Honestly, it looked like it was set up for yoga. Helicopters don't do yoga. I don't know what they do do. No one does. They fly. We don't know how. It might be anti-magnetism or just gravity thinking fuck this. I like to think there are occasion objects that gravity finds just too ludicrous to be bothered with.
The Americans are probably laughing up our weedy helicopter landing facility. They built a proper one on top of Kings in south London, before that they used to land in Ruskin Park next door. Of particular distress to my lovely wife, whose musical ensemble used to regularly play on the bandstand. Two helicopters landing at the same time (some kind of shifty patient transfer, I figure they're like football stickers, everyone is trying to trade the ebola patient) is louder than a lot of tubas.
Reminds me, once upon a time, they were playing the bandstand on Clapham Common, echoing out the crowd-pleasing strains of the theme from Jurassic Park when someone dressed in a full dinosaur costume dashed out of the bushes, did one lap of the bandstand, and then ran off never to be seen again.