But the south was calling, so after a couple of nights we were back on the road. I say "road", but I think I've grown used to motoring around Texas's seven-lane highways in my massive truck (um...Ford Fiesta). It didn't help that someone decided the height of tourist summer was the best time to shut most of the lanes on the M6, but what builds community spirit better than sitting bumper-to-bumper with the same car for three hours?
Having got to the West Country we indulged in all the usual activities, like wandering into Frome (best place to live in the UK 2018), cleaning my parents guttering, and enjoying a massive family barbecue with all the Goodalls - a surprisingly civilised affair given the numbers and history of those attending. And the summer came back! Which meant that instead of complaining about the rain I could complain about the heat. America hasn't corrupted me too much.
Hannah, Rachel, Chris, Manchester.
Could we be in a northern post-industrial city?
Lock keepers.
Getting a bit artistic in the Whitworth Gallery. Not sure Pete's effort got added to the collection.
Could we be in the south?
All donations accepted.
Crabbing at Poole Quay. They spent happy hours not catching anything...
...and then Daddy showed up and got one in, like, 20 seconds.
Fisherman's friend.
Fulfilling my duties as a son.
Fulfilling her duties as a grandmother.
Let's get all the grandchildren together in one place! What could go wrong?
Where did they go?
A light lunch.
The line for pudding.
They owe it all to their mother.
British air conditioning.
Monsters still exist here in Dorset.
