Captain Adrian Thompson gives his personal account of Concorde's historic last flight from Heathrow to New York.

"I climb into my seat for the final flight to New York and feel the familiar frisson of excitement - but it fails to replace the sense of sadness that had descended on me during the drive to Heathrow.

My crew are also uncharacteristically subdued. We start our engines and push back.

Just before we taxi, the whole ramp area bursts into light as all the ramp workers at Terminal Four pay their last tribute to us by lining up each side of the cul-de-sac beside a double line of de-icing trucks with their hydraulic platforms all extended.

They turn the hoses on and we slowly move through a tunnel of spray. I grab the Union Jack flag which had been put on board for the return ceremony, open my window and wave it furiously. Hundreds of people jump up and down and wave back.

Lined up on runway 09R, there were lots of farewell transmissions from Air Traffic Control and other aircraft. After a short speech over the radio thanking everyone, I push the throttles forward.

The engines roar, the afterburners light up and I'm pinned to my seat. All too soon the co-pilot calls 'rotate' and I gently ease her into the air amid thousands of camera flashes. I can make out the shapes of the crowds with faces upturned in awe and hands clamped against ears, but nothing can reduce the earth-shaking noise of the engines. I knew she looked good at night with the white-hot jet plumes from her afterburners clearly visible.

I turn right and head westward. Windsor Castle is lit up in tribute and on the ground not a car is moving. The radar heading that Air Traffic Control has given me looks as though it will take us over my home town of Tadley.

Just before we reach it, I receive clearance to climb and turn. I push the throttles fully forward and point the nose skywards. I'm sorry if I interrupted your TV viewing, but Concorde must say her farewells too!

Abeam Swansea we light her 'burners again and accelerate into the stratosphere, that hostile place that allows nothing but Concorde to enter and which she makes her home. Now flying faster than a bullet, the sun slowly rises above the western horizon in golden majesty and kisses her wings one final time. Few men have seen this, and it's hard not to believe in God when you do.

All too soon it's time for 're-entry'. I hand control over to my co-pilot, who loves to hand-fly the deceleration and descent.

Subsonic now, and much lower, I take over and line up with runway 31R at John F Kennedy airport, her elegant nose pointing at the Empire State Building in the far distance.

Final approach, and we can see the welcoming crowds and helicopters (we were being filmed live for television).

I close her throttles, ease her nose up and the wheels touch - the final landing at New York! We taxi to the stand through the water cannon arch.

I open the window and wave the Union Jack once again. The Americans love it - they understand such gestures.

We park and my engineer shuts the engines down. Eventually, when the last autograph has been signed, I'm left alone on the flightdeck. It's hard to think that I will never sit in this seat again or look through her visor over her long and slender nose. It's almost too much to bear.

Men of vision designed this wonderful machine, men of passion built her, and, I hope that it will be said, men of skill and daring flew her.

To those who never flew Concorde, my commiserations, for you missed out on one of life's great experiences. To those few who have, my heartfelt congratulations, for you truly did 'slip the surly bonds of Earth'.

The gruff voice of my engineer breaks my reverie. 'Come on Adrian. It's all over, mate. You can't take it home with you'.

Much later, as I unpack at home, I unpin the 'Concorde Captain' name-badge from my shirt - a rather cheap plastic square that represents the dreams and ambitions of a young man, and the joys and experiences of a much older one. I wipe away the tear that has fallen on it with my thumb, put it in the drawer, and walk away.

"