10,000 Competition Winner Claims PrizeDavid Evans and his wife Ann, seen today claiming his prize as Thanet Life's 10,000 visitor last week.
Dave who, describes his experience below, has never been in a light aircraft before, was given the controls of the aircraft and a short flying lesson and then taken on an aerial trip of Thanet. His home in Kingsgate, Broadstairs was photographed, before flying back towards Whitstable and Herne Bay, returning to land on what was arguably the first day of summer, with temperatures in the mid-twenties Celsius.
I should add that I don't recognise the character of the pilot in his account of the flight!"
On a wing and a prayerThanet Life prize winner Dave Evans takes to the skiesCome fly with me, teased Thanet Life, and all I had to do was check the counter at the bottom to see if it had rolled past the 10,000 visitor.
First to email the editor that I won.
A few days later and - lo and behold! - I was on my way to the tiny Maypole airfield near Hoath as confirmed winner of the competition, and about to take a trip around the island in a two-seater Cessna as prize.
Now, it has to be said, I've seen the world a bit - from the States to Russia, from Korea to Africa - and generally I have no qualms about flying.
But there's something about climbing into the cockpit of what vaguely resembles a flying milk float, knowing little about the pilot except he's about to take you for an uncharted sortie along the coastline in what could be a kamikaze mission, that makes you start thinking of emergency drills.
You know the sort of thing: put your head between your legs and kiss your "gluteus maximus" goodbye.
As it turns out Dr Simon Moores, pilot and aforementioned editor of Thanet Life, has a touch of the Indiana Jones about him - former technology advisor to Tony Blair, expert on the Middle East and given to gruelling foot runs across the Sahara, he has a handshake like a vice and which, had it been any lower, would have given me three Adam's Apples.
Minutes later and I'm strapped liked a turkey in the Cessna, headphones sprouting from my ears, and we're rattling down the Maypole's grass runway heading for the Big Blue Yonder. As part of the prize I've also been given a bottle of bubbly which, I can't help but think, might end up as the last thing I ever, desperately, gulp. Either that or the English channel.
But by now the patchwork quilt of Thanet is below, a maze of green and brown with the odd patch of bright yellow rape seed, and in the distance the towers of Reculver and the sea.
It's a dreamy vista and one that makes you wonder why Thanet Council in its infinite wisdom, does so little to promote the glories of the island and, when it does, gets it so wrong - like blowing millions on a Margate art gallery-cum-turnip few locals want; giving a clandestine offshore company the rights to ruin Ramsgate seafront, and renovating a fake Viking longboat at a further plunderous cost to the ratepayer.
But my thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Simon addressing me in the headset: "
Want to have a go at the controls?" he asks cheerily, though I can scarcely believe my ears. "
Just tap the paddles if you want to go right or left, stick near the coast and try not to go into a lethal nosedive.."Me? Pilot? Biggles I ain't and suddenly all my earlier fears about plunging to my death Icarus-style come rushing back.
But then, as Simon goes on to explain, the Cessna more or less flies itself apart from the occasional spot of correction.
And he's right. Like a pet labrador being taken out along the beach, the plane lollops along happily by itself and only needs the odd, light pull on its leash to prevent it getting up to mischief. A little tap on the paddles here, a small tilt to the joystick there, and the Cessna is as well trained as a guide dog.
It's now 20 minutes into the trip and the other purpose of the prize - to take an aerial photo of my Kingsgate pad - hoves into view.

Simon opens up the window and there's a woosh as he circles lower over the bay, zoom camera at the ready. He hands back the controls to me - "just keep her straight and steady while I bang off some snaps," he instructs.
Damn right I will. Not only do I not want to chew dirt, but also I don't want the ignominy of dying while simultaneously reducing my own home to a rubble. Nor do I know which of the two disasters would upset the wife more, though I have my suspicions..
To make matters worse there's Manston air control now on the radio, warning that an EUJet Fokker is in the vicinity.
My immediate thought is to bark back - "
Well get the Fokker out of here!" - but, again, Indiana Jones has everything under smooth control.
Finally, it's time to head back to Maypole.
Botany Bay, Margate, Birchington and the peversely-named Wantsum Walk (at about two miles long, you must obviously want some!) all slowly come into view, before we ultimately arrive at Herne Bay and lean left for the descent back at Maypole. Ahead of us is a 1930's classic Stampe bi-plane whose pilot graciously allows us to land first as he continues to cartwheel in the sun, happy as Larry.
He follows us in a few seconds later and, as the engines of both aircraft are cut, a silence again descends on the Maypole meadow where you can barely hear a pin drop.
It's an experience that could give you a passion for flying. Besides, I might just cut a dash in a Biggles helmet after all..
There's a short slide photo show of Dave's flight
HERE.