Vampire in the Back Garden

My back garden, at the old house, used to run for some 100 feet from the french doors of the sitting room up to the back fence boundary.

When we first moved in, now unbelievably, 22 years ago it was quite productive and ordered. The previous owner, an ex RAF man had it set out a bit like an airfield. From the house you stepped down onto a hardstanding apron, not unlike that found under the landing gear of a parked plane. The lawn was long, flat and nicely trimmed with a paver strip and, if squinted at, it did resemble a runway. Even the garage was a bit Ministry of Defence, particularly in its allegiance to that wonder material of asbestos cement sheeting which now instills alternate bouts of panic and indifference on the public at large. The summerhouse would easily double up as a control tower or operations centre and the greenhouse, well, it was just a greenhouse and the analogy stops at that.

I have, in the course of my work, made an informal study of what people have established or keep in their back gardens. If it is indeed true that an Englishmans' Home is his castle, then the front garden would be the moat and outer defences and the back garden would be an inner sanctum for peaceful contemplation and tranquility.

Continuing the RAF theme I was amazed to find, in the back garden of a house in a nearby town, the fuselage of a De Haviland Vampire jet.

The name may not be widely recognised but the design with its distinctive twin boom would be remembered from childhood trips to airshows, I Spy spotting books and grainy black and white celebratory TV programmes on British achievements with early forms of jet propulsion.

The prototypes were actually commissioned in the early years of the second world war but were slow to progress because of other priority projects in conventional fighter and bomber aircraft by De Haviland and the sister product of the Meteor jet. It was eventually brought into service in 1946 and over 3000 aircraft were built.

As with most national treasures and once great things the plane in question found its way onto E-Bay.


The houseowner with the aircraft in his garden was most proud of his acquisition, having been a plane spotter in his youth and on the basis of rarity and novelty value now. His excitement over knowing where, possibly,  to get hold of the twin fuselage and tail was unrestrained. What next ? The engine and armaments?

The fuselage was surprisingly intact  and quite well preserved indicating a cossetted indoor life and not one under a pile of scrap, out in a field or amongst farm animals. The distinctive roundel in red, white and blue was discernible along with the RAF practice of giving everything a label, carefully painted via a stencil as though an aide memoir to 'The idiots guide to on how to fly'.

Under the smoked glass bubble canopy of the cockpit was the ejector seat, hopefully disconnected from a propulsive charge to prevent nasty surprises, and the full array of instruments and controls.

I could imagine my host sneaking out under cover of darkness to assume the role of pilot with accompanying noises and a lot of saliva spray on the head-up display.

The logistics of delivering the partial plane to the back garden had involved a disproportionate cost to the actual E Bay bid price.

The conditions of sale in stating - buyer to collect and transport- may have looked innocent enough and not unduly worrying as an add on cost but when researched to the extent of hiring a low loader with crane, building a crate around the remains of the crate and then creating a major traffic incident over a Bank Holiday weekend I am not surprised that every house in the UK does not have the same ornamental item.

The house, detached, on a normal residential street, had about a metre clearance each side.

The fuselage required the services of another crane to lift it over the roof and lower it carefully into the back garden. In the absence of two thirds of the landing gear, only a tail mounted wheel existed in the absence of the otherwise wing mounted stabiliser wheels, a cradle had to be fashioned out of scaffolding trestles on a firm paver base to support the bulbous body.

The resting place had to be as perfectly permanent as possible because of the prohibitive costs involved in any subsequent change of mind. I was not sure what the neighbours thought about it. The Council had not thought it necessary to take any enforcement action. Perhaps aircraft in back gardens were a grey area in Planning and Environmental Health.

I did stand and marvel at this wonderful Boys Toy. I doubted if I could persuade my wife to let me have one.

The owner did admit to me that his impulsive purchase had caused some friction in his relationship with his partner but this he had skillfully mitigated by allowing her to use the cockpit as an impromptu hot house in which she could cultivate her own collection of household herbs , exotic (for East Yorkshire) chilli peppers and courgettes for which she was well known in gardening circles.

Reproduced from 2011- version 4