AJD is one of a handful of companies that are capable of turning out WW1 replicas genuinely indistinguishable from the originals. Tony's firm has done much to bring 1914-18 aeroplanes before a wider public. Less well-known is his more recent venture, Hawker Restorations, a company set up expressly to rebuild the lovable (but oh so complicated) Hawker Hurricane. Here too he is now looking forward to yet another project, one that he anticipates will inject new life into club flying, involving as it does a combination of exciting machinery and his own idea of how aviation really should be fun.

It is not surprising to discover that Tony Ditheridge is a total aviation enthusiast, nor that he is a keen and experienced pilot. He can talk all day about aeroplanes and pilots with both insight and wit and not lose your interest for so much as a second. But the funny thing is that his flying career was sparked off comparatively late in life by a television programme and his two aviation businesses, their premises overflowing with a museum's worth of artefacts from Vickers guns to works drawings, have only grown up in the last ten years.

Flying was probably far from his mind when Tony left school at fifteen, in 1963, to join Cambridge Scientific Instruments as an apprentice instrument-maker. There he learned his basic engineering skills, and found his feet when the company became increasingly involved with electronics, ending up working on servicing and sales of electron microscopes. As his experience of these highly specialised and very expensive instruments grew, he realised there was a wider business potential beyond the confines of CSI, and in 1975 he struck out on his own.

Tony's company, Exposem, did well enough for him to indulge his enthusiasm for old cars. He had owned an MG TC which he supercharged with half a mind to circuit racing, had built a replica D-type Jaguar, and was just about to close the deal on a vintage one-litre Aston when he saw a television programme on the 1980 Moth Rally at Woburn. This was to send his life in pursuit of a different obsession.

"My father was in the RAF and I had built model aeroplanes so I was not entirely unaware of flying, but this programme just caught my imagination and I thought, 'I must have one of those!'. I mentioned this to the Aston-owner, who was an airline pilot in the States, and it turned out that he had a Tiger Moth himself, which he flew very little. He readily agreed to switch the deal, and instead of the Aston I got the Tiger in a packing case and several thousand dollars change!"

After assembling and rigging the Tiger Moth at Little Gransden, with Len Jefferies' help, Tony launched into flying lessons with Normal Whisler, who was perhaps the ideal mentor as he had war-time instructing experience on Tigers and Stearmans. Tony nearly made it, but the perfection of this admirable, classical, tailwheel introduction to flight was interrupted by an interlude with tin tricycles when he took it upon himself to finish off his PPL in a hurry using a hired Cessna 150.

His true passion for vintage aviation nevertheless shone through and, following his PPL and a flirtation with an Archer, his flying came to centre on the Tiger Moth and a number of increasingly aerobatic successors. He worked his way through several Stampes, including Neil Williams' old 'IJ, and then as his enthusiasm for aerobatics grew- went on to own various Pittses, a Stearman, and today, a famous Bucker Jungmeister - Arthur Benitz original factory demonstrator.

Right from the start Tony's flying was done for the fun of it; although he has long owned the right sort of machinery, there never seems to have been any intention on his part to take aerobatics seriously and compete. Indeed, he is modest about his piloting abilities and will cheerfully relate stories which other, more egocentric pilots might have chosen to have 'forgotten' to save embarrassment. For example, he recalls the time he was flying a newly-purchased L-4 Cub back to his strip in a very strong headwind, so strong that he switched over to his wing-tank just as he arrived home, ensuring he wouldn't run low on fuel in the circuit. Within an instant of turning the fuel cock, the engine stopped and the Cub became a glider.

"I ended up touching down in a ploughed field just off the strip. The door was open and I just caught sight of the wheel sinking in before up came the tail and over she went. I walked over to the house and was just telling my wife that I was OK when something yellow flashed passed the window; the Cub cartwheeling across the field! It ended up impaled in a tree. When we took the carb apart it was full of bits of aluminium. We found more on the ground where the wing tank had spilled whilst it was inverted. Someone had failed to make sure the tank was clean before it was installed!!

