Shaun Norman – Deception 1967 (Met.), Stonington 1968 (GA), 1969 (GA/BC)
So, in the pleasant summer of 1966, I found myself traversing London twice daily underground, all the way from Brixton to Stanmore in Middlesex. A longish ride on the Northern Line. There, at the Met. Service training school, we estimated cloud heights, dissected complicated skies and learned the ‘Synop’ code – a method of sending weather information by Morse code. We read wind, pressure and humidity gauges and said hello to Stephenson screens and Besson comb nephoscopes. We also learned the art of making hydrogen without blowing ourselves up – and then following the rapidly rising hydrogen balloon with a theodolite to read upper wind speed and direction.
After six classroom weeks we sat our final exams. In the middle of intense silence and concentration on all sides a quiet Scottish brogue intoned: “There’s nae madness in oower family … tiddly diddly dee!” The whole course and the invigilator laughed so hard they just about wet themselves!
We were distributed for three weeks ‘Practical’ to all points of the country. I got foggy Gatwick Airport as an assistant observer and was based in a tiny cabin halfway down the main runway. Aeroplanes flew 24/7 so we did all hours, cursing the fog. At airports, any change in visibility – every time the fog comes and goes – needs a ‘special’ observation. The combination of fog and our proximity to the runway sometimes had us involuntarily ducking for cover when a huge jet, almost landed, misjudged, overshot and poured on the power to go round.
A feature of BAS was the week-long orientation in Cambridge. Whilst the University was down, the ‘Ice Class of 66’ was addressed and impressed. I was lucky to get a room in ancient – well, 16th century – Corpus Christi College. With no tie to wear I was refused entry into the college dining room. I went away and returned with a brilliant red bow tie made from climbing tape. I just made it past the grimacing bursar.
A highlight of our week was an address by Sir Raymond Priestley – little and sprightly in his 80s. He used original lantern slides to show his part of Captain Scott’s 1912 expedition. He was a veritable walking page of history and a hero to us all.
Little did I know it then but in a few years I would land at Cape Adare and spend two raging, stormy weeks where Priestley spent his first Antarctic winter.
Other highlights included a visit to SPRI – Scott Polar Research Institute – and a full check on the numerous student pubs around town.
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