Having served in the RAF I was naturally interested in flying — in fact, before those days, I had built and flown model aircraft.

My son, when he was in the Air Cadets, soloed in a glider at West Malling, and my daughter became an Air Quartermaster in the WRAF and also flew gliders. Neither of them continued as they moved on and, of course, the cost of a glider was very high to most young people.

I realised that I was ‘too old’ but couldn’t resist climbing up to photograph these ‘Sky Gods’. This went on for two or three years until one day someone said ‘If you are so interested, why don’t you have a go?’ I replied that, much as I would like to, I had left it too late as I would be over the age limit.

‘No age limit’, I was told, ‘as long as you’re fit’. So, I booked in for a day’s trial lesson, found it very exciting, and started a club training course. This was two years ago, when I was only 78 years old. I bought a nice safe glider which I can put in the boot of my car and I was soon a Club Pilot, and was ‘off’.

Training clubs cast you out to find your own way but I was very lucky in finding a club at Glynde where the chief instructor was kind enough to keep an eye on me and even invited me twice to holiday with him and his family (wife, young boy, and girl) in South Wales and we flew from the local mountain (take-off 1,500ft) over Abergavenny. The second time we went on to Hay Bluff (660ft) and Tallybont Hill Fort (800ft). On my 80th birthday (August 03) I told my instructor that I would really like to celebrate with a flight, if the weather was kind and I was able to fly from Mount Caburn. This was leaked to the press and to my surprise my flight was filmed by Meridian TV and I just got home in time to see it.

Since then I have been exploring the sites of the South Downs. My instructor, being a past British paragliding champion, was given a free trip to India to publicise a gliding site and this led to seventeen of us departing in October 1993 to sample this place. We flew from Heathrow to Delhi and then had to change to a near-by airport where it had been arranged for the pilots to be flown in one aircraft and our gliders in another. After a while we realised there was only one aircraft and we were refused as being overweight. Whether any baksheesh was circulated, I don’t know, but half the fuel was drained and we were then flown, with our gliders, to Simla (now known as Shimla).

From there we were refuelled and had a flight to a strip near Dharamsala (home now of the Daili Lama). Here we were picked up in vans and driven to our ‘holiday bungalows’ where we had a meal and were soon in bed.

Next day we were taken to examine the landing site. There were three Daili Lama temples in the village of Bir (pronounced beer) and our landing was alongside the Daili Lama’s school cricket pitch. This all used to be a tea plantation and was ‘stepped’, which created a bit of fun sometimes, when landing ‘across the grain’. The we were driven up the 14kms to our take-off at 7,000ft. On the way we stopped at a small temple to pay our respects and ensure a safe time on the mountain. Because of the hairpin bends the trip up took nearly an hour through thick trees and rhododendrons, and dust from the dirt road. Fortunately, our drivers were very careful and safety-conscious, not like the ‘old days’.

At the take-off there was a char-wallah shop which even did light meals. How he made a living before it became a paragliding site, heaven knows. He charged three rupees the first day, for a glass of tea, but probably had a word with his financial adviser, as after that it was four. We had tea and ate our sandwiches and then did a trial run down to the landing site, where most of us landed OK. One or two found the landing speed higher than ‘at home’ and made contact with the small prickly trees. It was decided that in future that would cost a box of beer (twelve bottles) at the end of the day and proved to be a good idea. In my three weeks I only bought two. At the end of the day we would end up in the garden of a café-cum-place with ‘rooms’. This was one of the temples, painted with reds and gold and was a beautiful setting that was a bit different to your normal UK pub.

There were a lot of Tibetans around, apart from all the Priests, but everyone was very nice and friendly. At the landing site every landing would be surrounded by the local children who would seize our helmets and radios and run around highly delighted. Nothing was stolen and they loved having their photographs taken, especially by the digital cameras where they could see themselves. Everyone except me had global positioning gadgets and would go off each day to fly to ‘way-points’, etc. Occasionally they would fly back, but more often had to get a bus or taxi. Wherever they landed they seemed to have luck as, wherever it occurred, people would arrive and offer drink, food, and helped in getting them back to Bir.

I cautiously explored the mountain and was introduced to Thermals. I found I had encountered them in the past but was flying through ‘turbulence’ without realising it was a thermal. Each day I flew towards circling birds (kitehawks and vultures were plentiful) as soon as the hot air of the plain started to climb the mountain. Then I turned with them and worked my way higher and higher over the days. My highest day was a two hour flight up to 11,135ft. This didn’t seem too bad over the mountain but flying straight out over the plain there did seem a lot of space between my feet and terra-firma, sometimes.

One day I found myself in cloud a couple of times and hastily grabbed my compass which I had on a cord round my neck but it seemed a long minute before I could see ground again. Our last flying day was the fifteenth of November and we could feel a change in the weather which had been glorious. Next day, as we departed, our mountain was white with snow. At the Dharamsala strip we heard that our aircraft had started the flight but had turned back because of the poor visibility, etc., and our drivers kindly agreed to take us on the 10-hour drive to Delhi. Alas, arriving about midnight we found ourselves in a mammoth traffic jam and missed our flight. It appeared that delivery lorries are only allowed into Delhi about midnight. We stayed the night in a hotel and luckily the airline had room for us next day. It had been a wonderful three weeks and I was on ‘cloud nine’ for a further few weeks. Hope to go again this year!