But first it was Hannah's turn to have some fun, so she took us to an oil rig. The Ocean Star is an old offshore drilling rig that is now permanently moored in Galveston harbour, where it has become a museum and education centre. As with many "education centres" hereabouts, the educational content is about how great oil is. No big surprise, given Galveston's economy, and it was fun to clamber all over the hulking superstructure. Hopefully the Chevron Christmas party is on a real one.
Then Dad displayed his uncanny ability to sniff out warships wherever he goes. This particular one was the USS Cavalla, a submarine that served in the Second World War and is now the main exhibit at the American Undersea Warfare Center in Galveston. We wandered belowdecks, inspecting the torpedo tubes, diesel engines, and the like. Dad complained that US submarines are always bigger than British ones (but of course!) and I mused that every minute I spend on a submarine makes me thankful I don't have to spend actual time on a submarine.
While we indulged in this naval pursuit, Grandma spent the day in the hotel with her poorly grandson; though I felt slightly guilty for this I did note that most of her friends are often lumbered with sick grandchildren with little-to-no notice or thanks. We were just giving her the full grandparental experience!
All too soon our beach retreat was at an end, and a return to real life beckoned. Well, not completely real life, as my parents are here for another week...
Beach life.
And some more. In December!
The perfect place for a family outing.
Black gold! Or just gold gold.
Up the gangplank.
One day son, all this will be yours.
The Chevron halo effect.
How do you get onto a rig? In a basket!
Spot the parents.
Time to teach Grandma "Sleeping Queens"...then making it interesting with some $$$s involved.
Early morning trip to the beach.
Paddling.
WW2 relics.
Permission to come aboard?
Inspecting the torpedo tubes.
Down the hatch.
The hedgehog! A British invention, stolen by the Yanks.
Boom!
Well, it wouldn't be a British beach holiday without the rain.
But, as I always say, when life hands you a hurricane, fly a kite!
Another fine rainy day activity.
Dawn, foam, driftwood. Goodbye Galveston!
