Viscounts were the sound-track to my childhood. Living under the Bovingdon VOR beacon, it seemed I could always hear a those whistling Darts, as they went round and round the stack, waiting to head into Heathrow. As is the way of these things, you never imagine they won’t always be there.

Who remembers the Viscount full of passengers that ran out of fuel and belly-landed in a field at Ottery St Mary in Devon ?

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