Remember engine runups before take-off?...relying on the curvature of the earth to get airborne?...and having four engines to cross the pond because you normally arrived with only three still working?

The USA woke up to this fact a while ago (1990) with its advanced qualification programme, but not all carriers choose to use it. Now Europe has it, and it's called the Advanced Training and Qualification Programme (ATQP). Swiss and SAS have begun using it, and now the Nigels [sardonic collective noun for British Airways pilots] are kick-starting it in the UK. According to BA's training manager Keith Dyce there has been "no negative feedback" after some 50 Boeing 777 crews have led the way into the new recurrent training regime.

So what has changed? The exercises that have to be statutorily trained and tested are only run once a year, leaving more time on the six-monthly recurrent simulator sessions for the crews to be given practice at the type of exercises that operational flight data monitoring indicates they need to polish up.

Wouldn't we all like to know what Nigel's not good at?

Unfortunately Keith wouldn't be highly specific when asked for examples, but he did say that half of all the training involves manual flying, including things like pure visual approaches and circling to land.

It's been a while since I've sat behind some hardworking Nigels in a 747 sim at Cranebank, but last time I did we all more or less knew the three-engine ILS approach was going to end in a late go-around, and the drill was that everything would stay on automatic. Manual reversion was only for when the automatics failed or tripped out.

Thank God it's changing. The one thing that Keith did volunteer was that, because this training is aimed at equipping pilots to handle non-normal situations, but not necessarily the abstruse sequence of multiple technical failures designed to see if the pilot was a real man (even if she was a woman), crews are much less likely to be able to guess what's coming.

How refreshing.

The Air Canada Boeing 767 skipper turns up on time, but his first officer's positioning flight delivers him late and acting nervously. In the interests of setting up a harmonious flight the captain tells the first officer to meet him at the aeroplane, and not to worry because everything is done.

The flight leaves Toronto on schedule for Heathrow, where the weather is forecast to be Category IIIB autoland conditions.

Cruising at FL360, the first officer's demeanour goes gradually downhill, despite organised rest periods that the commander sets up to help him recover, until the captain is so concerned he calls the cabin crew to help the copilot out of his seat.

The crew finds medical expertise on board to attend to the copilot. Meanwhile the captain asks them to check the manifest for off-duty or positioning pilots, but there are none. One of the stewardesses, however, has a CPL with an non-current IR, so the skipper co-opts her to help manage flight deck tasks from the right hand seat. His comments indicate she was a real asset.

Because he doesn't fancy facing Heathrow at Cat III with less than a full crew, the skipper diverts to Shannon where the weather is good, and sets up medical help for the first officer on arrival.

The landing is fine, and the copilot is met by medical specialists and taken to hospital.

Recognising "subtle incapacitation" is important, but sometimes it's recognised too late and has caused accidents and serious incidents. This was a model piece of CRM in all respects.

Now neither of these solutions to Heathrow's dire capacity problems are quite so assured. What does that feel like to an airline like United (to pick just one carrier at random) which has paid as much as  £30 million for an additional take-off/landing slot there?

So what has changed?

No new arguments have been advanced by any party, political or otherwise, but some significant political realignment has taken place.

On 11 November, by coincidence, there were two separate debates on closely related subjects: a parliamentary debate on the third runway issue, and simultaneously a debate at the UK Royal Aeronautical Society on whether the third Heathrow runway was the capacity solution for the UK's south-east, or whether - alternatively - the country should finally take up an idea already rejected three times over a period of nearly 40 years: building a completely new airport in the Thames estuary area.

Not at either of the debates was a single absolutely original idea advanced. All the arguments about all the options for all airport solutions have been rehearsed a thousand times.  

But the Conservative Party which, if current voter polls are to believed, will be in government by 2010 at the latest, has recently decided to oppose the third runway. It also says that if the present government gives the runway the go-ahead in a month's time, will reverse that decision when/if it gets elected. The Conservatives' solution is to build a network of high speed rail services that would eliminate the need for domestic slots at Heathow. But the party doesn't put a date on achievement of this monumental project, nor address funding.

