Page 48 - Demo

46FLYING FARAGOSCould have been multi-engine%u2026. or There but for the Grace of %u2026..It is strange how seemingly inconsequential events and circumstances can have a profound and lasting effect out of all proportion.The first of these circumstances arose at Biggin Hill, where I had arrived for my selection procedure. I had applied to join as an engineer, a decision which had caused me to change my A-Level courses from Classics and History (at which I was reasonably good, despite their potential career limitations) to Maths and Sciences (at which, despite the vocational vistas they opened, I was fairly averagely c**p). During the medical inquisition, and on one of the seemingly endless forms, I had unwisely %u2013 I had not even graduated to being wet-behind-the-ears at that stage %u2013 owned up to having suffered from %u2018mild childhood asthma%u2019. The examining doc blinked a bit, consulted his notes, and pronounced that, as I was going to be an engineer, it didn%u2019t matter much, so he signed me off. I had no clue what A1G1Z1 meant, and wasn%u2019t really bothered either.For the second part of the selection process, we were shipped up to Cranwell where, from the palatial accommodation of Daedalus House, we got to play with ropes, planks and oil-drums in a hangar.This should have been during the College%u2019s leave period; however, by chance, the weather had previously been so bad that one entry had been sent on leave early, and had now returned to fly. Watching these aeroplanes buzzing around, seemingly at the speed of heat (Jet Provost?) - see what I mean about being green?), made me think that being a pilot might be a good wheeze; so, at my final interview, I broached the subject of a possible change in my application. The interviewing officer consulted his notes, said %u201cI don%u2019t see why not%u201d, and that was it.