Batting for the wrong side…

Ever though you were batting for the wrong side? For years I’ve campaigned to save RAF Driffield (East Riding of Yorkshire), while also being concerned at the plight of various oversized RAF transport aircraft. Then a phone call from Dad and memories of living in Cyprus – circa 1967.

Apparently the RAF almost cause my demise.

I was two and the family were about to return to the UK after a posting to Cyprus. But I wasn’t that well, so my parents took me to the RAF Medical Centre. I was seen by an RAF doctor and my parents were told that there was nothing seriously wrong with me. But there was and my parents took me back to the medical centre three times, and on three separate occasions they were shown the door. It got to the point when my dad was accused of trying to delay our return back to the UK. He was even threatened court action – a charge of bringing the RAF into disrepute.

But I was still ill and again my parents took me back to the medical centre. But this time I was seen my an army doctor. He examined me and immediately wrapped me in a blanket and drive me and my mum at speed to The Princess Mary’s Hospital, RAF Akrotiri (where ironically I was actually born). I had a severe chest infection and was not expected to live. If my parents had boarded the plane back to the UK, I would not have survived the journey.

My dad didn’t even get an apology…