CD's Report
Thursday morning, a slate grey sky and a forecast which seems to indicate that the gods are not at all pleased with our intention to paint the sky with beautiful lines and angles. While the rest of Britain basks in warm sunshine Saltby lies under a thick layer of murk which begins at around six hundred feet. I scrub at three o'clock, thunderstorms are threatened.

Friday. Clouds lift and so do spirits until Lionel Sole reports from a tug that "there is no horizon and it's like flying around in a milk bottle". He does not indicate if it is green or red top.... The unlimited pilots decide they don't like it regardless of colour. I scrub again, am I destined to be the only director in 15 years to fail to have a contest at the Nationals?

Saturday. Despite the forecast it looks promising. I climb into the motor glider with Les Merrit, still no horizon and a 1,500ft cloud-base but it's improving. We split the Unlimited known, and Andy Cunningham flies it from 2,500ft - the rest follow. By the time the Intermediate pilots are through their split program we have nearly 4,000ft between the ground and the fluffy stuff. I begin to think we might just do it! The judging position  is swiftly changed so that the sun is behind the judges, thus ensuring that they can see what they are scoring. By 1700 we have a competition, with two programmes flown at Unlimited. Can we get everybody one flight so we can declare a champion in all classes? Despite a sea-breeze front which brings a line of cloud through the box lowering the visibility and a commercial balloon lurking to the east of the field which defies our attempts to communicate, by 2045 it's in the bag. A magnificent job by all concerned.

Sunday. The slate roof returns. Brief at 0900 and decide a firm cut-off time of 1300. Scrub at 1255 followed by the glittering prizes. Note: Jim Duthie is the best damn launch point controller in the universe ...