Yes, for some reason, you have to leave the US to get a visa to remain in the US, and while I argued strongly for South Africa (coincidentally where the English cricket team are currently playing) Hannah and Pete said Britain would be easier. This led to a crazy 24 hours when we flew from Houston to Manchester, drove down to Somerset to drop Pete (a smug non-visa-needing US citizen) with Grandma and Grandpa, then caught the train to London.
Our visa appointment went smoothly in the brand new US embassy that has more mood lighting and frosted glass than an Apple store. As ever there were disappointingly no exciting or probing questions, just queuing and a request for filled-in forms. Hollywood heartthrob Tom Hiddleston was in the waiting hall with us, proving that even famous people can't escape paperwork, although he did get through a lot quicker than us civilians. Not that it was too slow; three days later our new visas arrived! I was all set to jump on a plane, but was told we had to stay for Christmas.
And it was a wonderful Christmas, apart from the times we had to go outside. I'm sure it never used to flood this much! Thankfully seeing the family, and consuming the copious food and drink, kept us warm and very happy. Americans have never really got stodgy puddings, and with so many on offer throughout the season I'm actually returning to Texas more obese than when I left.
Pete, seeking passage back to America on the SS Great Britain.
The unsinkable Davieses.
A young engineer.
Two old engineers.
Weymouth beach, not as crowded as in the summer.
Christmas lights, in the rain.
Helping Grandma with another stodgy pudding.
Helping Grandad with another drink.
Stopping off to see the Queen (she wasn't in, rudely).
Climbing with cousin Izzie.
Back into the usual sibling-like antagonism with Meg.
A final trip into the capital...
...then back to Manchester to fly home.
Keeping out of the mud.