The effect of this policy realignment by the Conservatives - including London's new mayor Boris Johnson - has been to galvanise the already formidable but disparate opposition to the third runway, giving them a banner to follow. Meanwhile Johnson has commissioned his own study into siting a new airport in the Thames estuary.

Only time will now tell whether the formidable - and so far highly effective - lobbying by the business and financial institutions in favour of expanding Heathrow can overcome a re-invigorated, previously scattered set of opposition groups.

This is a bit of a nightmare for UK plc, because nobody in any group denies Heathrow is essential to the national economy, but nobody loves it either. Not any more they don't, because of its congestion-related vulnerability to delay and inability to meet demand. Basically, back in 1962 it was realised that London and the South East needed a decent airport, and Heathrow was not it. A four-runway Stansted was the answer, the inquiry decided. But that was shelved. In the 1980s that prospect was revisited, approved and shelved again. Meanwhile there have been three Thames estuary sites examined and rejected: Foulness, Maplin Sands, and - since 2000 - Cliffe.

This is the story of Britain and its politics: make do and mend. Grand strategy is not on the menu - ever.

So what's really going to happen? Based on history and my reading of UK political behaviour, there will almost certainly be - you guessed it - more "make do and mend".

Stansted will get its government-approved second runway following a planning inquiry that is not able to stop it. Heathrow will get its third runway because, although it is environmentally the most inappropriate option available, all the governments since 1962 have failed to take strategic decisions, leaving any government in power right now or in the near future, no alternative except to approve it, or to see the UK's economy seriously "changed", which most businesses today would translate as "damaged". Then, some time after 2020, Gatwick will get a second runway also.

Why not the estuary airport or high-speed railway network? Because they'll take too long to deliver even if they were to work, and the latter is not a foregone conclusion. The best hope for the environment is that the high speed rail network will develop in parallel with the enlarged existing airports, but as someone at the RAeS debate said, the estuary idea is "a dead duck". The coastal area is a massive haven for migratory birds, which provides  environmentalists with powerful ammunition to deploy against the project, and the birdstrike risk would be a disaster for aviation safety.

It certainly did. The gory evidence that the aircraft hit a flock of birds is all over the nose cone and wing leading edges.

Birdstrike alone is not an explanation of  the outcome, it's a statement of circumstances that definitely had a bearing on what happened. If his account is accurate, a clear description by a passenger of the aircraft pulling up followed by a rapid drop to hit the runway hard may be an indication that the captain tried to avoid the flock, but hit many birds just the same.

The late sighting of a flock of birds followed by a multiple birdstrike affecting both engines would have been a major distraction to the crew during a critical part of the final approach. New photographs of the aircraft's underside show that, on touchdown, the aircraft suffered a substantial tailstrike.

That, and the failure of the left main gear, indicates that the pilots were trying to arrest a very high sink rate when touchdown took place.

The new pictures clarify the situation the pilots faced, so although the following may seem like semantics, here's some contextual information about Ryanair standard operating procedures: the carrrier has strict instructions to its pilots that, if their approach is not stablised by 500ft (152m) on final approach they are to go around. But a birdstrike to both engines would have forced them to abandon any attempt at a go-around even if they were unhappy with their approach profile, fearing that demanding power from damaged engines would be the greater risk.

I have been to Ryanair's pilot selection and training base and seen the way the airline works there. Its selection standards are high, the simulator test for aspiring pilots consists of flying a demanding pattern on raw instruments, during which crew resource management skills are closely observed.

Ryanair may be a low-fare carrier, but where crew training and engineering/maintenance are concerned it does not cut corners.  

Boeing has provided one little boost for that theory (I would argue it's a fact), having carried out a simple but devilishly clever series of simulator-based tests. They were designed to find out whether providing pilots with upset recovery training actually makes a positive difference to their performance when they are faced with recovering the aircraft from extreme attitudes by sole reference to instruments.

Boeing found it does, but that's not the main point of this little piece.

The reason for carrying out the tests is that loss of control (LOC) accidents now kill more airline passengers and crews than any other category of serious mishap, including controlled flight into terrain.

