Sadly I have to pass on the news that Flt Lt Peter Jennings died on 1 Jan 2021 after a fairly short illness.   He flew Hunters in 111 Sqn (he took part in the 22 Hunter loop at Farnborough in 1958) and then in RAF Germany (4 Sqn at Jever).   CFS was next at Little Rissington with the likes of Al Pollock, after which he instructed on Jet Provosts at Syerston and Cranwell.   He flew in the Jet Provost aerobatic teams and as individual aerobatics display pilot at both Syerston and Cranwell.

          He left the Royal Air Force in 1966 and obtained his civil licenses, finishing up as a Captain flying 707's for 6 years for a range of UK independent airlines and then, for 17 years, for mainly Middle East-based, airlines, including Olympic, Iranian, TMA (out of Beirut for 8 years throughout the height of the civil war there), Jordanian, and Cyprus.

          Retiring from civil aviation in 1988 Peter joined the "Owls" at Middle Wallop as a Chipmunk instructor on the Army Air Corps Basic Fixed Wing Flight.   He also became a regular member of the "Grey Owls" the Chipmunk formation display team.   Peter finally retired in 1997 along with the rest of the "Owls" when the basic fixed wing contract at Middle Wallop expired.

          In his younger days he was a keen and accomplished athlete (400 metres runner), football player (centre forward), representing stations throughout his RAF career, and the Old E's East Ham; and latterly a very keen golfer.

          Peter had 2 sons, Andrew and Martin by his first marriage to Kathy which sadly finished in divorce and he subsequently married Mary the widow of an ex-student of Peter's who had earlier died in a flying accident.   Mary had a son Martin and a daughter Tanya by her first marriage and Mary and Peter together welcomed the arrival of a daughter, Rebecca.   They have also been blessed with grandchildren.

          Peter was pre-deceased by his elder brother Group Captain John Jennings in 2019.

Eulogy for Peter David Jennings, born St Mary's Hospital Poplar, 18 June 1933

          Thank you for coming, and to those who may be listening in from afar, under these wretched but necessary covid restrictions.   We do plan to hold a proper celebration of Peter's' life, that everyone can attend and enjoy, whenever the circumstances allow.   And thank you to all who have written to Mary and the family expressing condolences, for kind words, and for sharing stories of Peter and why he meant so much.

          I hope you all recognise something of Peter in the following:

          Born in East London, middle child of seven, six boys plus a sister.   Poor Dorothy.   And poor mother.   WW2 evacuee to Weston Super Mare then North Wales then back to wartime London.   He had an eye for mischief from an early age; whilst always playing the innocent.   It was always Frank's fault, dad would have us all believe, that they ended up in trouble; and they were described as "feral" by one of the elder brothers when home on leave from the forces.   One November Dorothy was told to sit in a dark street corner and not move or blink, so Peter and Frank could make some money from her as "Penny for the Guy".   And there is the famous family story when Peter remembered to get the shopping for his mother but "accidentally forgot" his baby brother Tony in the pram outside the Co-op.   Aunty Bec said - where's the baby - "I never had him" innocent as you like, "yes you did" and yes indeed Tony was still in the pram, outside the Co-op...

          He was the only one of the children who used and was good with his hands.   The first sign of which was when as a child he sat on the roof watching the V2 rockets - doodlebugs - hitting London, and carved one from a piece of wood.   He left the grammar school early ("asked to leave", not expelled, he was keen to stress) and onto a 5 years City & Guild carpentry apprenticeship, making him the only one of the sons who came back from work each day with his hands dirty.   While still catching up on plenty of maths and other relevant subjects that he never quite applied himself to, in school.   One of his biggest early achievements was that he built the main wooden entrance doors for a major London church.

          Later as a first tour fighter pilot aged 25, he and Treble 1 Squadron became part of RAF folklore as the Black Arrows who set a world record for most aircraft in a close formation loop.   Later in West Germany, when not flying, training, playing football, or partying, he achieved notoriety for an altogether different reason, he was in the standby NATO fighter response aircraft one fogbound Sunday and nearly started World War Three - when scrambled to take on apparent Russian aircraft heading the attack the West.   The radar signals eventually proved wrong but in the meantime he and his wingman in their fully armed fighter aircraft had been directed by the ground radar too far east, ending up some 30 miles inside East Germany, the wrong side of the Iron Curtain.   Luckily the Russians didn't retaliate...

