seems to be a feeling that a woman preparing to drop in on England, so to speak, ought to have something of a wardrobe.
However, I chose to take with me only what I had on. The men on the Friendship took no "extras." Pounds—even ounces—can count desperately. Obviously I should not load up with unessentials if they didn't.
I'm told it's interesting to know exactly what the outfit included. Just my old flying clothes, comfortably, if not elegantly, battered and worn. High laced boots, brown broadcloth breeks, white silk blouse with a red necktie (rather antiquated!) and a companionably ancient leather coat, rather long, with plenty of pockets and a snug buttoning collar. A homely brown sweater accompanied it. A light leather flying helmet and goggles completed the picture, such as it was. A single elegance was a brown and white silk scarf.
When it was cold I wore—as did the men—a
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