The Boeing test provided each of 30 or so pilots with three attitudes to recover from, and unfroze the 737 simulator just before they were allowed to look up and manoeuvre the aircraft to straight and level at a safe speed. Scoring was done by subtracting marks from the "perfect" score of ten for mistakes, omissions, and exceedences. The manufacturer did this to all the pilots before upset recovery training, and then again after it. The average "before" score was 5, the average "after" score was 8.

Maybe you would think that pilots with a military fastjet background, or aerobatic training, would be best, at least in the "before" session.

Wrong!

The only pilot who got three perfect tens was a low-hour pilot with purely civil training and no aerobatic experience. But his basic training was recent, his age way below the average for the group, and his discipline clearly good.

In fact, Boeing observed - although it was not the primary purpose of the exercise to find this out - there was no apparent correlation between individual scores and the pilots' backgrounds or experience levels.

I suppose you want to know what "extreme attitudes" the pilots were faced with?

Well, the first was 40deg nose-high, zero bank, 190kt with autothrottle engaged.

The second was 25deg nose-low at 60deg bank.

The third was 25deg nose-low with 120deg bank.

So, Capt Top Gun, you think you can handle the situation because once, long ago, you used to be able to?

Don't bet on it! After years of autopilot with bank angles rarely exceeding 25deg, maybe you've forgotten the routine. Most of these pilots had. Some scored zero. 

But it was worth being there for the 2008 Flight Safety Foundation International Aviation Safety Seminar (IASS). The IASS never fails to provide the latest thinking on how operators of all kinds can manage risk better.

Anyway I digress. One of the incidental delights of being at the IASS, which is held jointly with IATA and the International Federation of Airworthiness, is that you meet a lot of quality aviation people. I know name-droppers are ghastly, but I've got photographic proof of the quality of some of the people who will actually talk to me, and just wanted to show off a bit.

Aviation legends don't come any bigger than Don Bateman (left) and Joe Sutter (right).

Yes, that's me in the middle, and I don't make any claims except to have been around aviation for a long enough time to get to enjoy the company of people like this.

Joe, for those who are unforgiveably ignorant enough not to know, was the chief engineer on Boeing's 747 programme and is usually referred to as "the father of the 747".

Don is Honeywell International's chief engineer, and was the inventor, when at Sundstrand, of the ground proximity warning system, followed by that massive leap in aviation safety technology, the Honeywell enhanced GPWS, generically known as a terrain awareness warning system (TAWS).

Either of those achievements is enough for one lifetime, but both of them keep on improving their inventions to this day.

If I look as happy as a pig in sh*t, it's because I was.

Ground fire, including small arms fire, caused a fuel tank explosion that blew off the outboard 7m of the starboard wing.

At the end of last year the RAF Board of Inquiry published a report that looked into all the issues surrounding the event, and it contained this bland statement of what the crew faced:

"The Board concluded that the aircraft only flew for 12-15 sec after the explosion, which strongly implies the crew had little, if any, control over the aircraft, and no time for anything other than an instinctive piloting reaction."

It stated the crash occurred partly because the wing tanks were not protected from explosion by an inerting system (since then the fleet has been protected thus), but also because the crew was flying low in daylight and they had not been provided with the latest available intelligence about where enemy deployments could be expected.

The coroner's report has mostly served to confirm points recognised by the Board. The coroner said:

"Very sadly I don't think this inquest can determine [that] if [fuel tank inerting] had been fitted the ten who died would have survived the attack. What it can determine is that the explosion that led to the wing breaking in two would not have occurred, because there would have been no explosion. The ten who died had just lost their opportunity for survival."

In other words, the aircraft's track had been anticipated by the enemy, the crew had not been given the information to avoid them, and even if the fuel tank had not been ignited by that particular projectile, within the next few minutes plenty more stuff would have been thrown at them, and they might not have survived it.

Not long after this attack I attended the LXX Squadron 90th anniversary celebration at the RAF's main Hercules base, RAF Lyneham, and wrote about it. As usual with military men, the subject of the loss was discussed briefly, but then it was back to the party.  

