Thursday 4th February
Today would have been my father’s eighty fourth birthday.
He succumbed to pancreatic cancer in October 2009.
He was a fighter pilot and flew many different aircraft, all over the world.
The poem, High Flight, by John Gillespie Magee, an American, serving with the RCAF, flying spitfires in WWII, seems a very apt and appropriate tribute to my father.
My father, flying the lightning in the foreground, for 56 squadron
My father visiting the Canadian RAF, in front of a starfighter
My father bringing the fleeing Shah of Persia to England in an English Electric Lightning
My father, in front of his F4 phantom
Phantoms, 43 squadron in formation
My father, in his phantom, shadowing a Russian 'bear'
My father with members of the Blue Angels aerobatic team
My father, teaching Prince Charles to fly the phantom
56 squadron in Cyprus. My father exiting his lightning
My father, on board his yacht Rum Raisin
Hank n Frank, Tobago, 2002
In the last picture, here you are with your grandfather Hank.
(He disliked the names of Dad, Daddy, Father, Grandfather; so everyone called him Hank.)
We had so many wonderful sailing adventures with him on board his yachts.
Give each other a hug.
Miss you, my Angel father, Hank.
Love you, my Angel son, Frank.
Flying high together.
xxx xxx
The Journey of My Left Foot (whilst remembering my son) 