Tony's involvement with aircraft construction began with his friendship with Desmond St. Cyrien and really took off when that wonderful flying pirate Jeff Hawke became involved. St Cyrien was a great Sopwith enthusiast and had recovered two Pups and a Camel from a farm in Lincoln. (Had he made an offer, he might have got the two Bristol Fighters they were interned with. Returning to collect the Sopwiths, he just saw the last pieces going on a bonfire.) St Cyrien had struck up a cosy relationship with British Caledonian's workshops, but this vital source of free-of-charge restoration work was killed stone dead by unromantic British Airways' managers when Caledonian fell prey to a takeover.

Tony was persuaded that two of the key engineers at Caledonian (Graham Self and Richard Watson) might be relocated to Suffolk to join him in working on a Stearman which he had already started, as well as completing the St Cyrien airframes. It was thus that Tony's interests diversified into aircraft rebuilding in a serious way - and AJD Engineering was formed. Tony, Graham and Richard knew they wanted to work on Great War aircraft, but had no real contact with any likely customer. It was a stroke of good fortune that Hawke came up with a Chilean Air Force Museum commission for a replica WW1-vintage Bristol M.1C, just when an order was needed.

As it turned out, the Chilean Bristol (built in less than five months) rapidly established AJD's credentials and was soon followed by orders from that country for other replicas: a Bleriot, an AVRO 504K and an SE4a. In all cases original drawings and photographs were sought to ensure that machines were built in the same way as the originals. Such was their quality that orders have continued to flow in, and many more have been built since, the AVRO 504 becoming something of a specialite de la maison.

"I call our aircraft 'replicas' because they are indistinguishable from the originals, right to the last nut and bolt. They are a contrast to what I would call 'facsimiles', the aircraft that look like the real thing, but use quick and cheap-to-build steel tube fuselages, modern engines and sometimes even have modified airfoil sections."

In setting out his stall so, Tony is not denigrating others' efforts (he is one of those rare fellows who just do not run other people down), he is just putting forward the reason why his aeroplanes - and those of only a couple of other firms in the country - set incredible standards in authenticity. You don't have to take his word for it. In taking a walk around AJD's premises, evidence of the care taken is quite over-whelming. In the case of the 1914-18 aeroplanes, the wooden structure is not only correct but is even stamped with part numbers and inspection marks, and it is painstakingly shellacked too, rather than being finished with a modern varnish. The linen covering is also applied exactly as it used to be, complete with hand-frayed tapes. Genuine instruments and guns are fitted, and every bit of lettering and stencilling, from 'Palmer Aero Cord Tyre' to the fuselage or fin serial number is exactly right in size and style.

Once their engines have run and sprayed their only signature, the finished aeroplanes have a wonderful feel and presence that makes them something quite special. Granted, they might have no history, but AJD's replicas are so good that if you whizzed back in a time machine and grabbed Mr. Roe, or Mr. Follard or even the most keen-eyed and specialist shop-floor worker, and brought them back to the present day, they simply wouldn't be able to tell whether what they saw before them was a product of their own hands or not. Genuine First World War aeroplanes are rare enough (and many have been repaired and restored so many times that there is little of the original left). If they can be recreated now using the same materials and techniques that were used when the designer was alive, then surely what is built is just as much the real thing, the expression of the designer's intellect, as a factory-built original?

Since 1984 AJD have built thirteen or so aircraft of the 1914-18 period, and are currently working on two further AVRO 504s, both to be flyers, as well as a Spad XIII restoration for an American collector. Tony has only flown one of the Avros himself, but his contact with those who have piloted his many rebuilds and replicas puts him in an authoritative position to talk about the handling qualities of the aircraft of that era. "There was a great variation in how pleasant aircraft were to fly then, even amongst types from one manufacturer. Stuart Goldspink, our test pilot, tells me that the Sopwith Pup is delightful, whilst the Camel is 'interesting' - but not as bad as some people would lead you to expect." (Stuart's reported comments on the contemporary Nieuport 28, vary between 'very interesting' and 'absolutely indescribable', which is Goldspink-speak for something like 'vibrates so much that you cannot read the instruments and is well beyond the average pilot to get down in one piece'.)

