Unbeknownst to myself my presence was required at work some 30 minutes before I had planned to arrive. When informed, I ditched my trusty steed and hopped a cab where 40 of Beijing finest little emperors were waiting. I thought little of my late arrival, and the stress that it caused until about 40 mins into the journey when I realised the strict timeframe to which one should adhere when transporting the newly nappiless. The sight by the side of the road was not dissimlar to the Edinburgh Shinty team on the way home from Oban following an effluently strict two-stop strategy.
The Aviation Museum itself is impressive, highly militaristic and well worth the visit. My teaching assistant pointed to a picture of fighter jet and asked me if that was how I flew home. Kindly I pointed to a boeing and said that while it was somewhat slower, the difference in the g-forces was kinder to my skintone.
While one is keen to explain the ins and outs of the world as best one can to those that are set to inherit it, one cannot help but be hesitant at the prospect of describing the singular functuality of the vast majority of military aircraft on display. I cannot help but think that many that are fascinated by the military machine are rather to far removed from the reality of war to have an objective opinion. I recall a school trip to a PLA camp when I felt it necessary to sit on the bus rather than pose with kalashnikovs with my school mates having each unleashed five rounds of andrei's finest down a shooting range. Was it the fact that I recall traffic being directed by soldiers with M-16's in sunny Belfast, or that I feared for the sanity of some of my classmates, but I didn't trust the casual nature of our instructors to be of sufficient protection should someone choose to let their five rounds fly in another direction.
Thankfully the kids weren't that interested, and I still have no need to learn the Chinese for gun, bomb or missile.
The Aviation Museum itself is impressive, highly militaristic and well worth the visit. My teaching assistant pointed to a picture of fighter jet and asked me if that was how I flew home. Kindly I pointed to a boeing and said that while it was somewhat slower, the difference in the g-forces was kinder to my skintone.
While one is keen to explain the ins and outs of the world as best one can to those that are set to inherit it, one cannot help but be hesitant at the prospect of describing the singular functuality of the vast majority of military aircraft on display. I cannot help but think that many that are fascinated by the military machine are rather to far removed from the reality of war to have an objective opinion. I recall a school trip to a PLA camp when I felt it necessary to sit on the bus rather than pose with kalashnikovs with my school mates having each unleashed five rounds of andrei's finest down a shooting range. Was it the fact that I recall traffic being directed by soldiers with M-16's in sunny Belfast, or that I feared for the sanity of some of my classmates, but I didn't trust the casual nature of our instructors to be of sufficient protection should someone choose to let their five rounds fly in another direction.
Thankfully the kids weren't that interested, and I still have no need to learn the Chinese for gun, bomb or missile.
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