I was out on the bike today and parked up at the end of the runway at RAF Brize Norton. Ya sits there for five minutes; a set of nearby traffic lights turn red to hold back the traffic, then a Tristar full of armed troops whacks over your head ten metres off the deck and lands in front of you. All quite potty.

While I'm recovering my hearing and trying not to be sick with the huge noise, some sort of hopped up black jet fighter touches down, then takes off again without stopping. Meantime the sky is full of helicopters. The planes are all kitted out for air-to-air refuelling, with odd looking sticky-out bits you don't get on the civvy aircraft.

I'll try and grab some pix tomorrow. Last day of my cycling holiday. Should make a nice pootle.