Bouncing around over the Dover VOR this morning, I’m still not happy with my instrument work. I took off with a friend acting as lookout pilot and saw very little other than my instruments until I was two miles from the end of the runway looking to land after an hour of ‘chasing the needle’. I’ve got to get that altitude control back to within fifty feet either way on a blind course and so I’m off banner towing with Bob on Sunday, first to Norwich for one tow and then to Weymouth for another and in between, he'll let me fly his bigger aircraft with the “Foggles” on; a grey and narrow little world of my own. It should be several hours of good practise but it’s desperately tiring work, which is why the autopilot was invented for modern aircraft.


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