A Gentleman's Domain

Thursday Thirteen #90

After every flight, airline pilots fill out a form called a gripe sheet, which conveys to the mechanics any problems encountered with the aircraft during the flight. The mechanics correct the problem and then respond in writing on the lower half of the form what action was taken. Here are thirteen ACTUAL logged maintenance complaints and problems as submitted by pilots of the Australian airline Qantas and the solution recorded by maintenance engineers.

By the way, Qantas is the only major airline that has never had an accident:

(P = The problem logged by the pilot.)
(S = The solution and action taken by the mechanics.)

P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit.
S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield.
S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet
per minute descent.
S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
S: That's what they're there for.

P: Suspect crack in windshield.
S: Suspect you're right.

P: Number 3 engine missing.
S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny.
S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.
S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

P: Mouse in cockpit.
S: Cat installed.

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Bloody snow!

The view from our bedroom window.

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Prehistoric!

From more innocent times. Or maybe from more harmful times.
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The Bag Has Flown

Here we are in England.  Chilly, and a bit brisk, and perfect weather for bracing country walks, followed by tea and toast when we return to the warmth of my mother’s kitchen.  Next week we will go to town (London).

Last year we came over in late spring.  Fewer thick clothes to pack.  Some of you, my faithful readers, may remember the fun and games we had with missed connections, long stays in unexpected airports, nights in hotels at the airline’s expense and a cumulative delay for over twenty-four hours.  For those of you who missed it, the full story is right here.

Anyway, we crossed the Atlantic again last Thursday night and this time, with three connecting flights, everything went like clockwork. No late flights, no missed connections, not even any dashes through airport terminals to catch planes at the last minute.  We got to Heathrow on time, collected our rental car and were on our way.  Everything went well for us.

Not for our luggage though.  Two of our three checked cases kept us company all the way to London, and they appeared on the carousel after we had been waiting only a few minutes.  Then we waited for the third.  It was one of those black rectangles with wheels and a telescopic handle.  There were dozens of them on the moving belt, but none was ours.  I had taken he precaution of putting a blue and grey luggage strap round it to make it easy to spot among all the others.  However, it wasn’t there to spot.  We waited hopefully until there were just a few bags left, going round and round, and maybe half a dozen passengers. 

I had never had a bag lost before, in over two hundred journeys by commercial airlines. I was rather starting to think that it would never happen to me – only to other people.  Serve me right!  Anyway, I went to the United Airlines baggage desk, which I couldn’t help noticing was very busy, and told one of the clerks that one of our bags was missing.  He took the baggage claim tag for the missing bag, scanned it under his barcode reader and tapped a few details into his computer.  Then he was able to tell me that the bag had been located in Washington airport and would be sent over on the next flight and delivered to where we would be staying. 

United Airlines were as good as their word, and a man in a white van showed up the following afternoon with the bag.  I was grateful, of course, but the thought uppermost in my mind after the whole thing was: barcodes are amazing things!
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Wasting the Court's time!

Someone has been trying to procure a posthumous pardon for Dr.Crippen, as this article describes. That is all very interesting, but the fact remains that Dr. Crippen was guilty as sin.  The remains of Cora Crippen that were found buried in the cellar of the house in Hilldrop Crescent were wrapped in a pajama jacket of a kind that the doctor owned.  They could not have belonged to someone who lived in the house before the Crippens moved there because they were not manufactured before 1905.  The shop that supplied them was able to show the invoice  made out to Crippen for two pairs that were delivered to the house.  And to cap it all, the companion pajama bottoms to the jacket were found by the police neatly folded in  a chest of drawers in Crippen’s bedroom.  The remains were identified as belonging to a woman of early middle age and they bore a scar consistent with a particular surgical procedure, an ovarectomy,  that Cora Crippen had undergone in the US before the Crippens moved to London.  There can be no doubt that the remains in the cellar were hers.

Add to that the circumstantial evidence: Crippen parading his girlfriend in his murdered wife’s jewels and furs, and the way he tried to flee back to America, with his girlfriend disguised as a boy, and his guilt becomes even more obvious.  This bid for a pardon was a complete waste of the Court’s time.

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