Tour de school

Ever since we began the school run on our bikes, I've been dreaming of the day that I can sit back in the peloton allowing the riders in the front to take the headwind so I can conserve my energy through the difficult mountain stages, saving myself for the sprints and inevitably donning the maillot jaune before enjoying my ceremonial laps of the Champs-Elysees holding a glass of Champagne.

And today that happened! Well, some of it, when Lexi had her first day at Pete and Levi's school, meaning parents Dave and Kindra also joined us on our daily ride.

The morning's stage was hotly contested, with Levi's new bike with bigger wheels giving him something of an advantage before I could work through the gears to assert dominance. Dave took the lead navigating the treacherous crossing-the-main-road (the organisers this year forgetting to tell the crossing lady that school had restarted, making the experience of getting over a Houston pedestrian crossing truly life threatening).

Due to it being the first day of school, spectators were everywhere; I'll be having words with the race stewards/principal about their incursions onto our route. Thankfully it didn't detract too much, and all three front riders were delivered to their classrooms with school supplies and signed forms, ready for a full day of learning and return ride this afternoon. Things will only get more competitive from here. I'm off to buy some horse steroids to give me an edge, like a real professional cyclist.

Under starter's orders.

The famous time trial across West Grey St. (Houston drivers give you around 0.3 seconds to cross).

Kindra and Dave tactically slipstreaming off their 4-yr-old.

Congregating in the cafe before the first day of First Grade, Pete looking scared and timid with new classmates (and old daycare buddies) Grace and Jackie. Poor teacher.

Down the river

After a long vacation full of tiring vacations it was time to finish the vacation with a vacation, so we jumped in the car and pointed it west, towards the Pacific Ocean and (a little closer) San Antonio. Hannah had found the very definition of a Davies holiday: a cheap hotel with a big swimming pool.

On arrival, the place turned out to be even more Butlins than first suspected. There was mini golf, and bingo, and fire pits where you could toast marshmallows. Soon any thoughts of getting out and seeing the area dissolved in the lazy river and various water slides.

The highlight for me was the escape room. I'd done these before, and they'd always involved annoying stuff like solving logic puzzles and working together, but this child-focused one tasked us with performing a chicken dance. Pete even volunteered to complete the karaoke challenge, leaving me to question his parentage given I'm too embarrassed even to sing in the shower.

Sadly it was all cut short by the need to come back to Houston to do things like go to work and start First Grade. Otherwise known as "the start of Dad's real vacation..."

Remember the Alamo!

 San Antonio river walk.

A different, slightly cleaner river at the hotel.

 (Artificial) tropical paradise!

Bingo!

The room had all the equipment for frozen margaritas (we had to supply the booze).

Toasting s'mores, although it was hot enough just to leave them outside and wait a few minutes.

Stepping up for karaoke, and singing like an angel, at the Alice In Wonderland-themed escape room.

Tweedledum and Tweedle-dumber.

A little mini golf to complete the holiday camp activities.

Finally, evidence that Hannah can, now and again, leave Chevron behind and relax.

Something to declare

"Are you bringing in anything?" asked the completely humourless US Customs agent at Houston immigration. "Only chocolate," I replied guiltily. "And diamonds!" piped up Pete, referring to some shiny pebbles his grandparents had given him. Many possibilities flashed before my eyes, several involving full body cavity searches, so I opted for "No we aren't. Stop talking now."

Thankfully the guard, presumably the father of an over-talkative child himself, didn't bat an eye, stamped our passport, and we were through. A exasperated talk about when to speak and when not was had as we waited by the luggage carousel.

But the joke's on him, because we did bring something priceless back to the States with us: Ellen and Megan! We were all on the same flight, where Ellen and I tried to see how many cocktails you could order before the stewardesses refused to bring more, while the kids serenely watched movies.

Theirs was a frustratingly short visit to Texas, as they have to get back to the UK in time for their next holiday to Greece. But still we packed it in, with plenty of froyo and ice cream, art and culture (against the wishes of the children) and even some alligator spotting. There was much complaining about the heat, to which the refrain "it's Houston in August!" was all I would offer.

Pete and Meg's relationship is about as sibling as sibling can be, with him arguing that she isn't trying hard enough at the computer games they're playing together, while she's desperately trying to find privacy from a marauding 6-yr-old, with the odd tantrum and tears (from the parents), while simultaneously doing everything together. It was exhausting; Ellen and I just kept up the drinking routine we'd started on the plane.

It was hot, so we took them to the beach. Beautiful Galveston!

Meg, who used to be small and cute. Now she's big and cute!

Obligatory Ellen-and-Hannah-with-drinks photo.

Down the pier.

S'mores over the firepit.

"Helping" me make ice cream.

Catching a tractor ride at George Ranch.

Put to work at the pioneer's hut collecting the eggs.

I see you!

Sibling love. And, like all siblings, it descended into meaningless violence shortly after.

Can't come to America without enjoying a juicy burger!

Meg makes short work of hers.



They wanted to go for a walk around the Bayou, which we did...in 100F+ heat. No one was happy, apart from me helpfully chanting "told you so, told you so..."

Holiday in Houston.

Our last night meal at a noodle house, with the cat beckoning them to come back soon.

Climate change

Much as I love Houston, sometimes three months of 400F temperatures and 243% humidity can get a bit wearing. It was time to escape, but where to? How about that small island in the cold north Atlantic where I grew up?!

So it was that we arrived in England during the hottest week since records began. It was still cooler than Texas, of course, but when air conditioning is waving a copy of The Times in your face, and you still can't get out of the habit of wearing socks to bed, it was certainly more uncomfortable.

We did our usual zip around the kingdom, popping in to say hello to Goddaughter Charity in Durham before speeding down the M1 - followed by sitting stationary on the M25 - for lunch with Ellen and Megan. Thankfully the car had air con, and cricket was on the radio, so it wasn't that different from what I'd be doing in the US.

The majority of the trip was spent in the south, seeing all the family there, including a sojourn in God's Own Country of Wales (currently ranked #1 at rugby, lest we forget). As usual we were treated to endless hospitality and fabulous meals, even if my nieces, nephews and Godchildren didn't show me quite the respect I deserve, but that's been a long-term problem. They can remedy that when we're back at Christmas, when hopefully the weather will have returned to something more respectable too.

Full English breakfast on our first morning.

Taking Granny to the cleaners in a game of Exploding Kittens.

This is the hottest/nicest day that has ever happened in Durham in history!

Introducing Charity, David and Pete to where they'll be coming to university.

And now Durham has a theme park! Adventure Valley.

 The highlight being the world's fastest tortoise.

 Picnic in Woking on a warm day.

Sun's out! Time to barbecue with Grandad.

A short but fiery sermon in St John's Church, Frome.

Digging up potatoes with Grandpa.

Siblings' night out at Frome cinema (that still lets you drink a cider while watching a film). Tonight's showing - Fast & Furious: Hobbs & Shaw. Fantastic.

Aunty Katharine looks at the sea from Nothe Fort, Weymouth.

And then we got in.

Along with every other person in Dorset.

How strange that everyone in this family likes computer games...

Post-beach fish and chips.

From eating fish to catching them down on the Welsh farm.

A quad bike ride with Uncle Bill and cousin Pippa.

The newest member of the family, Uncle Mark's pedigree Sealyham terrier. Just don't ask him how much she cost...