I thought I hadn’t done much this year – and looking objectively at the hours logged alone (just under 20) that’s true. I logged the first of those in May, hadn’t done enough hours come July to review my SEP by experience.
It feels like more somehow though – the logged hours don’t reflect all the ride alongs, or any of the recent half-jaunt-half-practice trips in the X’Air for one thing.
They don’t reflect the frantic concentration and mixed frustration and elation of the tailwheel time that began the flying season this time around.
I do put brief notes in the boxes for some trips and “Rally. Troy. Overnight” is just enough to bring back all the amusement at watching my little nephew handling a club Tomahawk completely unfussed by the fact the turbulence over the hills was rattling both our teeth at the time. Or the telling ghost stories (The Headless Pilot of Sywell Aerodrome…) in the tent with the silhouettes of tails and wings just visible in the torchlight.
“Hwb” reads another box – but the half hour logged there, flown to sneak in a quickie before Swansea closed for the evening doesn’t include the waffling on at a Welsh language telly crew – burbling in muddled over-enthusiastic learnerish Welsh about aeroplanes.
Some comments are just a passenger name. “Steve” says one of them and that’s the student pilot who introduced me to the bloke whose delightful little flying machine I now own a share of.
Nope – the logbook doesn’t tell the story properly at all…