Barker about putting his name on a list to go and help in the construction of the factory. I told him I thought he was pulling my leg, he laughed and said no it’s true, go and see Paul for your self.  This is what I did, where I explained that I already had an application going through for emigration to New Zealand and would he consider me to go and assist in the plant construction. He asked me about all the details and said he would let me know.             About a month later, I was called into the office and made an offer. The New Zealand Company, Advance Foods Ltd had decided to pay part of my fare and use me to assist in the building of the plant and then to show the maintenance department how to maintain the machines that would be sent out from the UK. A couple of weeks later Bruce Newcome came over from New Zealand to look at our factory, while there he came into the workshop and interviewed me. The interview consisted of, "So you want to come to New Zealand". I said, "Yes", "Can You Drink," he asked, "Yes" I replied, "You got the job” he answered. I then thanked him and that was the end of that, I had the job. He then told me all about the intended factory, the wages and the town where it was to be built namely Waipukurau. The whole discussion lasted just ten minutes, because I was suddenly dragged out to a machine break down in the factory.             While my emigration was being processed, I had further interviews and medicals. So Emily and I took a gamble and started selling a few of our belongings and gearing ourselves to go, we put the house up for sale and sold my Microlight and sat back to await what might happen. My Mitchell Wing had never been completed and so it was never test flown. Unfortunately, when the New Zealand trip came up and I could not find anybody who would take it off my hands. All I could do was just smash it up to get it out of the roof and take it up to the local rubbish dump. It was an absolute waste of time and money and I felt very upset about it all. However, I did give the plans to a hang glider friend, who even forgot to thank me for it, what a strange world we live in.             The first week in December, we got the okay, from the New Zealand Government, that our application had been successful. I posted lists of gear up for sale on Bernard Matthews’s notice board and around the village. Most items were sold very quickly, but a few items of furniture we held onto until after Christmas, so we had something to sit on during the festive season. Unfortunately, it was a bleak Christmas for us as a family, we did not buy any presents, as we did not want more gear to take with us. I was very heart broken with what I had to throw away. It included a massive collection of hang gliding literature that included just about every leaflet ever produced by the manufactures at that time. I had a matchbox collection that consisted of well over 500 items, I ended up giving it away to a schoolboy who’s father worked with me at the factory. Then there was the TV I sold to Steve a guy on my shift at work. Within a week of him paying me cash for what was an almost a brand new set, its tube blew up with in a few days of him taking delivery of it. One item that hurt both Emily and me was when we sold one of Marks earlier Christmas presents, a small red plastic peddle car. Because he had finished using it, we had placed it in the attic intending on giving it to one of the grand Children we were hoping would come along one day. Like I have said earlier I let Julie have my treasured Jackdoor that put a lump in my throat several times over, gee I loved that bird.             I went over to my parents house at every opportunity to see them, knowing that it might be the last time that we could be together. In those times, not many people were flying around the world as they do today. If I wanted to return for a holiday to see them, I would have to save up the air fares and that might take several years. On one occasion as we were all walking around the shops in Stowmarket, we went into Woolworth. As I was walking around, I am sure that I saw Brenda, but I was not sure so I was scared to talk to her. I found myself following her around the shop and at one time we both stared each other, however neither of us spoke. Once we had left the shop, I was sure that it was Brenda and to this day, I kick myself for not saying hello to her. It was the last time that I ever saw her and is a big regret that we did not speak to each other.             January 1985 came in very cold and it was now exactly one year since we first spoke about immigrating to New Zealand. The house sale was going through, although it looked like it was going to be a slow process. Therefore, we decided to leave even though it was not sold and we set a date of 10 February 1985 and booked our seats. The only items of belongings we kept were packed into 5 very small wooden tee chests and sent ahead of us. Our worldly belongings consisted of mostly mementos, photos, a few books, video’s and the little wooden cross from Tiny’s grave in the back yard. I decided that all we would take with us on the plane was four large suitcases of clothes and Buster 2 our white Chihuahua dog.             There was one last surprise that I sprung in England. When with Ben’s help, we contacted all the members of the Forbidden Fruit pop group, apart from Ray that is. Then on the last weekend of January we all drove right across England and Wales to Mt Snowden and sprung a surprise visit on to Ray Callahan. Poor old Ray by this time he had contracted MS and had settled with his family on a remote farm on the mountainside. Ray had been very lucky and found a good job working at local Hydro Electric Power Station.             Anyway, his wife had planned to go for a horse ride when we all turned up on the Saturday lunchtime. What a shock on Rays face as he came outside and peered in the car that was all fogged up with condensation. We just never thought that the shock might have been too much for him. We spent from then until about 4am Sunday morning just laughing and talking about the group. Playing recordings we had of the band, looking at photos and having one hell of a drink. It was a fantastic weekend to be remembered and cherished by all.             Ray's wife gave us a good breakfast and at about 11am Sunday morning we all said our farewells. After making a promise to all meet up again in the year 2001. Then in the mid afternoon we left for home. For a Monday morning start and my final weeks work at Bernard Mathews.        