RogerS: whenever I see your avatar I'm reminded of a memorable encounter I had many years ago with a Vulcan.
My Dad was in the RAF and as a kid I lived on a succession of RAF camps. I lived on a Vulcan base - RAF Waddington - in the early 60s, I can still remember the thrill I had as little kid when the pots and pans in the kitchen used to rattle and the whole house used to shake when a flight of Vulcans took off on a practice scramble. But my most memorable encounter with a Vulcan was in 1969 when I was eighteen.
Dad was posted to Singapore in 1968 and we lived on Changi RAF base for two years. Our bungalow was right on the edge of the airfield at the end of the runway. We could see aeroplanes taxi out and set up ready for takeoff from our sitting-room window. Security was non-existent in those days and we could walk out of our house through some scrub and right onto the perimeter taxiway, a distance of only about a quarter of a mile.
Changi was a very busy airfield in those days with comings and goings all day and many a night. We had all sorts based there; Argosy, Andover, Beverley, Hastings, and C-130 Hercules transports and Avro Shackleton maritime reconnaisance aircraft. In addition many aeroplanes transiting through including Naval Sea Vixen sqaudrons, Canberras, VC-10s, Comets, Victor tankers and occasional fighter squadrons on exercises, including a memorable deployment of the awesome English Electric Lightning interceptor. The VC-10 took off nightly at 7:00pm and conversation was interrupted for a few minutes while it taxied out to the end of the runway and then those four RR Conway turbofans spooled up to full power. It was heaven on earth for a teenager who had been nuts about aeroplanes since before he could walk.
One such deployment was a lone Vulcan which came out for a couple of weeks. One evening I heard it (you couldn't miss it...) doing 'circuits and bumps' - touch-and-go landings. It was dusk and I snuck out of the house and walked down to the end of the runway just as it was completing a circuit. There wasn't a soul about and as it roared off again I crept right onto the airfield and knelt down in a small ditch right on the end of the runway.
Round it came again and screamed over my head at about 20 feet. I lifted my head up over the top of the ditch and VERY rapidly ducked down again because for a split second I was looking straight up the white hot jet pipes and boy... the exhaust was hotter than hell!!
I can't tell you what a thrill that was! I stayed for another couple of circuits, watching it approach and scream over my head and then snuck back home. My heart didn't stop racing for a long time. My ears were ringing for days and I had the smell of kerosene in my nose for ages. I didn't tell my Dad about that for many years - he was the SATCO (Senior Air Traffic Control Officer, it was HIS aerodrome) and he would NOT have been impressed at the time. I did finally tell him, many years later after he was long retired. He laughed, didn't seem too surprised (!) and said I was lucky I didn't get roasted alive