PreTend Command, Parents and Toddlers Command, take your pick. Shame to leave such a nice part of the world, but what's to do?
What used to get my goat was the view of the Procurement Palace in Bristol. I've never been in, but from the outside there were modern glass office blocks, fountains, sculpted gardens, covered walkways and chockablock full of civil servants shovelling subsidised lunches into their faces.
Reminded me of when I did the ATPL exams at Aviation House, Gatwick - the Hanging Gardens of Babylon - where pikey examinees were held back from the subsidised canteen for the first 15 minutes of the lunch hour so permanent staff could get their noses in the trough without interference from the 'ordinaries'.
Reading back, I know I sound like a pinko commie faggot, but I'm not. It's just when you pop along the corridor to the bogs in your 1930's built hangar and the place stinks, with mildew and peeling paint on the walls, you wonder if a civil servant would tolerate it. I believe it's called 'minimum military requirement'. Acceptable in Iraq maybe, but not at an established peace-time UK military training establishment. IMHO.