"Last weekend, the restored Vulcan bomber, the only one in the world now flying, lumbered slowly and noisily over my house. And I damn nearly wet myself with excitement. I ran around the garden, clutching at my private parts with one hand, pointing with the other and screaming at the top of my lungs for the children to put down their Facebooks so they could see it too.
[...]
I have never been on the flight deck of a big Brit bomber but I have sat at the pointy end of a Blackbird SR-71 and I imagine it’s about the same. Because there are so many dials and knobs, you are constantly reminded that you are in something that’s made from about a million different parts. All of which are operating at the very limit of what 1950s technology allowed. But you can’t crap yourself, because there simply isn’t enough room."