          Then, after a career flying around the world for over 20 years for airlines in the Med and the Middle East, his flying continued with 9 years as a flying instructor for the Army Air Corps at Middle Wallop, just down the road.   And as one of the Grey Owls aerobatics display team.   He loved it - he could spend lots of time with some of his old RAF mates (talking about flying, or the latest new gadgets); they could only fly if the weather and visibility was good; and on all other days he could go and play golf!   Often he'd buzz our home, or Rebecca and her friends in the village school playground; or the neighbours on dog walks, always with a wide-eyed student on board!

          In all things he seemed to be very confident and capable, no task too difficult, or if it was, he'd come back and try again later.   >And was someone we could all turn to, whatever the problem.   He was interested in, and was good at, a wide range of different things, in sport, and arts, and practical skills.

          He loved sport.   As a young man, athletics and running the 400 yards.   Cycling trips with mates from East London to the South Coast; Cornwall; and South Wales.   And most of all, football, before, during, and after, the RAF.   Typically he missed his pilot interview for British Airways, due to orders to represent the RAF at football on the same day.   After the RAF, many Saturdays driving to East London from Wiltshire to play for the "Old E's" (Old East Ham grammar school).   When Peter was flying for Olympic Airways, aged about 40 and still playing football, the Captain of the Old Easthamians would pick him for the team, Peter would phone him on landing at Heathrow, ask where are we playing today, arrive with his boots and play the match, then drive home to Winterslow.   One of opposition complained once about where he'd had to travel from, to get to the game - the other side of London - to be told, well one of ours has come from Dubai today!   And as an ardent West Ham fan, which he has passed on to Tom and I, he loved going to Wembley to watch them win the FA Cup, where he said hearing 100,000 people singing "Abide With Me" was the most spine-tingling thing he had ever heard.

          And then golf, a member of "the Saddo's" with Dennis and others at High Post; John Simpson and the Below Par Association, and the RAF Aero Golf Society.   Many games, many tours, many trips, and much laughter wherever he went.   As well as real skill and ability.   He told me one of his top personal playing highlights was, on his 84th birthday, becoming one of the very few people to have played a round of golf in fewer shots than their age.   His love of golf clearly rubbed off on Martin B, and the two of them enjoyed many rounds together.   But despite his competitiveness, I suspect he enjoyed the social side at least as much, if not more.

          Playing a musical instrument by ear, was another talent.   Mainly piano (he finally had lessons, although most of the lesson time was spent putting the world to rights rather than actual piano-playing.)   And any excuse to burst into song, often a funny ditty.   He also played the accordion, tried clarinet, even thought about trumpet.   And also enjoyed listening to others, not least Jessica on the cello.

          He and Tanya enjoyed and shared poetry with each other, over the years.   Cryptic crosswords; but only the one in the Daily Telegraph; he also took a course in Ceramic pottery decoration.

          At home, more practically, he could build, mend, improve, extend, or change pretty much anything, whether an extension, a bathroom, or sorting out plumbing, sewage, heating, electrics; and he did like a shed - building them, then filling them with toot; as well as maintaining and repairing cars.

          He was great with animals.   Dogs mainly, but also and even, Becca's cat Dexter (!)   Although back-garden birdwatching was later modified to include taking air rifle pot shots at pigeons from the bathroom window....

          He did like to keep a record of things.   A hangover from RAF flying log books, maybe.   Every oil delivery, volume, and price, meticulously recorded for the last 53 years; and holiday driving journeys undertaken, mileage completed, and fuel bought - all recorded, and going back to 1997.

