Tail-end Charlie

Went with Tricia yesterday to see two Avro Lancaster bombers do a demonstration flight at the Little Gransden Air Show. I've never watched one fly before, and this was the first time since 1964 that two have flown together. It was one of the most moving things I've ever seen. The show's commentator said it was the first time he'd shed a tear at an air show, and he wasn't the only one. There was an absolute hush as they flew overhead in formation, two majestic giants trailing a history of pride, glory, horror and destruction behind them.

Paddy

My father was a rear gunner on a Lanc, the most dangerous job in the RAF. On sortie after sortie he sat alone at the end of the plane, cut off the the rest of the crew, surrounded by glass, perilously vulnerable to being shot. His capsule would have been very cold and cramped, with only his fur-lined leather flying suit to keep him warm for eight hours at a time. Suspended over the dark abyss until the searchlights below tried to find him and the flak started flying, he must have been frightened, lonely, maybe claustrophobic. He told me with regret some of the major German cities he "dumped a load over". How wonderful it must have felt to land safely after a night of such terror, and tuck into rashers and eggs before hitting the sack. Tail-end Charlies had the shortest life expectancy of any air crew, and he knew it. A hero if ever there was one.

The turret where the rear gunner sat

Sasha had quite a day of it, from the long car ride to the thronging crowds at the show. I made frequent breaks for a run and a drink for her, but even so. Tricia and I took flowers to the parents' grave and then had lunch in what used to be the Rose and Crown, now The Old Courtyard. Potton has changed dramatically, for the better. God knows it was a backwater in the 60s. It's always funny going back: not unpleasant or pleasant even, just interesting.

Chewing on her favourite piece of rawhide

It was also Sasha's half-year birthday, so when we got home we had organised a party for her. Some of her friends came - Lisl the whippet puppy, Griff the West Highland terrier, Molly the teacup chiahuahua, Charlie the black labrador puppy, Malcolm the giant boxer puppy, and Alfie the pale gold half lab and cocker spaniel. We laid out coloured bowls of different food around the kitchen floor for them, and I had baked a cake of banana, peanut butter and ground winalot with six candles, one for each month. Alfie preferred the candles to the cake, and luckily they hadn't been lit. Afterwards there were games in the garden: someone had given us a tunnel which they all had a go in, and there were throwing games and hiding games, and just tearing madly around the garden games which they never seemed to tire of. And then they all went home to bed. And when they woke next day they realised it had all been a happy dream.