We could only enjoy one night of hospitality and one day around the coffee shops, canals and museums of the city before we were off again to Durham. Ah, Durham, where the long story of Pete's arrival on this earth began. It would have been a shorter story had Hannah required less convincing to marry me but I think she was disconcerted by how young and reckless I was then. I've improved with age, like a fine wine or a Camembert.
Mat was our host here and had arranged a night out at the Traveller's Rest pub for everyone. He was also gracious enough to be on the kiddie table while I enjoyed a cloudy cider and catch up with the North East crew over pie and chips. The best of British.
It was another too-short stay before we were speeding south and west again, on roads amusingly referred to as "motorways". After eight hours of service stations and stationaryness I wondered why I ever complained about the DC Beltway. But we arrived back in Frome no worse for wear, simply annoyed that Hannah is going to cross the Atlantic quicker than we crossed the British Isles.
Early morning on the farm. Well, they're milking by 5am, so early is relative.
Out of Wales and into Manchester, where I handed on the baby to Aunty Rachel. Having lots of relatives is extremely useful.
A summer perambulation around Levenshulme.
What's that? Aunty Rachel's cooking is as good as Mummy's? Shhh!
Entertaining the Manchester public with a bit of The Star Spangled Banner.
On arrival in Durham, Mat offered Pete fish finger sandwiches in front of the telly! It's like heaven.
In front of the theology department, where Hannah was first attracted to my intellect and eloquence.
Pete helps finish off Mat's latest book.
Durham Cathedral! Not the real one but a Lego version that we contributed to many years ago.
In the undercroft cafe with Juliet and Andrew.
We took ourselves on a quick tour around the labyrinthine corridors of St John's College, where Hannah was first attracted to my wit and athleticism. This is my old room. The memories!
The famous stairway that ends in a wall - a metaphor for studying theology at John's College.
Lunch at Gregg's: a cheese pasty and a sausage roll. Nothing better.
We spent the afternoon at Hall Hill Farm, up on the Durham hills, where Pete put his Welsh-learned dairy skills to the test.
At the rock face.
Tractor ride.
A wallaby! What's a wallaby doing in a freezing field in County Durham? The wallaby was wondering the same thing.
A real tractor ride.
Another meal, another kids' table.
At the end of a long drive, Grandma's there (and she lets you watch all the TV you want).
