Home advantage

Watching international sport in America is an interesting prospect when a "home" game can take place half a continent away, which is why I jumped at the chance to take Pete along to watch the USA play football ("soccer") here in Houston!

They were playing a friendly against Chile at the Houston Dynamo stadium, and no sooner had I told our old friends Silvi and Ignacio in Santiago we were going than a box arrived at our door holding official Chile supporters T-shirts!  As that team was by far the favourites I was happy to turn up in Chilean regalia (wearing my England shirt with our one World Cup star underneath for good measure).

By a serendipitous coincidence Pete's best friend in his class, Elena, is Chilean, and so we had the company of her and her family.  Unfortunately both Pete and Elena, having been born in the USA, enjoy dismaying their parents by claiming to be 100% American rather than acknowledging the truth of their heritages.  I took along both my Chilean and USA flags so that they could express the preference, as well as my Welsh flag as a true loyalty test for my son.

I'd like to tell you it was a game of two halves, but it was a game of two goals scored in the first nine minutes and then little after.  There were some chances, but there was a definite lack of finishing quality, mostly because Man U wouldn't release Alexis Sanchez for what was basically a kick-around in a park, even though Barcelona's Arturo Vidal and his mohican haircut made it.

None of that dampened anyone's enjoyment, especially Pete and Elena who spent the match eating hot dogs, nachos, and popcorn while screaming "Chi Chi Chi Le Le Le!" at the tops of their lungs.  "Thank you, you've made a Chilean out of my daughter!" Elena's mum told me.  What I've made of my American-born British boy who now claims he's Chilean while his father tells him he's Welsh is another matter...

Chileans together!

Time for the anthems.  The Chilean one is about twice the length of the Star Spangled Banner - an early power move!

Rowdy supporters.

 

A rare attack.

When the game gets boring, the supporters amuse themselves.

Tonight we are all Chileans.  Or maybe Americans.  Or just a healthy mix.

Proudly serving my corporate masters

There comes a moment that a boy reaches an age when he must decide what he's going to do for the rest of his life.  For Pete, that age is six, and the moment is the When I Grow Up Expo - a careers fair put on by Houston Independent School District for six-year-olds.  With no pesky federal laws around here, we start 'em young in Texas!

I think the event was open to older kids as well, but the advantage of having a cute kindergartner who's happy - in a very un-British manner - to go up and talk to anybody is that you get LOADS of freebies.  We are not going to be in need of pens for many years, even if a lot say things like "Houston Sanitation District" on them.

As ever, it's just fascinating to talk to people who are experts in their fields, and so we learned all about where Houston's water comes from (mostly surface run-off, unless they get really desperate i.e. every day in summer) how the Port of Houston works (the US's largest importer of things-that-won't-fit-in-shipping-containers!) and how many words-a-minute a professional stenographer can churn out (220!!)

It was an excellent and inspiring event, and at the end of it I asked Pete if he now knew what he wanted to be when he grows up.  "I want to be a Dad," he said, melting my heart, "so I can stay at home all day and play computer games."  He's so funny, where on earth does he get ideas like that!?  Haha.  Who knows?  Haha.  Hm.

It's a trap!

Hannah, who is absolutely not a corporate spy, checks out a competitor's oil rig in virtual reality.

Local employers were here too.

Police horse!  Not one of the freebies.

Pete spent a disproportionate amount of time testing fake (I hope) urine.  If it was real, the donor has some medical problems.

Nope.  Nope.  Not an area of work I will be going into.  I'm just going to sit down for a bit...

Interesting how money seems to be the biggest component on the road to college success.

I've always found firefighters sexy.

Not sure either of these two is cut out for running Port Houston.

If you want to get rich Pete, you know what line of work you have to go into.

Back for Brexit

As a child, you think your parents will always be around for you.  And then, in the blink of an eye, they're waving you goodbye and heading to the business lounge in Houston airport.

Spring Break continued, which meant no school and therefore 1000% more Pete in his Grandparents' life.  A happy occurrence, but a tiring one.  I did my best to keep both ancestors and descendants happy with more trips to museums and coffee shops, and we finished with a long weekend in Galveston, our local seaside town of much renown.

My parents came at this time of year because they wanted to avoid the Houston heat, and they managed to do that remarkably well, with the weather resembling Britain rather than Texas.  Then, as things began to warm up at the end of their stay, a huge oil fire blotted out the sun.  But it's OK, because it's not Chevron's (sighs Hannah) and it didn't delay the flight (sighs Dad).

So that's it!  What am I meant to do now?  Go back to whatever it was I was doing with my life, I suppose.  I know childcare was involved but I'm a little lost beyond that. I implored my parents to stay until after Brexi-pocalypse on 29th but they heeded me not.  If I start rowing now perhaps I'll be off the coast in time to evacuate them quick...

Brits together!  In front of a Damien Hirst at the Museum of Fine Art.

Something even more abstract.

"So Grandma, if you need to grow your own food for any reason in the near future, this is what you do..."

What does chaos look like?  A Spring Break balloon show at the local library.

Making a connection on the electrical music bench at the Kids' Museum.

 Another Texas tradition: Whataburger.

A picture of Victorian criminality, at the Naval Museum in Galveston.

Do you have to ask?

The Admiral is aboard!

Port and starboard.

Mum orders a large one "just to take the edge off" at the Rainforest Cafe.

Leaving Europe

"I think you should be here on March 29th," I told my parents.  "I have a inexplicable feeling something bad might happen."  "Nonsense," they told me.  "Everything will be fine!"

So they've come to visit immediately prior to Brexitageddon, and I will be sending them home - before British airspace closes - with enough Twinkies and Cheetos to see them through the food shortages.  To be fair to Dad, he did live in London during World War II and ate several pet rabbits, so has more authority to talk of "plucky British spirit" than most.

Obviously my first priority was to fatten them up, which I've achieved through trips to revolving sushi restaurants, ice cream parlours, and pancake breakfasts.  I also took them down to the Rodeo to kit them out with spurs and lassos, and a horse for when the petrol pumps dry up.  Once we're freed from European law you'll be allowed to take a horse on an international flight as hand luggage, so all good.

This week is Spring Break for Pete, which means his mornings are now spent snuggling in bed with Grandma and Grandpa watching cartoons.  I'm trying to drag them out to the various museums and galleries on offer but it's a losing battle so I've slipped into my usual domestic manservant role, living off the crumbs of affection passed to me if I'm noticed.  I even cooked homemade pasta last night!  How's that for dutiful?

And so, as Theresa May jets between Strasbourg and London mere hours before the biggest vote of her life, I'm left reflecting on my mother's advice whenever I had a vital piece of homework or revision for a crucial test: "Leave it all to the last minute, then hope.  And if you fail, blame it on the major European powers."  Words that have always served me well.

Start as we mean to go on with a pancake breakfast.

A visit to the Japanese garden.

It's been freezing here!  Very un-Houston, but we're back up to 80F+ and 96% humidity again now.

Grandpa enjoys his coffee shops, as does Grandson.

Down at the Rodeo.

...with me, your Texan tour guide.

 Dad passes on important knowledge.

Start of Spring Break activities down at the Children's Museum.

Naval architects never retire.

Bouncing!

Some kind of sticky ball game.  Hannah won, of course.

Sushi by conveyor belt.  Not to everyone's tastes, as we had to convince Grandpa that tempura fried shrimp is the same as scampi before he was happy.

First Petes on the moon.

A little nitro-ice cream, because we haven't had enough treats yet.