On the BOAC VC10 flights to Nairobi, the pilots would invite children like me up to sit in the cockpit with them. Once they put me behind the controls and I was very nervous about making a wrong move that could throw us into a tailspin. I had a BOAC badge and a Junior Jet Club book, which the captain kindly signed for me on each voyage. Attractive stewardesses served breakfast, lunch and supper with metal cutlery, the seats were huge with loads of legroom for tall men and the adults puffed away on cigarettes. The cabin was ultra-quiet because the four big Rolls-Royce engines were in the tail, rather than under the wings. Somebody up there cares about you, the advertisements said. Before the Super VC10s came in, we’d fly on the East African Airways Comet 4, its interior all decorated with pictures of wildlife and Bert Kaempfert’s ‘A Swingin’ Safari’ tootling away before take-off and when you landed at Nairobi Embakasi airport.

When flying was fun
It’s been all downhill since the glorious anarchy of the Lollipop Special

issue 04 June 2022
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