Flying helicopters is difficult. The tasks they are asked to perform are those which no other transport mode could carry out. Helicopters are so expensive to operate they are only called out when nothing else can do the job.

The Morecambe Bay report is one of the first serious accident reports to be published since the International Helicopter Safety Seminar (IHSS) was held in Montreal in 2005, and it is certainly the first to recognise the significance of the strategies for the future of global helicopter safety that emerged from that seminal meeting.

The UK Air Accident Investigation Branch (AAIB) report confirms that the IHSS's offshoot, the Joint Helicopter Safety Analysis Team (JHSAT), got it right when it said that most helicopter accidents are caused by "pilot judgement and actions", because this one certainly was. But thankfully the report doesn't blame the pilots. It asks why helicopter pilots make the mistakes they do.

It's simple, stoopid! Let's revert to the first paragraph in this blog: "Flying helicopters is difficult. The tasks they are asked to perform are those which no other transport mode could carry out. They are so expensive to operate they are only called out when nothing else can do the job."

And has the helicopter industry really looked at this issue, or just assumed that unsatisfactory global helicopter accident rates that have failed to improve even slightly over more than 20y were just an immutable law of nature? Well, that's the way it has been until now.

That assumption remained unchallenged until the International Helicopter Safety Team (IHST), the JHSAT, and now the AAIB, came on board. Now the helicopter operating industry is being encouraged to change old attitudes.

The crewmen who died in Morecambe Bay were good pilots, but they hadn't been comprehensively trained for their job. They had been trained according to existing regulations and existing practices by their employer, CHC, which is the world's biggest helicopter operator and which has, by global industry standards, a superb safety record. But, although this crew could have been prepared on a flight simulator for the demands they faced that night, they had not been. It was not a requirement.

It's the accepted practices, accepted cultures, and existing regulations about helicopter operations that need to be radically reviewed. Thankfully, the IHST, the JHSAT, and now the AAIB, are finally questioning them. 

Europe's largest regional carrier has just finished training 21 cabin crew, and the airline has won recognition under the UK's national vocational qualifications system for the professional skills they have learned.

So what?

Surely that makes their skills transferable to other carriers who then wouldn't have to train them except in type differences?

Yup!

It doesn't seem to bother Flybe that Ryanair's Michael O'Leary, who requires his cabin crew to pay for their own training and uniforms, might see this as a gift.

Flybe's director of safety, quality and training Simon Witts says it's good for cabin crew morale to have their professional skills recognised and increases their pride in what they do. If he's right, I don't see many of them jumping ship to a carrier with a somewhat different relationship with its onboard crews.

Good cabin crew need a wide array of skills: first class communication for everything from customer care to emergency drills; the use of emergency equipment; first aid skills to levels close to those required of a paramedic; managing onboard equipment from firefighting kit to portable oxygen units; health and safety practises in an aircraft environment; security procedures; hygeine; and finally customer service and the galley.

Meanwhile Flybe is taking on engineering apprentices who will, after their time at college and working in the airline's hangars, start at about £30,000 a year as 21-year-old licensed aircraft engineers. Before the LAE was just a licence, if a respected one. This course will be modular with academic recognition for professional skills gained.

It's much the same, at present, to have a pilot licence. The licence is respected, but the skills and knowledge gained in order to obtain one are not recognised in the UK as academic or professional modules, or even collectively as a degree, or a degree equivalent. The learning list is longer than that for cabin crew: the rules of the air; aerodynamics; aircraft systems; aircraft engines; navigation; aviation meteorology; radio telephony; air traffic control, crew resource management, and the effects of the aviation environment on human physiology. And all of those require an underlying good general education, especially in the sciences.

At present, institutions like London's City University run specialist courses like a BSc in Air Transport Operations, which bolts a pilot licence onto a degree course, preparing a student well for a career as a management pilot.

Meanwhile the learning and skills components of the pilot licence courses taken at flight training organisations are not, at present, recognised as transferable skills. Flybe's Witts says the company is looking at the possibility of changing this situation, maybe as it works with Flight Training Europe and the Civil Aviation Authority to construct the UK's first multic-crew pilot licence (MPL) course starting in February. Flybe has already been designated a qualifications awarding body, so it could bring in some seriously positive changes for the way in which pilot qualifications are gained and viewed. 

