I was reading just a few days ago, that a “White Easter” is actually more common in the UK than a white Christmas.
Well our first snow locally this year, missed Easter, but did finally catch up with us this weekend. I strolled to the bus in the now bright sunshine, staring at the snow still resting on people’s cars and hoping it would at least have melted from the wings. It had, but the black clouds now massing, threatened more and flakes started to fall as I left the bus and hurried for the shelter of the club.
I stared dismally out of the window, and waited for it to pass as I caught up on the latest news and goings on. To the west the cloud was on the ground, but it looked as though the worst of it might pass us by.
Half hour, to an hour later (coffee and a sausage bap blurred the exact timing) it cleared to patchy blue sky again, and Derek came out with me to help untie TOMS. As it turned out I needed more help that even that, since, despite recent efforts from others in the group, the starter again failed to live up to its name.
I winced at the horrible sound of the bendix conspicuously failing to engage with the ring, and scowled at the motionless propeller. Did you ever have a Lego Technic electric motor with an almost flat battery? Amplify that sound by about ten. That’s the noise. Yuk.
I climbed out miserably and glared through the gap below the prop at the visible bit of the starter, as if that would help. Without any particular plan in mind (wed already checked it wasn’t missing teeth causing the problem) I turned the prop over a few times before trying again. It was still no go and when WD40 and a few firm whacks were not enough to coax any performance from the thing, I again turned to Derek. “So, any of the club Tomahawks available then…”
Before too long there was, and aloft in the trusty HotelUniform I ambled around Gower and wandered off to look at the strip near Margam, with the aid of a new-ish Cambrian student who knew the way. (Handy since he lived almost on it!)
Bit marginal for a Tomahawk, (at any rate one flown by me) but a pretty spot. Now if I owned one of he those Ikaruses (that plural can’t be right can it?) it might be different…
The wind, chased about by those big bouncy clouds was gusting well off the runway now, and I made my worst crosswind landing in some time. I hope I didn’t put off my student passenger!
Then it was home to break the bad news about the starter to the rest of the group. Looks like we’re going to bite the bullet and have the 50 hour check done a bit early and get everything sorted at once (we need a new tyre as well)