"But Sweetie, I couldn't salute you after what happened last night".
My great-uncle, my grandmother's brother, left me an envelope, filled with drawings, from the mid to late 1950s. They're all by an old friend of his, who I know only as 'Cull'.
All I know of Cull is that he worked with my uncle in an Air Ministry drawing office, in Harrogate, North Yorkshire, at that time. The drawings tend to be on the backs of blueprints, no doubt in their time, top secret material. Turn them over, and you find modification details for the wingroot of the Victor bomber, or the English Electric Lightning supersonic interceptor.
I wish I could find 'Cull's' relatives, I think these should really belong to them. Or at the very least they should have copies.
They're snapshots of an age, a little window into the lives of a small group of men with an important but boring job, and one of their number who lightened their days with fantasy and pranks.
To "Cull", then.
