I’m really really sorry that I was constantly bugging you before my last flight. I’m sorry that I phoned you no less than 4 times in the space of an hour or so. I apologise for the fact that it got to the point where you recognised my voice.
I got really nervous about the reports of freezing drizzle, you see and despite the fact that I’ve been at this flying lark for a while now, this is really the first winter where the responsibility for making the weather call has fallen to me.
Ice on the ground frightens me; the thought of it in the air terrifies me. I’ve never had to deal with icing and quite frankly I never want to. I lacked experience to make a judgement and was really relying on your expertise.
I’m sorry that the one thing I wanted from you was, of course, the one thing you couldn’t give. You can give me the numbers, interpret the forecast for me but I know the one thing you can’t do is make that decision for me. I have to make my own call.
I was very grateful though when you told me that we’d sent the freezing rain to Quebec for the French to deal with.
Thank you and sorry for bugging you.