Some of the best years of my teenhood were spent in the Air Training Corp, or ATC. A youth club for air cadets, we were taught everything from the principles of flight and archery in between flying lessons, spending swathes of summer at camp to get a taste of RAF life.
I flew in Chinooks, sat in Typhoon cockpits and met the Red Arrows, returning to my school with tales of speed and adventure. It almost made up for having to wear the regulation scratchy wool jumpers, horrid hairnets and American Tan tights.
