Fair enough

I've always been a fan of a good agricultural fair, ever since we were given the day off school every year to go to the Frome Cheese Show.  Ah...the tractors, the fruit and veg competitions, watching animals paraded around a ring and then being able to eat bits of them deep fried.

Thankfully Pete feels the same so today we drove just north of Baltimore to attend the Maryland State Fair.  We arrived in time to watch the dairy steers being judged before moving on to a pony gala.  The day heated up as quickly as the competition and soon we were sweltering in 95F heat (why do they hold this show in the summer?) but discovered that the vegetable building was refrigerated so went there to join the frozen peas.

The highlight of the day was, without a doubt, the swimming pig show.  Although - in the tradition of many a carnival - the build-up was rather more exciting than the payoff, which was basically a piglet jumping into a bath.  Still, that's not something you see every day.  We cooled down again with an ice cream as we watched a chainsaw demonstration and then made our way back to air-conditioned, urban civilisation.

It's easy to tell who the judges are at state fairs.

Casting a critical eye over the livestock.

But we're really more into machines.  Big machines.

Pete finally got his cattle tag!  Now we can legally send him to auction.

A sand pit?  No, a corn pit!  If it gets much hotter there'll be plenty of popcorn to go around.

Roast pork.

Is there any other way to have veggies?

Pony club.

A fully automated singing vegetable puppet show!  Hmm.

And vegetables for lunch too.

More vegetables, but ones to be judged.

The very best of the bunch.

Hayfever.

Racing pigs!  You could win a plastic pig nose if your pig came first.  None of ours did.



Swifty gets ready, and...

...um, that's about it.

Chainsaw magic, although Pete decided it was too loud so we didn't get to actually see what the finished product was.  Looks good so far.



Better than aircon.

Spaceman, I always wanted you to go into space, man

Aside from Twinkies, NASA is the coolest thing that America has ever invented.  Firstly, they go into space.  Secondly...well, you don't need a secondly.  And while I'd assumed that NASA stuff only happens in Houston or Florida, it turns out the Goddard Space Flight Center is right here on our doorstep!  And it's free!  As my entertain-a-vacationing-three-year-old quest continues, this was almost literally manna from heaven.

They don't do any launches from over here - it's where all the scientists and engineers live (presumably so that if a rocket goes wrong it doesn't wipe all of NASA out in one big explosion).  They also manage the communications between Earth and various satellites, and oversee things like the Hubble Space Telescope and the new James Webb Space Telescope that will be launching soon (although this has been delayed because of a change to how Chamber A cool down specifics will be handled.  Typical).

Most importantly, the place was full of touch-screens and had a Gemini space capsule that you could play in.  Even though I was Mission Control, astronaut Pete generously allowed me to sit in the passenger seat.  We left enthused about the future of humanity and the possibility of colonising the galaxy.  Stop spending so much on the military/elections/guns America, and give the money to NASA!  Then they can open more great visitor centres where I can entertain my child during school holidays.

Possibly not the latest in space technology.

A rather un-Biblical explanation of the origins of life.

The Moon hitting the Earth (not actual size).

We applied factor 50 before we left the house.

Exploring the planets.



Houston, we have a three-foot-tall problem.

But I want to be a spaceman too!

After the Sun, the Moon.

Two hot guys.

A Moon tree!  Its seed was flown to the Moon and back on Apollo 14 before being planted here.  It didn't seem to suffer any untoward effects, except that now it bleeds acid and tries to attach to your face.

Vacation for whom?

"School's shut for the next two weeks," Pete's teacher casually mentioned on Friday.  After I'd got my hyperventilating under control thanks to the school nurse, everybody had left.  Two weeks!?  There was a time when a bouncy chair and a Baby Einstein DVD got me most of the day to myself, but no more.  Without visitors booked - in this situation I'd even be happy for my sister to stay! - I needed a plan.

OK, I thought, what 3-yr-old doesn't like abstract expressionism?  On Monday morning we took the train into DC for a wander around the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, "a leading voice for contemporary art and culture".  And things went alright.  While Pete admitted to leaning more towards fauvism and neo-dada in his tastes, we spent a good twenty minutes watching a repeating video of houseplants being thrown out of windows.

Um...yeah.

