Having just started with Hawkers at Langley in 1951, and doing a routine production test flight in a Sea Fury, the engine failed above cloud, so he descended, picked an area, and landed on what turned out to be a field of green kale, only to be harangued by a crowd of potato pickers with words to the effect of: "You nearly killed us and our baby in the pram.  What do you mean by landing it so dangerously?"!

Turning now to my memories of AWB as a Father, one of the earliest was his lifelong passion for swimming. We would go to Guildford Baths in Castle Street where he would throw my sister Janet and me in from the top board, despite the loud protestations of the pool attendant! And, later in life, when my parents lived at The Chequers, in West End village, he would walk through the woods and then swim in the rather cold and muddy local lake and would even persuade my two sons to do the same!

During his time as Chief Test Pilot [1956-67] the family home was Primemeads Farm on Dunsfold Aerodrome. A few snapshots from my schoolboy days follow. Hurricane PZ865/G-AMAU, "The Last of the Many"; numerous private displays at Dunsfold after he had used his much-loved "hack" on a visit. And being allowed to taxy it across the airfield, with him standing on the wing.
 Flying with him in the Rapide to the Farnborough air show and on one occasion watching Gp Capt Pat Hanafin - I think Commandant RAE at the time - "borrow it" for an impromptu display during evening drinks at one of the chalets. ETPS Mess: during Farnborough week, we kids would enjoy being "dumped" in the TV room, being fed Coke or whatever. Some years later the tables were turned and I would be his chauffeur back home (whilst he of course slept).

At Dunsfold: sitting in one of the many parked Sea Furys on the airfield, with the Pilots' Notes and going through the checks with him; the Control Tower with SATCO Bertie Coopman; in his secretary Maureen Sterling's office at the weekend; the pilots  Neville Duke, Hugh Merewether, Duncan Simpson, Frank Murphy, Frank Bullen and David Lockspeiser; picking huge bags of mushrooms early on Sunday mornings; the lapwings  in their thousands on the airfield; our cricket matches playing for the Hawker Aircraft Sports and Social Club; shooting rabbits around the airfield at night in the headlights of my mother's Austin Somerset and selling them to the night shift to pay for cartridges. He taught me squash on the old concrete court and would do his (in)famous "Dunsfold swat", a forehand return down the wall on the backhand receive of serve, just above the tin, invariably catching me out.

I then went to the RAF College Cranwell. On leave in 1966, he fixed a trip for me to fly in a Red Arrows Gnat during one of their Farnborough practices (Ray Hannah was Team Leader), an amazing experience for a young Cadet! This loop was closed in September 1979, when, as a Hercules captain I flew the Red Arrows support trip for their last public Gnat displays, down in Jersey and Guernsey. He then flew with me from Kemble to Valley, where the Team had one last Gnat meet. We night-stopped, enjoyed the fantastic party, and then returned to Kemble the following day.

Other assorted memories: the Paris air show and the evenings at the Lido; his fanatical "eat fat, grow thin" diet - Guinness was OK, especially at the Leathern Bottle; sandbags in the boot of his Jag to show the weight lost; brandy and ginger - "Horse's neck" - preferably in the bath, with a good cigar; a morning person who, as we all know, would sleep at the drop of a hat, especially in nightclubs; a person not overly keen on bureaucracy; a sportsman - could play anything, but never quite mastered golf; artistic, creative, an inveterate letter writer, who loved scrawling with his felt pen, either on notebooks or the nearest plate, or, at times, tablecloth; determined (and sometimes bloody minded); very loyal to friends; another Cranwell memory where he visited in the Hurricane and for some reason was not permitted to give a display on departure, so took off, set course, and then did a continuous slow-roll into the far distance!

Naomi and I now live at the home he and my mother Mary set up in 1968, The Chequers, which is rather nice with all the memories that remain. However, I have yet to follow his habit of standing by the roadside, armed with hair dryer, clipboard and fluorescent jacket, in an attempt to slow down the passing traffic!