Jules Gull

I grew up as an air force kid; my father was in the RAAF for 25 years. I always remember the uniform, the RAAF Christmas parties, the long postings away from family and the photograph of the Hercules flying over the Sydney Harbour Bridge that is still hanging in our family lounge-room. Santa would arrive in a helicopter to the Christmas parties, giving dolls to the girls and a model aircraft kit to the boys.I would spend the rest of the day trying to swap my doll of an aircraft, which was unsuccessful and the day generally ended with me in tears.  My Father was issued with some RAAF aviator sunglasses; at the age of seven, I would borrow (without his permission) the sunglasses. There was a disused and rusted steel frame that resembled a helicopter frame in my friend’s paddock. My friends and I would throw one of our Teddy’s into the grass, and jump onto the chopper frame, we would yell ‘where are the robbers Skip’. As I was wearing dads RAAF sunglasses, I was always Jerry the helicopter pilot. Dad’s glasses were secretly returned before he got home from the base. I never thought that it would be possible for me to learn how to fly even though I have been intrigued for many years, life and responsibility takes over.