My father was an immigration officer at London Heathrow and worked at “North Terminal”. I would sometimes meet him from work. He knew a lot of the aircrew, who at that time seemed impossibly glamorous with designer quasi military uniforms. I remember the huts of the terminal being like “Nissan huts, with curved roofs and blinking coloured lights to show the way to the gate. The aeroplanes would taxi right up to the terminal building only a few feet away. Passengers would alight down towed- up steps and walk to the terminal escorted by glamorous model like stewardesses. There were burgundy twisted velvet ropes and chrome stands acting as the “gate” -almost like the posh cinemas of the West End at the time. I remember seeing Lockheed Constellations and the pride of Britain turbo-prop Britannia planes.
As schoolboys a favourite day out was to catch the 285 red route master from Kingston and travel right into the heart of the airport to the “viewing gallery” at the Queens Building at the centre of the airport. Innocent days predating the security now demanded. It was so glamorous before the days of mass tourism when for most a holiday was a coach trip to the British seaside or perhaps Butlins.
I have a photo of my grandparents at Heathrow in the early 1950s- there are tents in the background! They were making their first ever flight, going to visit their GI Bride daughter in Ohio.
My father was an immigration officer at London Heathrow and worked at “North Terminal”. I would sometimes meet him from work. He knew a lot of the aircrew, who at that time seemed impossibly glamorous with designer quasi military uniforms. I remember the huts of the terminal being like “Nissan huts, with curved roofs and blinking coloured lights to show the way to the gate. The aeroplanes would taxi right up to the terminal building only a few feet away. Passengers would alight down towed- up steps and walk to the terminal escorted by glamorous model like stewardesses. There were burgundy twisted velvet ropes and chrome stands acting as the “gate” -almost like the posh cinemas of the West End at the time. I remember seeing Lockheed Constellations and the pride of Britain turbo-prop Britannia planes.
As schoolboys a favourite day out was to catch the 285 red route master from Kingston and travel right into the heart of the airport to the “viewing gallery” at the Queens Building at the centre of the airport. Innocent days predating the security now demanded. It was so glamorous before the days of mass tourism when for most a holiday was a coach trip to the British seaside or perhaps Butlins.
I have a photo of my grandparents at Heathrow in the early 1950s- there are tents in the background! They were making their first ever flight, going to visit their GI Bride daughter in Ohio.
So why do we still call it "Heathrow" when, officially, it is "London Airport"?
It was officially called London Airport at first (in the timeframe of the article), but it was changed to Heathrow Airport in 1966.