Okay, you might reasonably say.

Unless you knew it was one of those minute devices for tightening the tiny hinge screws in a pair of reading spectacles. It was exactly an inch (24mm) long, plastic-handled, and the metal part measured about a quarter of an inch.

The confiscated screwdriver was smaller than this one.

I remonstrated cheerfully with the security staff about what kind of threat I could constitute, armed with this tiny instrument. The response was equally cheerful but resigned: screwdrivers not permitted.

It was summarily dumped into the box containing a mass of pretty harmless domestic items.

Being a front-line airport security team member cannot be much fun. You are as much loved by your "victims" as a traffic warden, and you know it - and frequently get told it. The job is repetitive, poorly paid, and operatives are given no credit for having any intelligence.

If they were credited with intelligence they would, during their training, be provided with sufficient knowledge to enable them to use their discretion as to whether a device could realistically be used to create a threat - or even a nuisance - on an aircraft.

Being treated as if you have no intelligence gives you no incentive to act intelligently. In fact it gives you no incentive to do your job. I had taken the same screwdriver through Heathrow and other airports countless times before somebody saw it. Does that represent a failure of security? Answers on a postcard, please (or click to respond to this blog).

When they nicked the screwdriver, here's what they missed: dental floss (for garotting cabin crew); laptop power cable (same purpose); slender metal ball-point pen (as good as a screwdriver for threatening people).

And, of course, the passenger encounters the ultimate proof of what a charade the overall security policy for airports is once he/she gets airside. You can buy a large glass bottle of duty-free liquor to carry with you. Large glass bottles, as members of street gangs know, when broken are truly fearsome weapons.

But who cares about that threat to the cabin crew and other passengers?

The duplicity of the policymaking government departments who know this full well is absolutely breathtaking. But somehow they remain completely unaccountable.

Apparently helicopters are just as - if not more - prone to PIOs than fixed wing aircraft, and it happened to be at a rotary wing forum that I gained some intriguing psychological insight into what makes even test pilots over-control. I find myself perversely pleased at the thought that test pilots struggle with flying sometimes, like the rest of us.

I was in Liverpool a week or so ago. No, not cruising down Penny Lane on the Magical Mystery Tour double-decker bus inspired by an intra-aural infusion of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. I was attending the Royal Aeronautical Society's 34th European Rotorcraft Forum, a conference top-heavy with rotary wing science and academia and rather light on helicopter manufacturers and operators.

But I still understood some of it. I think.

Especially when, among equations heavy with Greek alphabetical symbols, one lecturer provided the audience with an analogy I understood: what makes you get into the cycling equivalent of PIOs when riding a bike (I have blogged on the humble bike's connection with aviation before).

Back to rotary wing and PIOs. Picture a helicopter pilot flying a satellite guided precision approach, with the trajectory presented to him, on his LCD primary flight display, as a perspective of a generously proportioned rectangular "tunnel in the sky" leading to the landing site.

There's plenty of space in this tunnel, and the pilot flies down the middle of it without a twitch.

All you have to do to induce PIOs, according to experiment, is to make the "tunnel" narrow and shallow - to crowd the boundaries in on him.

The academics have a name for what's going on. When a pilot is flying a profile that doesn't put him under stress he follows a process they call "point tracking". He aims his aircraft where he wants to go, and goes there smoothly. If, on the other hand, he's given very close lateral and vertical boundaries, he stops "point tracking" and starts "boundary avoidance"; he keeps twitching away from the boundaries and ends up in a PIO. Even test pilots do this, I am delighted to hear.

The bike analogy is simple. You can easily cycle in a pretty straight line along the road and need little lateral space for your track. But if you were riding along the top of a wall, even a low one, suddenly you would stop unconsciously aiming your bike steadily at a constantly receding point ahead and start twitching frantically to avoid the edges.

Easy to understand, isn't it? Sometimes, something you've known instinctively all your life - but didn't bother to rationalise - gets explained to you.  But you still can't cycle along a wall without twitching. 

