The stunning scenery dropped away as we gently chugged back towards the coast. The Tiger Moth is such a timid and well-mannered little filly that I allowed myself the luxury of a few moments of blissful dreaming about life in the cockpit of a Hurricane – screaming through the skies in pursuit of a panicking swarm of Jerry fighters.
My transition to fighters couldn’t come fast enough!
My reverie was broken by the appearance of Portsmouth off my left wing.
It wasn’t long until Gosport spread itself out before us.
Lucky pulled Custard into an aggressive inverted half-loop in order to lose some height. I waited a few moments and then followed him… grinning from ear to ear as my stomach dropped away and the wind roared past my face.
As Gosport’s quaint old houses rushed up to meet me, I caught a glimpse of Custard cruising out towards the edge of the town.
