B's preschool class visited the Manchester Airport Runway Visitor Park, and in my newfound state of leisure I went with them. I was assigned two girls to mind in addition to B. The children kept up an uninterrupted stream of high volume chatter throughout the twenty minute ride. "We're going to the Airport! Hi car! There's Tesco! Ahhhhh! That's where I take swimming lessons! Sheep sheep sheep! Ahhhhhh! I can open the front door by myself! I can pour a glass of milk! We're on the bus!". All caps could not begin to convey the cacaphony.

On arrival there was the lengthy process of getting everyone in and out of the bathroom. We had been warned of wet weather, so one of my charges was decked out in a waterproof jumpsuit over her uniform. I let the teachers handle that when it was her turn. We ate our lunches at picnic tables under tents by the runway. There had been a lot of discussion in the WhatsApp group about what to pack for lunch, and some of the kids had enough snacks to get them through a nonstop flight to Sydney. Repeated communications from the school have said that candy, chocolate, cookies, and chips (our chips) are not allowed. My kids insist that I am the only parent who actually follows this rule. Mixed bag based on my observation. None of the other mothers seemed to be eating. I'd given half my sandwich to B because his water bottle had leaked and made his into a soggy mush, which I'd thought quite heroic of me, but there was no way I was going to get through the day without some nourishment even if I had to push aside thoughts of all the sneezing and worse going on. Playground time! Each kid ran in a different direction. The mothers chatted as best we could while squinting over each other's shoulders counting our charges.

After play time, we were met by the retired flight attendant and engineer who would be our guides. They showed us an RAF plane, but I was taking a kid to the bathroom for most of that so all I heard about was the black box which isn't actually black. There was also the front section of a passenger plane used by Royal Zambian and then Monarch airlines. The flight attendant asked if the children knew various things about airplanes. Sidebar. In every classroom in the school, there is a laminated picture of a candle with cutouts of the childrens' photos stuck to it. If you are very good, the teacher moves your picture "up the candle" or maybe even "on the shining light" around the flame. If you are naughty you are moved "down the candle" in shame. I thought this kind of motivational tool was unique to their school. But when one of the kids gave a good answer the flight attendant said "Do you do house points or anything like that? Because he should get one," and the teacher explained about On the Shining Light, which is how I learned that JKR did not make up the ten points for Gryffindor thing. See, we don't need her!

The flight attendant took the kids in groups to sit in the cockpit while everyone else listened to the engineer explaining all the different jobs at the airport. Some kids were put in firefighter helmets, others had police bowlers with checkered bands, or jaunty cabin crew hats. The girl with the Emirates hat did not care for the drapey bit at all. "Now repeat after me, the nearest exit may be behind you! We will now serve tea and coffee!", said the guide. He brought out a megaphone and kids took turns blasting recordings of distressed birds that are played to dissauade the actual birds from approaching the aircraft. A student teacher in her early twenties examined the metal door on the armrest of a seat. "Oh I think it's...an ashtray? But why would there be an ashtray on an airplane?". I said that I could remember when planes had smoking sections. My grandfather grumbled about having to switch to cigarettes on flights because his preferred pipe and cigars were a bridge too far. "That's mental," she said. I have not mentioned all of the wee breaks. Imagine them extending into infinity.

Last stop was to peer through the windows of the indoor exhibit where some kind of convention was underway. The booths with their keychains and pamphlets were set up under a decommissioned Concorde. Thinking of what a stir the armrest ashtrays had caused, I told the guide I remembered the Concorde regularly making its noisy way overhead when I was a kid on Long Island. No stir. Bus ride home, more subdued this time as all the kids were pretty beat.