Models & a little
nostalgia
My first passion was
model aircraft
.
For my 63rd birthday treat, I visited the Southampton Hall of
Aviation and bought a couple of models:
1/72nd Airfix Sunderland and a bargain 1/24 Airfix Spitfire Mk1.
I already have that Spitty model but it was
too good an opportunity to miss at just under a fiver. However,
when I got home, I discovered that
some parts were missing. The kit was at a knock-down price because
someone had
started gluing bits together and apparently, got fed up.
The Spitfire kit was
missing its Merlin engine, propeller and spinner. I got over this
by making an
impression of the spinner and propeller (of that same Airfix model
I had previously made) in clay and
moulding a replica in Isopon car filler. With a little shaping
it turned out fairly well. This is now attached to
the earlier model which was strung from my old studio/gallery
ceiling at Shanklin.
The better prop and spinner, I fitted to the new model in which
I had installed the electric DC motor taken from
my "Reach" toothbrush (I shall probably become toothless!)
By means of an improvised electric connection on the
kit display stand, I can make the prop spin,... to the amazement
of all visitors :-)
The aircraft bears the ID of 234 Squadron and depicts the Spitty
flown by
Janusz Zerakowski 15th Aug 1940 when he shot down an Me110 which
crash-landed at Ashey, Isle of Wight,
This is one of our stories of the "Echoes of the Home Front"
series of prints with story-sheets.
The Sunderland kit was missing
some of its
propeller blades (this time due to bad mouldings)
I got round this one by portraying the aircraft with
one prop stopped but not feathered and its
other engines, just having the spinners mounted which
makes it look like the props are spinning
(well, a little bit like that).
I sprayed a lot of sooty streaking from
the static engine nacelle.
This one is now strung from the gallery ceiling with
my increasing collection of models.
Note: Although the graphic
left refers to "The New Worsley Studio"
this is now closed as I work from home in semi-retirement.
The model collection has come home with me!
I c
an
recall the distinct drone of a Sunderland. It is one of my childhood
memories.
Hit this link
for other models:-
Hurricane, Spitfire, Me 109, Stirling &
Heinkel 111
With further link to my special Stuka model and how painted
In my youth, various groups of
local lads used an old
aeroplane wing float (which I think came from a Sunderland) as
a canoe.
No one really owned it and there was an
unwritten / unspoken understanding that
anyone could use it as long as they tied it up when
they'd finished with it.
It could be found tethered to some ring or post at the
Fishbourne Car Ferry slipway which was much smaller and nicer
in
those days. I remember capsizing the float one night with
Ron Dobbs, a chum of mine. I was sitting inside and he was perched
on
the stern. We'd forgotten the tide was going out and had set out
to
cross the mouth of Wootton Creek estuary at Fishbourne to get
back to
our small tents on the point t'other side.
In those days at low water, in
the middle of
the mouth of the Wootton Creek, there was a
long, narrow mud bar on which a few private boats would,
at low water, softly ground at their moorings.
We, having a touch of the multiplying-eye through our
first ever experience of the "wicked-juice" obtained
at
the Fishbourne Inn, endeavoured to turn our craft seawards to
go round this island of mud.
The next thing I knew, the float was upside-down and to get clear,
I had to eject myself downwards.
I remember seeing the night stars from beneath the water. I was
suddenly cold sober and I thrust upward to
break through the surface and inhale sweet and welcome air. The
aeroplane float was going down nose-first
with Ron draped around its pointed backside. Great noisy bubbles
were gushing from its interior.
"Grab the paddles," I shouted.
(We'd recently clubbed
together to buy some really nice paddles for
our annual camping week on Wootton Point)
"Bugger the paddles!"
says Ron
So we swam for our lives to the
nearest place: That mud bar. We couldn't stand. The mud was soft
and deep. It sucked our shoes away.
My lovely sweater's sleaves (it had been hand-knitted by my mother)
stretched to twice their normal length,
all clotted with mud and with sparkling phosphorescence, like
dripping green diamonds.
We wallowed like slobbering swine
through the all-embracing muck, to someone's moored boat,.. aground,
there on the mud bar.
Off with all our clinging clothes.
"Put them in the boat. We'll get 'em back tomorrow"
Then, back into the warm night water to rinse our slimy skins
and swim, then hobble the rest of the way to our camp.
Two naked boys, slipping over barnacled rocks but with a mutual
intensity borne of survival.
At last: Our tents and then, in between rough blankets. We soflty
called to to one-another through
the tents' pungent, army-surplus canvas walls,.. reviewing the
adventure .
Next day we found our paddles
and,... There was our vessel! It also had washed ashore but to
a shingle bank on the other side of the creek.
We hailed a passing boatman.
It was the Harbour Master, Frank Young.
"Can you please row us to
the other side?"
Like a couple of pleased kings, we settled on the thwarts as the
Harbourmaster sculled at the stern.
"Can you divert a little
to that white boat over there?" we ask. "Its on the
way"
"WHAT? ... Are YOU the bloody
vandals that covered it with mud last night?"
The port side that we could then
see, was quite clean, indeed sparkling but, ... when we saw the
starboard side,....
AND THE INSIDE!!! It had been
a beautifully, recently varnished clinker.
From the few unaffected parts, we deemed that its owner must have
been proud and fastidious sailor.
It took us a good two hours to scrub it all clean.
-----------------------
THE OTHER TWO HUCKLEBERRIES:-
Shown here with Ron in swiftly arranged attire,
improvised from our blankets.
My other camping chums that golden
year were Ian Lennie and David Rugg (Ian and Buggy)
That evening, these two were stranded at the Fishbourne side of
the creek, for we had a
simple ferry system with the two-seater float: Two across, then
one back to collect the next.
And, how did our friends get across the water without the seaplane
float?
Ian and Buggy had their own adventure:
Having swum ashore, Ron and I hailed to them, telling of our mishap.
Apparently, they then "borrowed" a small dinghy, only
to find it had no drainage bung.
This crucial discovery was made mid-stream when water lapped around
their ankles.
They eventually made the long walk back to base, via Wootton Bridge.