Tony continues: "I understand that the Spad is a scary aeroplane. It sinks very rapidly in the glide and is tail-heavy too; but at the other end of the scale, the AVRO 504 is a delight. The C of G comes out in the right place and it will fly hands-off. With the special large-diameter prop Hoffman made for us, the Warner-engined one we've just built leaps off the ground in fifty yards, has a damn good climb rate and cruises quite fast too. The overall control co-ordination is very nice, even if the forces are a little heavier than, say, a Tiger Moth. Today the AVRO would be a lovely aeroplane to learn to fly on." In fact, at a price comparable with many new singles, an AJD 504 wouldn't even be too expensive to think of as a trainer, but more of that later...."

Tonys' experience with First World War aeroplanes naturally led to an interest in the similar, between-wars biplanes - and thus to the Hawker Hurricane, very much a Fury biplane with one wing. Five years ago, with derelict airframes becoming available, he looked into taking on a Hurricane rebuild. With AJD's expertise in metallurgy and airframe construction such a thing looked possible, but financing such a venture would have been beyond Tony's means. "So we backed off, but not before I'd gone into how we'd go about doing the job, making new parts and so on. Structurally, the Hurricane is very much a wooden aircraft made in metal. Hawkers just substituted round tubes, squared at the ends, for the old wooden longerons and uprights, and riveted or bolted them together using plates. They even retained the old idea of internal bracing wires. The structure was a simple progression from what they had done before and suited the skills of their labour force. It had the appeal to us of being a step that it would be just as easy to make for AJD today, as it was for Hawker in the early thirties."

A Hurricane restoration might have just remained a dream for Tony had not another of aviation's great characters, Sir Tim Wallis appeared at just the right time. Wallis had acquired two Russian Hurricanes, and by the end of 1993 was looking for someone to undertake the massive task of restoring one of these corroded wrecks to airworthy condition, so that a Hurricane would be displayed in his New Zealand-based Alpine Fighter Collection. When they met, AJD's experience and Tony's knowledge of the problems to be overcome won Sir Tim over and, as a result, Tony formed a new firm, Hawker Restorations.

With the prospect of three airframes being built, one for the Alpine Collection, one for Hawker Restorations themselves and one 'spare', the manufacture of many vital but long out-of-production parts became economically viable. This last factor was crucial to the restoration of Hurricanes at anything like a reasonable price, for although the airframe is an evolution of wire-braced wooden aircraft going back to the dawn of aviation, it is incredibly complicated in its structural detail.

"The Hurricane is so over-engineered it is almost unbelievable," says Tony. "For example, in one particular fuselage joint alone there are 186 components. We reckon that the same joint in a Fokker welded-tube structure would have perhaps nine parts in all! In its complexity the Hurricane is the epitome of British aircraft engineering; beautifully made and overdone in every detail, but you do have to ask if it performed any better as a result. I must admit that the number of bullet holes we found in the Russian ones show how much punishment they'd take, but if you go and look at the Messerschmitt 109F outside and then look at our Hurricane you wonder how many 109s you could have built in the time one Hurricane took!" (BAE's 1990 booklet Hurricane: Clouded by Legend states that the Hurricane took an average of 10,300 man-hours to build and the Spitfire 15,200. Several other British manufacturers used the Hurricane's fiendish fuselage structure too – think of the Fairey Swordfish and Westland Wallace; but it seems curious that Camm and Hawker did not go for the type of welded space-frame that served both Fokker and the contemporary Russian manufacturers so well. Perhaps welding required more skilled labour, but maybe Camm's own attitude played its part. As a designer in WW1 he had reportedly found little merit in Fokker's constructional methods, although most would now recognise them as being farsighted. Even BAE's booklet describes Camm's character as 'an odd mixture of arrogance and diffidence'.)

