We did consider safety i.e. we had plastic helmets on the sort you get for dressing up as a fireman or builder!   If I close my eyes I can still feel the hot sun on my face and the gorgeous smell of freshly cut grass.  We even had an audience one mum and dad with their young daughter and on the opposite of the hill an elderly lady with an elderly dog.

We mounted the Flyer and discussed our plans.   I was to steer and Ricky was brake man.  Simple!   We started off with a running start similar to down hill bob sledgers.  She gathered speed very quickly, cool air laced with the smell of cut grass flooded our senses.   It bumped and hopped down the steep hill.   I gripped the rope tight, battling with the steering.  We gathered much too much speed!  The band stand was fast approaching and if I managed to steer clear of it the river that lay beyond, I made my second command decision.  I shouted backwards “Brake now! Brake!”  Ricky did as he was told, and the brake lever made of wood snapped clean off in his hand!   I remember looking back at him staring strangely at the detached lever.  So it was up to me now, the pilot.  I tensioned the right hand side rope and we began to turn [some what reminiscent of the Titanic film when they tried to avoid the iceberg!] 

Eventually she began to turn “Come on come on” I shouted.  She did turn, but the Flyer was too long and heavy.  The left hand front wheel lost its solid rubber tyre, the metal rim dug into the soft grass, the Flyer flipped, we all were thrown off!   The cart spun in the air smashing into us several times even smashing my plastic helmet! When we eventually came to a halt, I checked on my crew mates.  They seemed ok, except Stephens hair was decidedly dirty.  The Flyer died a tragic death on its maiden voyage!

Happy happy days of sunshine cut grass and innocence.

Lord Banks