A true story from my Dad

It came to pass that one day in the old school staffroom a new teacher was being introduced to the staff – Picture the scene: air heavy with tobacco and pipe smoke, with every now and then hints of a sweet aromatic smoke coming from where? (The new Art teacher is under suspicion.) “Ladies and gentlemen can I introduce you all to James. James will be joining the Science department this term. James trained at Birmingham, going into teaching after the war, during which he flew Spitfires in the RAF. He has worked in London, the West Midlands and I’m sure you would like to join with me and welcome James to our staff” Hip, hip hooray, bravo, hear, hear etc “so you were in the RAF?” Says someone “Rather!” (Notice how James is portrayed as a stereotypical upper class idiot for comic effect) “Joined up in ’40. Lucky to stay alive. Seat of the pants stuff, don’t you know, lost plenty of chums [You will tell me if I’m overdoing this…] in the drink” “Oh you should have a word with Tom (Viscsak) He was in fighters in the war” “Oh I say, really? I started with Hurricanes at Biggin Hill, moved onto fighter command based in Suffolk, then finished with 23 squadron at Abingdon. How about you Tom? Room suddenly goes quiet. “I was in the Luftwaffe……”

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