The days blur together. Get up, fill the water bottles. Rig the gliders, fill their tanks. Grid the aircraft, catch the briefing if I can. Wait on the grid to launch the glider. Wait at the camp for the glider to get back. Derig. Tea. No bad weather to break the cycle as I had hoped there would be. Little chance of sightseeing, at least not very far from the airfield.The world is a small place (1). After the briefing, I was walking out to the grid. The others all took the cars and are out there waiting. For some reason I had waited at the camp, but was on my way when a straggler car with two ladies in stops and offers me a lift in German. In my broken German I try to start talking to them. After a while the penny drops with one of them and she turns to me and says “You’re not German are you?”. It turns out they are the Italians. The pilot is Margot. We then drop into a more comfortable English conversation. “Where are you from” etc. When they find out I am from Adelaide Margot says, “say hello to Gabby for me”. I have known Gabby on and off for almost 20 years. Margot has stayed with Gabby and his wife when she was in Australia a few years ago.
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