For the un-initiated it's a UK based regional airline that is now Europe's largest.

It breaks all the rules and makes money doing it when no-one else seems to be able to. It's increasing its profits when everyone else is seeing reductions or actual losses.

Which rules does it break? Well, it flies lots of turboprops (aah! turboprops - Bombardier Dash 8 Q400s to be precise)...

Where it needs jets, it's building its fleet of Embraer 195s. No wonder it  is less worried about fuel prices than the rest with a fleet mix like that.

It flies out of airports in the UK that no-one else could make work for them, and which foreigners would never have heard of until FlyBe took them there direct.

If you overlay a map with all its routes from all its UK bases they form such a tight web they blot out almost all of the UK's coastline except Scotland's, and you can see practically none of northern Europe's coast either.

It has consistently hired ab-initio trainee airline pilots for years, and now, when all the others have stopped hiring anyone but a few direct-entry type-rated crew, it has just announced it is going to be the force behind the UK's first MPL (multi-crew pilot licence) course.

Denmark's Sterling Airlines and the Center Air Pilot Academy had recently created the world's first MPL line pilots but, with horrifying irony, the carrier had to make them redundant in less than a year despite their first class performance, because it was forced to close unprofitable routes and shed pilots on the traditional last-in, first-out basis. 

FlyBe is a little ray of sunshine in an almost universally gloomy air transport industry.

At Flight International's Crew Management Conference, the debate about the MPL versus the CPL will be examined from the airline's point of view by three different presenters.  

When a specific government decides on a course of action that is a fundamentally bad idea, and the proposed policy is also part of an established behaviour pattern that everyone associates with it, I suppose any opinion against the proposal is going to sound party-political.

Here we go then: the UK government is going to tax use of the aviation and marine radio spectrums for the first time in history. Or at least it will if it is not persuaded to think again by highly cogent argument in sufficient volume from the industry and elsewhere before the comment deadline on 30 October.

The particular behaviour pattern that everybody in the UK associates with the present Labour government led by prime minister Gordon Brown - and before him by Tony Blair with Brown at his side as chancellor of the exchequer - is the application of "stealth taxes". The UK Office of Communications (OFCOM), a government agency, says it is not proposing a tax on aviation's radio spectrum use, but a charge called an "administered incentive pricing" (AIP) scheme. To quote the Association of European Airlines' secretary general Ulrich Schulte-Strathaus, "an AIP is a euphemism for a tax". He argues that the money will disappear anonymously into government coffers and not be used to benefit aviation or research into improved spectrum use.

The radio spectrums affected for aviation include the frequencies allocated for HF, VHF and UHF radio communications by airlines, general aviation and the military; radar surveillance by airports, air navigation service providers and military aviation, navigation aids from Loran to the instrument landing system, and datalink communications ranging from automatic dependent surveillance - broadcast (ADS-B) to airborne collision avoidance systems (ACAS) and controller-pilot datalink communications (CPDLC).

OFCOM argues that "AIP is intended to apply market disciplines to the holding and use of spectrum rights, by requiring users to consider their spectrum needs in light of the AIP fees payable."

But why do other countries not choose to charge for these safety-sensitive services? 

Never mind, maybe we don't need to worry because OFCOM says: "We are inviting views on whether charities whose objective is the safety of human life in an emergency should receive a discount." Yes, but it's still a charge, and the government's coffers still benefit.

When I spoke to OFCOM they used, as a justification for extending spectrum charges to aviation and marine operations, the fact that the police and ambulance services already pay an AIP for them. That's not a justification, it's an indictment of the system. They should not be paying an AIP - the charge should be removed.

Those who use the spectrum directly for commercial purposes, like the television, radio, and telecommunications industries, should rightly be charged. Those who use it purely for ensuring safety should not.

The whole issue smells of stealth taxes, greed and immorality, and instinctively makes me wonder what service they will hit next with a money-grabbing scheme.  

After all, like most big jets of its generation, the 777 has had a pretty trouble-free history since service entry in 1995, and aviation is now such a mature industry that, surely, there are few surprises left for the operator or air traveller? 

