Where to start? Well with the loss of the tampon, my most recent model, I suppose. I draged myself sobbing to Mayoor and his fine shop and after great words of comfort from Mayoor (that's a lie he laughed) we discussed my predicament needing a hand launch glider and I was ushered towards a box high up on the wall. The words on the box shone out to me. I wiped the dribble from my shirt as money changed hands.I offered a wave from my van window as I disappeared with a smoke of dust in my trail.
I arrived back crashing through the front door, kicking the dog aside with a beaming smile on my face.
"Don't crash this one!" My Wife said.
I unpacked beast in a frenzy likened to that of a child opening a Christmas present. Soon transfers were flying and my shirt was dribble soaked!
'Oh my!' I thought to myself as I realised it had a V tail wing.
'What the hell!! How does this work? How do I even wire it?'
The other day I was fighting back the tears of laughter that adrenalin springs to mind. We really are a unique bunch; standing at the sky as our pride and joy bumbles around, our heads, thumbs and fingers waggling frantically at our transmitters." Well thats what it is like for me anyway, fighting this planes through all kinds of manoeuvres and wandering if you can land it."
But then the gust appears, normally in my pants, when you have to land the beast. I quickly calculate the direction and get the perfect landing. In my case if nothing falls off or breaks off during the three bounces, wing tip stike and nose over then its' a landing.
There is always the fear of who noticed your landing; proudly you walk back to the guys, chest pumped out with a swagger of the hips and you continue with the conversational banter. Then Mayoor takes his helicopter up and you realise that you were just lucky.
The other pilots then take to the air; performing stunts and knife edges, loops and rol...
Looking out of the window, I see that not a leaf is moving? Could this be RIGHT? I check the weather; Yes it's right, so while crashing around in the kitchen, bedroom, spare room and under the stairs, I yell at the wife,
"What did you do with my flying bag?".
"Ohh that one I put it in the cupboard by the gas meter." she replied.
"WHAT!!! It's got my lipos in that bag!!! Babe why did you put it in the there?"
"I got fed up with seeing it under the dining room table."
With sweat dripping from my brow, I calmed down and checked everything.
"Yes, I'm finally ready" I thought.
I stuffed it all in the van and made for the field. During the journey a driver decided he didn't see my huge red van and pulled out in front of me. This sent my things in the back flying, but after I saw him waiving at me with fingers missing on his hand I carried on my journey to the field without mentioning anything. On arrival; upon opening the side door of the van it was apparent...
For those of you who have a man cave, a model room, a table to work on or a space to get things fixed; I envy you. Currently I have a space under the stairs 600x800cm that I share with a Hoover and an ironing board a bunch of coats, and so many shoes that if I wore a pair a week I still wouldn't wear all of them. Ohh and a light bulb.
Once I have battled my way in with a cup of tea in one hand and this huge bottle of glue in the other I can't get the wing in. The wing which sadly hit a tree, that had grown in the time I took off and attempted to land. So with half of it sticking out in the hallway and with the repair underway, my Misses announces that she wants to do the ironing. I refuse to budge, and she decides that if she can't do the ironing then she will take the dog for a walk. Guess which pair of shoes are the ones she wants to wear; the ones I kicked the furthest into the cupboard.
Where to start? Well at the beginning I suppose. Having moved to Cyprus and started model flying it quickly became apparent that I was useless and had no idea how to fly. A call to my local model shop sorted me out though. It was suggested that I get a flight simulator to practice on as the black bin bags were filling up with bits of planes. Mayoor kindly provided the package.
To my horror it wouldn't play on my Apple Mac not Mayoor's fault. I then embarked on getting a computer it would work on (a Cypriot machine) after hours and days of trying to understand Cypriot, I grew tired of trying and gave up. Eventually I found a man who could set it up and there I had it, Phoenix Flight Simulator.
Many hours of fun was had and my flying was so much better. " Now only one black bag was needed " and and the biggest pot of glue I could purchase.
After a few years later we moved back to the UK, and I found myself in a similar situation again. I found myse...