Largie Castle, A Rifled Nest Day 33

I hankered after punting students, dons on dilapidated bikes, honeyed stone archways, in fact anything philosophical and forgetful

From Winchester I bussed to Oxford, where Angus attended university. I wanted to take a look at Magdalen, his old college and whatever else was relevant to his Oxford days. I drove from the outskirts over Magdalen bridge to the historic part of the city.

Here was the enclave of the elite; in my uncle’s day they belonged to a hereditary social elect, whereas today their status is due to a meritocracy.

Amid these biscuit-coloured buildings, Britain’s future winners cavort. Oxford is not for also-rans. Only the best jostle here.

As a Scot, used to plainer structures, I marvelled at the spires that appeared to leap, vault and dance in the sky.

At the end of the High Street the bus turned left past colleges, each hiding its beauty behind a dignified street facade. At the terminus on the less prepossessing side of the city, I set off for Falklands House on Oxpens Road, the home of the Oxford University Air Squadron.

I would leave the treat of Magdalen, its chapel, quad and river walk for later.

Accolades

Like my father, who was an undergraduate at Cambridge University, my uncle learned to fly because it was the ‘in thing’.

Privileged young men and women flew. There were records to break and mountains to soar over (the Marquess of Clydesdale in an open cockpit biplane was to fly over Everest in 1933 achieving similar accolades to astronauts a generation later). Flying was glamorous, daring, fast and sexy.

In the same year Angus joined the Oxford University Air Squadron, Sir Alan Cobham, one-time member of the Royal Flying Corps in the First World War, staged air displays with trained pilots in a variety of aircraft.

Cobham’s aerobatic stunts, when he and his colleagues put their aeroplanes into vertical lateral rolls and spins, were known as Cobham’s Flying Circus and they toured the country until the end of 1935, visiting airfields and any patch of ground that could be landed on.

Sir Hugh Trenchard, Marshal of the RAF, had the idea of starting air squadrons in universities. Founded on October 1 1925, Cambridge was the first, followed by Oxford 11 days later.

The idea was to promote an interest, not only in flying but to forge an affiliation with the universities on aviation technology. Angus joined on October 14 1932 at the beginning of his second year.

On a more pragmatic note, university air squadrons offered training at government expense.

It was an attractive proposition learning to fly for free as, unlike most Magdalen men who dined well, drank to excess and owned a car, Angus was on a modest allowance.

After John’s death, Daisy sold most of the family heirlooms and the north part of the Largie estate to pay for death duties. Thereafter, money for the family was tight.

In Avro 504K aircraft, members of the Air Squadron flew, both in vacation and term-time, from an airfield near Bicester at Upper Heyford, a picturesque village of Cotswold stone cottages, surrounded by arable and grazing farmland.

Used since the 1920s as an RAF base with a runway, once the second longest in Europe, the airbase is now abandoned.

Functional

Falklands House is a functional structure with security gates, where visitors announce their arrival through an intercom.

I hankered after punting students, dons on dilapidated bikes, honeyed stone archways, in fact anything philosophical and forgetful but I was in Falklands House now, the name plunging me back to the time when Margaret Thatcher ruled the waves, at least in the South Atlantic.

“I only have the essentials like your uncle’s entry date, his attendance at a summer camp in 1933, his address and that he was killed during the Second World War.” Dick Stanton, the adjutant was apologetic.

I already knew from his army service records that Angus had a pilot’s licence (category “A”) with 90 hours flying, including 35 hours solo.

“We have a photograph of him at the 1933 summer camp.” I peered at the picture and quickly found him in the back row, instantly recognisable because of his superior height.

Behind a front line of seated instructors in RAF uniform, was a group of students in casual wear: blazers, flannel trousers, shirts and ties, assembled beneath the wing of an aeroplane.

This was the first image I’d seen of Angus as an Oxford undergraduate and I felt a similar thrill to the day before, when Suzanne Foster showed me his schoolboy photos.

At 16, he was quite tall and struck a pose. The following year (possibly because of his illness) he appeared startled and ill-at-ease.

At 18 years and about to leave for Magdalen, he was a prefect and, although not looking entirely easy within himself, he still displayed a sense of accomplishment.

Most intriguing, was the length of Angus’s hair: at Win Coll, it was short with a side parting but at Magdalen he let it grow. Having shed his schoolboy diffidence, Angus looked happier at Oxford.

Evidently, he had no wish to fly professionally. Aeroplanes and long hair were one thing but when it came to a job he had to be ‘down to Earth’ and shorn.

Touch of humour

One perk of joining the university air squadron and gaining a pilot’s licence was flying solo.

As soon as Angus acquired his certificate he took off in a plane from Upper Heyford and flew to Largie, landing at Killean, situated a few miles south of the castle.

The late Ian Macdonald, a young neighbour at Largie and Winnie Bird (daughter of Ronald Reid, the gamekeeper), remember the occasion and how Reid added a touch of humour by writing in the estate game book that ‘a large bird flew over; an aeroplane!’

At that period, private flights in small aeroplanes were the vogue. People paid to view their homes from the air.

Just as tea flights offered for a couple of pounds a view of London, Angus flew Kintyre residents up the coast from Killean to Rhunahaorine for five shillings (25p).

Ian Macdonald watched from the ground. “I would have gone up like a shot if I had had the money!” he said. “But the well-off farmers went instead!”

More tomorrow