          He was a constant source of funny stories (and awful jokes).   Stories for any occasion, often flying-related, often with a song thrown in, and usually ending with a punchline - making him the life and soul of any gathering.   Wherever he was sat, there would be the most laughter.   Many were the reunions he attended, when he regaled his RAF mates with funny stories from their times together back in the 50's and 60's and was known to all for his sense of humour and warm jokiness, and as one of the real characters of the group.   In a classic understatement of a 1950's fighter pilot, one of his former pilot mates said he always felt happier for meeting up with dad, and that "Peter J was a good'un".   He was a loyal and close friend to many, and kept those friendships alive.

          Now, there are different sides to everyone, and on the flip side - he did ruin many a good photo by pulling a funny face....   He started more jobs than he ever completed; - and some took a VERY long time to reach completion - the replacement of the front porch was a wedding present promise to Mary 42 years ago.   The new posts were finally fitted some 37 years later.

H          He could also be cussed and grumpy from time to time.   In particular, when it came to dining out.   As John Simpson said, whenever he had a FULL a la Carte menu to choose from, he would be the only one to complain about his selection.   (Clearly too spoiled at home!)He was the only person ever to complain about his ice cream being too cold.   And God help anyone who dished his food up on non-standard plates.   They all had to be round.

          And he did occasionally make mistakes.   Such as when a friend cut his leg after a late night fall during a golf tour, after much drink had been taken, Peter found his first aid kit, cleaned and dressed the wound, and applied germolene, everyone was highly impressed - until they later discovered he had in fact applied colgate toothpaste....

          And he loved a bit of hoarding.   There is an infamous yellow toilet that has spent decades in the loft, offered to, but declined by, many, including this church.   And, several weeks ago, Becca and I were looking for something in his car.   He will have been pleased but unsurprised to know what we found - two duplicate copies of the Times guide to the Golf Courses of Britain; three packs of toothpicks, four bags of sweets, five umbrellas, six pairs of glasses (not that he could ever find any of them), and seven hats!

          The one part of his life yet to be mentioned is his family life.   He was a proud son, brother, husband, father, step-father, uncle, grandparent, godparent and, "honorary parent", to many nephews, nieces and the children of friends.

          He was utterly devoted to Mary, loved her so much, and in the days just before he died, told me in no uncertain terms that she had, quote, "saved him", at a time when he was lost.   For many years he joked about Mary being his glamorous live-in carer; it is true that cooking and cleaning and gardening were not quite his thing.   But he brought so many other qualities and contributions and so much fun to their marriage and their life together.   It was abundantly clear how much they loved each other, and in October last year they celebrated their 42nd wedding anniversary.

          Aside from Martin and I, he supported Martin B and Tanya as though they were his own, and he and Mary then of course had, and love to bits, Rebecca.   He supported Martin J with numerous house-related jobs down in Boscombe; helped Lucy and I to buy our first home; and was the best father in law for Lucy that anyone could ever have wanted.   He loved being a grandparent watching his grandchildren grow up, sharing holidays when they were tiny and then as they grew into young adults; and the recent arrivals of Martin B's children Eli and Sienna continued this theme.   He was proud of all of us in our different ways and achievements.   As well as the achievements of the wider Jennings family.   And to whom, over the years, he repeatedly gave all kinds of support, whenever needed, whether practical, emotional or financial.

          He was in effect an honorary father and granddad to many, and was great with any and all children.

          In summary, he was indeed something of a hero to many of us, young and old; a wonderful, witty, entertaining and loving man, who put so much into life, and got so much out of it.

          He was active all of his life right up to his final few weeks, which is exactly what he would have wanted.   When Lucy had a tyre blow-out just a few hundred yards down the road from here, in the dark - he was straight out, in his coveralls, jacking up the car, checking underneath for damage, and changing the wheel - only after he had finished did Jess suddenly say, "mummy, HOW old is grandad??"   He was 84.   Aged 87, he helped Becca fit a new bathroom last October.   And was still out regularly playing golf late last autumn.   He truly never seemed old, he would still describe himself as middle-aged, and none of us expected that he would so suddenly be gone from our lives.   Loved dearly and now much missed by so many.   He has left a huge hole, for all of us, our lives won't be the same.   The world is a sadder place without you.   We love you, dad.