The English Electric Lightning is the only British designed and built fighter jet ever built capable of speeds in excess of mach 2. In the 19960s, 70s and 80s it was the main strike aircraft of the RAF. Notoriously difficult to fly because of its twin engine ‘on top’ set up its most remarkable feature was an ability to turn vertical flight into horizontal flight almost instantly. I was once on a course at the main Fleet Air Arm base at Lossiemouth Scotland whilst in my final year at school. One morning a pre arranged manoeuvre was set up for a promotional photo shoot. A Lightning came down the main runway at tree top level its twin engines howling. As it drew level with the central control tower the pilot engaged its ‘afterburners’ the jet literally sat on its own tail before shooting skyward at an incredible rate. It was just awe-inspiring. Pilots report flying a Lightning was akin to being strapped to a space rocket.
David Pickavance was a ‘free placer’ at my school courtesy of his achievement in being at the top of rankings in the eleven plus. Maths was his main thing. His father was Italian and David was someone who had a healthy disregard for authority. He was one hundred percent his own man. He was impossibly good looking and always wore the latest fashion. He was a ‘mod’ and wore a Parkha with a fur trim. He was an only child and whilst distant with his father he had a remarkable relationship with his Mum. He told her everything. They would openly discuss any topic without embarrassment-a mile away from my situation. He did not have many friends and as I will explain later we teamed up-I became his wingman. He drove an immaculate Lambretta scooter with great panache. I had a beaten up one that was always letting me down. He took me to rock concerts in Liverpool, his Mum bought the tickets. We saw The Who and The Small Faces and others too. He liked nightclubs and despite being legally too young he would nearly always ‘get us in’.
Now the thing about David was he loved women and oh my goodness how they loved him. He was absolutely convinced that women were fare more keen on sex than most of us at that time believed. As a result he was very direct in his approach. He was sexually active from his early teens and thought absolutely nothing of entering Boots or similar and buying Durex condoms. Likewise he would go in any off-licence and buy his favoured Guinness and cider. If he was turned down because of suspicions of his age he was not phased at all. Off to the next shop he would go and bingo success. I found him fascinating because he would insist on giving me detailed blow by blow of accounts of his ‘experiences’ with women. I was at that time likely to go bright red if a girl even said hello.
I had become friendly with David in unusual circumstances. Back in 1966/7 decimal currency was still in the future. An average haircut was 2 shillings and six pence. Our Headmaster was a stickler for short hair and as a result ‘barber bills’ became an item for families like mine. Near the school was a barber shop called ‘Freds’. Fred had a ‘club foot’ and red hair and peculiar as it might sound Fred would always purposefully knick an ear during the haircut and draw blood. You did not know when it was coming but it always did. Watching customers would grin with glee as Fred struck and a boy yelped. Another feature of Fred’s haircut was he would enquire in a stage whisper ‘Anything for the weekend sir?’ of his youthful customers. This comment was linked to the fact that in those days barbers sold condoms. Most boys/youths found this experience almost as embarrassing as the nicked ear but not David Pickavance. ‘Yes please’ he would say ‘a packet of three!’
Now many would ask why on earth people went to Freds given his inclination to wound and embarrass. Well the reason was his haircuts cost 1 shilling and 9 pence a huge saving of 9 pence over the standard rate. Mum would give me 2 and 6 and I would have the 9 pence change.
David saw an opportunity and went to the library to look into the skills of barbering and haircutting. I was his victim and model and I would go to his house in Upton on The Wirral. He would wrap me in a sheet and for over an hour he would snip and snip and work out how to cut hair. The first few attempts were not very good but over time he honestly got quite good. David then broadcasted his skills at school and every break time and lunch time in the changing room by the school gym David set up shop. He charged 1 shilling and six pence -a further threepence saving. He attracted quite a long list of customers. No member of staff ever found out and David’s social life went up a further gear as he had plenty of money to finance his fun. We drifted apart in our final year in school as he was way too busy collecting conquests. He was always happy to help others and he would score all the local girl’s schools for the attractiveness of their pupils and for him, the most important thing, their willingness to please. Holt Hill Convent was his favourite I seem to remember.
Any way after school David’s mathematical aptitude gained him a place at Imperial College London to read engineering. I never saw him again but many years later I learned that David had joined the RAF and had become a Squadron Leader. His squadron flew Lightnings.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 