My Dad was a Spitfire Pilot in WW2 but perhaps fortunately was invalided out with a duodenal ulcer and confined to ARP in Nottingham where I was born in 1941. I don't remember the war and I never took to flying myself (except as a fly by night). Any way today I could not resist taking my newly acquired Brompton on the train to London to watch the flypast up the Mal. It was far more difficult negotiating the crowds on a new bike that is taking some getting used to. The seat pillar is not quite long enough and maybe Mark you can give me some advice on that.
Any way in honor of the RAF and any members with association I took many photo's of the fly past but I guess that the most spectacular was the Red Arrows.
Here are some finishing off on the train home where I could help but be attracted to a wholesome lady cyclist from Kent decked out in Red White & Blue. I also hesitate to show but with mum's permission, she took the photo, I had a lovely chat to a young lass less fortunate than most of us, she was fascinated by my feather.
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