Most pressing amongst the problems Tony had to deal with for Hawker Restorations was the need to obtain centre-section and tailplane spar material. The Hurricane spar uses a pair of tubular booms connected by a sheet metal web which, in the case of the centre section, is stiffened with top-hat-section stiffeners. So far so simple, but the booms are not just any old tubes; at their strongest point they consist of a pair of nested steel tubes wrapped in a lamination of two open twelve-sided rolled high-tensile steel sections, closed by riveting through the spar web. The resulting structure is very strong for its weight, but is also highly prone to corrosion damage. Inevitably it has to be replaced during the restoration of any airframe that has not been most exceptionally cared for during the 50 years since the Hurricane was built.

Like so many recovered wrecks, Tim Wallis' ex-Russian machines were hardly examples of the fruit of years of tender loving care, so new parts were vital; but the odd tube sizes used and the twelve- or eight-sided (tailplane) rolled sections were unavailable, as was the web material. Tony's response was to have new stocks made, but he had to spread the net world-wide in finding manufacturers capable of producing the items. An American specialist firm provided the spar webs (the 300-ton quenching press originally used having long ago gone to the scrap man in this country); a French firm made the tubular rivets; and in the final irony, a German steel mill made the steel strip for the multi-sided open tube sections (although the shape-rolling was done in Britain).

Getting the special sections made called for a combination of engineering knowledge and business acumen, plus, one suspects, a deal of persistence. It is a measure of Tony's ability in these areas that Hawker Restorations' efforts have been remarkably quick appearing in the metal, despite the many problems in turning what was essentially five tea-chests full of near junk into an as-new airframe.

Work on Tim Wallis' Hurricane was started in April 1994, and it was handed over on 25 August this year, albeit uncovered and yet to be fitted out (in New Zealand) with its systems and instruments. The restoration was planned from the outset as a joint effort with Air New Zealand Engineering; in order to dovetail with their engineering standards, Hawker Restorations have obtained not only CAA A8-20 'warbird' maintenance approval but E2 and E4 as well, which allows them to manufacture components, provide design support and issue Permits. This makes them unique amongst small restoration firms (AJD and its sister company only consists of eight people) and is yet another impressive achievement in its own right.

Having broken the back of the job, Tony's great hope is that the Hurricane will catch on as a popular vintage fighter now that complete rebuilds are possible. "There are plenty of Hurricane remains out there, and historically they've had low value because there didn't used to be a lot you could do with them. Now that we can put them together properly for people, the aeroplane has very real advantages. Flying examples are currently few and far between - so they have rarity value - and yet the Hurricane is an easy aeroplane to fly and is very safe. It has a wide undercarriage track and is essentially a short-field machine. You can jump into one after flying a Tiger or Stearman and go aviating, which is just what they did during the war - without busting their necks. Even George Bulman, Hawker's Chief Test Pilot, thought the Hurricane was a pussycat. There is a very funny picture of him flying the prototype in a trilby hat 'just to show how easy the new fighter was to fly'.

Parked beside Hawker Restorations' premises by the moat of Tony's house is his Sukhoi Su-29. This aeroplane looks set to be part of his next plan (to call any of Tony's ideas a dream seems inappropriate; he is one of those people who not only talks, but has a way of making things happen that puts most of us dreamers in the shade). What he has in mind is a sort of super flying club cum grown men's toy collection, to be based at Earls Colne, an airfield that already has extensive leisure facilities beyond mere aviation. The idea is to allow paying members to get their hands on a progression of increasingly hairy aeroplanes from Tigers through the Sukhoi to a Yak-11, or perhaps even a two-seat Spitfire, and match this with club-type surroundings and a bar to retire to in the evenings.

In many ways this would be an encapsulation of Tony's cheery 'mine's a pint' approach to life; there is a touch of the fifties Grand Prix driver about him, a zest untrammelled by political correctness, but this is tempered with a generosity that the racing drivers perhaps never had. Life could do with a few more nice men like Tony Ditheridge.