Saturday 23 July 2016

Brentrance

It's been a while since I returned to the bosom of the mother country.  Maybe I'm just getting more comfortable in the USA, especially now that nice Mr Trump is going to make it great again (Britain, as everyone knows, has always been Great.)

Talking of which, Hannah has had to stay behind for the moment as she's supporting Chevron's sponsorship of both Republican and Democratic conventions.  There's nothing like hedging your bets!  So Pete and I headed to the airport with our bags full of exotic gifts, such as Key Lime Oreos.

All our past flights back have been from the West Coast with the ten-plus hours that location requires, so I wondered how the short trans-Atlantic hop would be different.  The captain announced that, as it was an overnight flight, he wouldn't disturb us with announcements, but then we had to wait 40 minutes before the gin and tonics were served - outrageous!  A further 40 minutes passed before food arrived (chicken or pasta) and by the time they turned out the lights there was a three hour window before they came back on again.  The joy of travel.

Pete demonstrated an amazing ability not to sleep, which Hannah blames my side of the family for, but apart from an obsession with the more mechanical aspects of flight like the tray table and moveable arm rest he was an exemplary travel companion.  Peppa Pig was on the in-flight entertainment system, so that helped.

For the first time ever we were met at the airport, by wonderful Ellen and Meg who drove us back to their house for multiple coffees and brioche.  I slipped Meg a few quid and she entertained Pete like a pro until Grandma and Aunty Emily arrived and we had lunch at The Cricketers pub (of course) and a trip through a very green and pleasant land to Frome.  Finally sleep happened in the car before much playing in Grandpa's new shed.

Today the grand tour begins!  I'm picking up a rental car in Trowbridge, which should be amusing when I try to use a US driving licence and credit card out here in the rural West Country.  "Are you local?" I expect to be asked, before being chased out of Wiltshire with torches and pitchforks.  As long as I remember which side of the road I'm meant to drive on as I make my getaway...


Apple juice, Peppa...all set.


And Daddy too.


Welcome to London.  The weather's just as you left it.


Pete with favourite British lady #1.


Pete with favourite British lady #2.


Pete with favourite British lady #3 (and her new car).


Grandpa puts him straight to work on the potatoes.