Thankfully things have settled down in the tranquil environment of Grandma’s house, after a hectic few days driving around Wales and the West Country. We caught up with our old college chaplain Neil in Aberaeron before making a nighttime dash back to Frome and then spending the next day in Dorset with Hannah’s parents.
We even got to enjoy bonfire night, the holiday that’s hardest to explain to our non-British friends; celebrate the burning of a Roman Catholic by burning other, modern-day figures in effigy! Everyone brings their kids, it’s great. Anyway, we had the traditional back garden firework display, except now I’m old enough to light them. We remained accident free.
Tomorrow Pete is spending the whole day with Grandma and Aunty Em, and we don’t even have to pay them! Suddenly I see an advantage to moving back to Britain. Hannah and I are certainly taking advantage tomorrow, with an adults only trip to London, including slap-up meal at a fancy restaurant. Maybe next trip we could leave Pete alone with relatives for the first few nights – that would cure jetlag much quicker! For one of us, at least.
The farmers assess the stock.
A foot trimming demonstration from my cousin Mark. Significantly quicker than cutting Pete's nails, I can tell you.
Theological discussions with Father Neil Evans.
A very questionable firm.
Down in sunny Blandford with the other grandparents...
...who prove just as useful at entertaining grandchildren! I like this arrangement.
Bonfire night! Ooooh, aaaaah, etc.
