Wolverhampton -> Bournemouth

 The next morning, and feeling chipper and confident, I load up parked at Wolverhampton. The largely clear skies of the flights so far have filled with fluffy cumulous clouds, floating amid a cheery blue sky - perfect Indian Summer weather.

The GPS is programmed to take me south, but first I must make the inevitable pilgrimage every flight simmer must undertake; I will find my house, and the local points of interest.

It's actually easier said than done because the West Midlands is one large conurbation, all the surrounding towns merging seamlessly into the city of Birmingham. But I have an ace card up my navigational sleeve; I live near the tallest hills in the area, right on the south-west tip of the city. And I can already see them!

It's a 10 minute flight, conducted at 500 feet - low enough to make out the patterns of streets and buildings. There's the big M&S - I turn towards my road. And there's the supermarket which means... YES! MY HOUSE! It's really there! And virtually there too!

And the old folk's home at the end of the road. And the trees, where there are actually trees. And the... oh, my garage is a cute little bungalow. That's way better than reality.

Pilgrimage complete, I turn south, and engage the autopilot. It starts trying to kill me by ploughing the plane into a field. I turn off the autopilot, and circle trying to work out what I did wrong. I can't work out what I did wrong. I press random buttons on the perimeter of the LCD screens involved with navigation. I engage autopilot, and this time it brings me round on a southerly course, with the Malvern hills passing the right hand window. I still don't know what I did, but it's working now.

For this flight, I'm trying something different - rather than a direct-line GPS course, I'm going to fly south, then turn left at Cheltenham, checking out the big Donut-shaped GCHQ building, And stumble across a disused airfield which I've not been able to identify.

As I make my way south east of Stonehenge, I notice the clouds are thickening up over towards London, though there's plenty of blue sky for me.

Then Southampton and the Solent are in front of me, and I shut off autopilot to guide the plane to the right, past the coast of the Isle of Wight, and buzz the beach at Bournemouth before pulling back round and coming in to land.