I have another early memory an air display. I travelled to this one in the childs seat on the back of my fathers bike. Both my parents had a seat for I child on the back. Under the delightfully echoing tunnel under the railway in Didcot I hooted like an owl.
As we road across the flat lands towards the airfield there were more bicycles, and even a few cars. But they had stopped along the roadside. There was a black burnt out hulk of a twin engined aircraft in the hedge with the orange tubular windsock on the far side. I can still visualise the windscreen and cabin portholes. People gazed from the roadside. They did not go close.
My parents went on. They were quiet for a while.
At the airfield I was fascinated by ejector seats. A RAF man allowed me to see the ejector seat in a meteor jet, pointing out the operating handle above the pilots heat, and the safety control beneath his seat. Martin-Baker, the manafacturer, had a display of ejector seats in the hanger.
The highlight of the flying display was the display of low level ejection. A two seat meteor jet flew low across the airfield with its rear cockpit open. The man in the rear cockpit waved. The jet returned and the man in the rear cockpit flew out with a bang. His drogue could be seen immediately swinging him round in a summersault. The man came off the seat in the air followed by his unopened parachute. There was a pause as he fell through the air trailing the unfolding parachute. The mushroom shape became visible just before he hit the ground across the airfield.
The crowd cheered and clapped. A military ambulance drove rapidly across the field stopping by the fallen parachute.
We went home. My parents were quiet and did not want to discuss whether you could fit an ejector seat on the back of a bicycle.
In later years I learnt that this was the first attempt to eject from an aircraft at low level. The man who ejected recieved multiple injuries.