Toddlers, tyres and typhoons

This week saw an epic outing which left the Monkey and I a tad tired but it was worth it. On Monday she was invited to little Johnny's birthday trip. I helped out with arrangements and took my allotted gaggle of preschoolers giggling and cavorting up to the runway in convoy behind the first car of tots and a military Land Rover. We had to stop to check tyres for debris before driving on the runway proper, which proved rather fiddly as our tyres with narrow tread held umpteen tiny shards of gravel and the chap escorting us conscientiously felt duty bound to remove them all himself. (I was amused to tell Him Indoors later that his car tyres had been serviced by a Squadron Leader).

Some 25 minutes later we proceeded round the airfield to the hangar housing a typhoon, which in case you don't know is a comparatively small, grey aeroplane with a pointy snout that can travel extremely fast, does almost vertical take-off and makes a LOT of noise whilst doing so. [For example, today I was on the phone and had to stop speaking for some time while a typhoon took off as it was pointless trying to say a word].

It was an interesting experience at the hangar. We went up a steep ladder to have a look in the moderately sized cockpit replete with an abundance of small technical-looking buttons, noting particularly the yellow and black handle between the legs (ejector) and lack of cupholders. Found out that each typhoon carries enough fuel for either 3 and a half hours flying or 12 minutes (!), depending how economically it is flown. Back in the locker room we were shown the pilot's helmet, night-vision goggles and anti-G-Force suit which inflates to counteract the movement of blood away from the head.

At the conclusion of the tour I was pleasantly surprised to find a ladies toilet within the building and further chuffed to be sent away with loads of crisps and chocolate bars ('we are all on a diet you see').

Kelly McGillis eat your heart out.