The weather during that early February was very cold, with lots of snow and the temperatures had been down as low as -16 degrees. Well we made all our plans and booked a taxi to take us to Gatwick airport, leaving Knodishall at 6am Sunday morning the 10th February. On Saturday the 9th, I planned a party at the Knodishall “Butchers Arms”, later to be called the “Frog and Toad” public house. I invited a few friends, along with Julie and Sue. Most of them came especially the old band “Forbidden Fruit”, Ben, Ron and Dave, unfortunately Ray could not make it as he was still in Wales. There was a pleasant surprise when Dave Cook came and wished me all the best.  It was nice seeing him again and we spent some time talking about some of our old time flying exploits. What I enjoyed most was to see Julie and Sue. It was the first time we had been out for a drink together and here I was saying goodbye to them. While keeping an eye out through the window all the time watching the snow fall and getting deeper. Therefore, I rang the taxi driver Bunny Adams and asked what he thought. No problem he said my old car can get through anything Therefore, I took him at his word and carried on enjoying the party. Only occasionally pausing to look through the window, watching the snow getting deeper and deeper. What worried me was Buster our dog.  In order to get him into New Zealand he had undergone a course of blood tests and drugs, all timed to lead up to the 10th February, if we missed the flight it would put me back two months. I would have to go through the routine all again and I was not leaving without my Old faithful pal Buster, to me he was a member of the family. As a foot note Busters ticket cost more than Sharon and Marks added together, I believe it was around £800.             The party finished around 11.30pm. As we said all our goodbyes and walked home in the even deeper snow. Emily and I both agreed that there was no way that we going to get out at 6 am the following morning. We all had a sleepless night on the floor of our furniture less house and were all up at 5am getting ready for our 6am taxi arrival. There must have been three feet of snow out on the roads, I rang the taxi guy’s house and his wife said he had left but was stuck in a drift some where. What luck I thought this could only happen to me. At 6.30am from our front room window, we could see the council snow ploughs opening up the main roads to get us out, the taxi driver had rung them. He finally arrived at 6.50am and boy was I relieved. We said a few farewells to the few locals who came to wish us well. At 7.15am we were on our way but at only forty miles per hour. It was a tight squeeze in the car, because of the rather large suit cases. We had to store the spare wheel inside the car and Mark had to sit on it, while Sharon was pushed up against our small hand luggage bags. It turned out that Bunny the driver had a brother in New Zealand and that his father who used to be my Union reprehensive on Richard Garretts factory, had  gone out to see him only a couple of weeks earlier. Although sadly I was to learn a few months later he passed away while still in New Zealand.                        The dead line for buster to be at the cargo terminal was 11am. We arrived at 10.50am. Phew, we just made it and saw Buster into his cage after he had his last meal for two days. We then made our way to the main air terminal. I'm not the sort of person who eats out very often, in fact when I do its only snacks. As we were probably leaving the UK for good, I gave them all a surprise, we all sat down to a good meal telling them to order anything they fancied. 2pm came around and we were all herded on to a 747 Jumbo jet, but I was adamant that I would not fly unless my dog was onboard. The captain came back personally to me and assured me that Buster had been loaded safely on board, I then gave the Captain permission to leave and we had a very rough take off. At times, I thought the wings were going to flap off, but it calmed down once we were about six thousand feet. Looking out of the small windows, I saw Ireland, Iceland, Baffin Island, Hudson Bay, Rocky Mountains and Salt Lake City, before we finally landed at Los Angeles Airport. The only thing I can remember after that 11-hour flight was the long walk to the terminal waiting room and that a can of Coke Cola costing £1. The exchange rate at that time was almost one for one, £1 to $1. Then a six-hour hop to Tahiti where we stayed onboard. Then it was another six-hour hop to Auckland, arriving at 8am on a Tuesday morning the 12-02-85. To a little disappointment, I had dreamt of hot sunny days and what was this, it was cloudy, raining and windy. Although I must admit that by 11am it was very hot and humid. We got Buster out of his cage to give him a run on the grass to stretch his legs. I bought two sausages from a cafe for him, they tasted horrible, being made of mutton. Then it was back into his cage and at 2am, we boarded a Focker Friendship Aircraft and flew to Napier on the East coast. Looking out of the window at Napier, it looked just like the pictures in a book that we had purchased in London on one of our trips to New Zealand House. I must add that we were all very excited and I thought the country looked fantastic. There was that little something inside of me that told me that I had made the right decision and that I was going to like our newly adopted county.             Walking into the arrival building, Mr Les Grant made himself known to me. He had been sent to pick us up, a very nice guy. He was known as the unofficial Mayor of Waipukurau and is still a good friend to the family. Grabbing all our belongings and Buster, we all crammed into his Nissan estate car, for an hour’s drive to our new home at 15A Bedford Terrace Waipukurau. A house that Advance Foods had set up for us and at one time I believe the mayor of Waipukurau had also lived there. Emily by the way was on my lap, as it was very cramped in side, our four large suitcases taking up a lot of the room. However, Les was a good host to us and was giving us a full commentary all the way, with names of towns, rivers and areas.             When Emily and I first told my Mum and Dad that we intended to move to New Zealand, Mums first words to us was and I quote, "What do you want to go there for, they live in tin shacks". The first houses we saw as we drove along the main road towards Waipukurau were not in the best of condition, as quite a few of them looked like they were in need of renovation and a good coat of paint. Most of them also had corrugated tin on the roof. Emily and I kept looking at each other as we passed yet another one. Finally, we both looked at each and said together "They Do".