After that I needed to get back down to earth, so took the literal route of going to a farm.  Loudon Heritage Farm is a little way off into Virginia, but I'm always amazed how quickly the US capital gives way to the rural spread of the Shenandoah.  Unfortunately there were no actual living things at this farm, but far better than that were the stuffed animals, general store, post office and kitchen, all fully stocked to allow kids to do anything they wanted.  And they did anything.  The stove was filled with plastic fruit, whole chickens cooked and served with chocolate brownies.  Chaos reigned, and Pete loved it.

On day three I managed to convince Sarah, mother of Pete's classmate Zachary, to join us, so I had at least some adult conversation while the kids explored the indoor cave at Meadowside Nature Center.  My plan was to take a rowboat out on the nearby lake afterwards but Sarah could not be convinced to join us, even after my exhaustive recounting of British naval history and its countless triumphs.  Pete and I ended up paddling around in circles on our own.

How many days left now?



You park the car outside for five minutes and this happens.



This is a self-portrait of me on washing day in our house.

In Virginia it's legal to drive a tractor from the age of three!

Pete on Secretariat.

A bit of post-race grooming.

Prices have gone up in general store.

Disappointed that real milk didn't come out.

Chicken selfie!

Sarah receives medical attention.  Doctors are looking so much younger these days.

Right!  Which way to Gibraltar?

Behind the quiet doors of suburbia

You think you know your next-door neighbours, and then:

Oh say, can you see...?  Yes, I can.

And as if to confirm the coming apocalypse, the temperature has been hovering over 100F daily, and every afternoon one of these rolls in and blots out the sun:

We got orange and blue lightning yesterday, and when it's gone it's just as hot and humid as it was before!  Personally, I blame Obama.

Last days in civilisation (with an "s")

And so the holiday rushed to its conclusion, with trips to Weymouth beach, a last night with Hannah's parents, and then an Olympic sprint to Heathrow to drop off the car and hope they didn't notice the crumbs within and the dents without (they didn't).

It's been a marvelous trip, helped by a British summer that was actually more pleasant than the one in DC, where humidity is currently around 154%.  As if to chide us for going away, our house was 89F inside when we got back at 9pm!  It still hasn't cooled down, but the Cadbury's and Hob Nobs are safely in the fridge.

Thank you to everyone for your wonderful hospitality while we were back in the mother country, and remember that our door is always open (not literally - people would steal stuff) and you're welcome to visit anytime.  Or at least until Trump gets in and we're deported.

First a picnic...

...then on to the beach!

Off with Andrew and Oliver for the best milkshakes in Britain.

Grandma treated someone else at the same time.

A duet of cousins.

And then the flight home.  Neither travel companion was too difficult once they got their in-flight entertainment.

Adult entertainment

The joy of Grandparents is that they want to spend time with their Grandchildren!  And the Grandchildren want to spend time with them!  We took full advantage of this unnatural situation by dumping Pete in Frome and running away to London for my real 40th birthday celebration.

In the capital, Hannah had booked us a night in a swanky hotel (chocolates on your pillow and everything!) and lunch out at a very nice restaurant called The Greenhouse.  The meal was really the main event; after taking our seats we waved away the Champagne trolley before canapes involving gels and miniature sesame and spiced plum choux pastries came along.  The meal continued in this vein for the next couple of hours before we left with significantly heavier stomachs and lighter wallets.

Meanwhile, in Somerset, Grandma had arranged something very special for Pete.  His favourite book - in the we've-read-it-10,000-times sense - is Maisie The Palace Cat, given to us by family-friend Janet, which details in story and song the life of frolicsome feline Maisie, who lives in the Bishop's Palace by Wells Cathedral.  Through a circuitous connection, which involves knowing someone who sings in a choir with the Bishop's wife, etc. etc. Mum managed to get a private audience with said cat!  Pete, as you can imagine, was overcome, the way I was recently when meeting a cat from my youth.

Back in London we met up with little sister Rachel, in town on business, and enjoyed cocktails before retiring to our suite.  The next morning we wandered down to The British Museum to see all the priceless artifacts we've...er...borrowed from the rest of the world for safe keeping.  I'd heard they were on the lookout for more well-preserved antiques and wanted to make sure my cabinet was in a nice sunny position.

Hannah's sweet smile got us a suite upgrade.

The most exclusive address in London.

Back in Frome the Petes take in The Clangers.

It's Maisie!  The real one!

All Pete's favourite people in one place.

Cheers!  We finally got rid of the parents!

Beautiful Wells.

How Grandma sees her Grandson.

Back in London.  When Pete's not around we have no idea how to spend our time.

Next morning, waiting for breakfast to arrive.  Tsk.

At the British Museum.  Any room?