But the Heathrow accident has provided some surprises. The UK Air Accident Investigation Branch's latest interim report says ice particles in the fuel system is the only likely cause of this event, and adds that the behaviour of water in fuel below certain temperatures that are regularly experienced is an unknown quantity. The Branch explains: "When the fuel temperature reduces to approximately ‑18°C (0°F), the ice crystals adhere to each other and become larger. Below this temperature little is known about the properties of ice crystals in fuel and further research may be required to enable the aviation industry to more fully understand this behaviour." The fuel in G-YMMM's tanks was -22degC on the fateful final approach.

So what is the risk that an event like this will recur, perhaps with a much worse outcome? If the fuel supply restriction that caused G-YMMM to crash-land just inside Heathrow's boundary had occurred 30 seconds earlier, the aircraft might have hit a light industrial site and crossed two busy roads before coming to rest.

That said, there is a fair amount of evidence in the AAIB's latest interim report to show that the risk is very low and could be lowered further by the use of ice-inhibiting fuel additives widely used in military aviation. The report narrative confirms that, since every component in the aircraft's fuel system and in the engines is known beyond doubt to have performed as it should have done in terms of functionality, and that "waxing" of the fuel at that temperature would not have been an issue, ice particles or crystals clogging the fuel system is the only explanation for what happened.

Why it occurred on this and not on other flights is not yet completely clear, but it seems likely to have been the particular combination of a long fuel tank cold-soak at lower than usual temperatures, combined with an extended period of commanded low fuel flow until high power was demanded just before the unwanted power reduction on final approach.

Working with Boeing, the AAIB was able to mine data from 13,000 Rolls-Royce-powered 777 flights. Among these, they found 118 flights during which the fuel temperature profile for the whole flight was at or below that for G-YMMM's final trip, and others in which the fuel flows demanded were close to the profile for this flight, yet they did not experience any problems with fuel supply to the engines.

Because there was no fuel supply system component malfunction in G-YMMM, one of the AAIB's recommendations is: "The Federal Aviation Administration and the European Aviation Safety Agency should take immediate action to consider the implications of the findings of this investigation on other certificated airframe / engine combinations." That means everything flying, not just 777s.

Meanwhile it has taken 17.5 million flying hours and 3.9 million flights by all 777s for this one event to occur. Specifically for Trent 800-powered Boeing 777 s, they have flown 6.5 million hours and 1.4 million flights.

So all but exceptionally nervous fliers should be able to feel safe in the 777.

The immediate task, following an accident, is to determine whether there is - or even might be - useful advice that should be disseminated to the operators of the type of aircraft that crashed. It's not necessary to be absolutely certain of facts before advising operators to check a component or a procedure if a risk might exist.

The Spanair Boeing MD-82 accident at Madrid is one of those for which the number of plausible causes is almost infinite, given the very sparse data being made available by the investigators. We have been told the aircraft got airborne, but clearly it was unable to stay airborne, and it impacted the ground with a very high nose-up attitude.

At this point, therefore, because of the lack of information provided, intelligent speculation about the possible causes by experts and interested parties - like MD-80 operators - can still include the following: incorrect take-off configuration; de-rated power selected despite Madrid's density altitude at the time and a tailwind of 9kt during the take-off run; incorrect speeds calculated or set;  engine failure or of loss of power; uncommanded thrust reverser deployment. Then there are all the potential combinations.

Two days ago Spanish investigators returned from their visit to the UK Air Accident Investigation Branch with the downloaded data in their possession. It is in their power by now, surely, at least to rule out some of that list, even if they are hesitant, at this point, about postulating the primary factors they believe might have contributed.

Accident investigators are public servants. They are paid by the public to serve the public. The information they hold does not belong to them, it belongs to the public. The public is not so stupid it would fail to understand information - even incomplete information - if it were provided.

One of the main problems here, as in most of the world's countries, is that the investigators are taking second place to the judiciary in the investigation, and lawyers do not seek knowledge with the aim of preventing a recurrence of this type of accident; they seek evidence to use to prosecute individuals. Hence the silence, and the lack of information provided to MD-80 operators who need it.