Carry on my wayward son

Being an incredibly altruistic individual, today I not only repainted my parents' front door (well, half-repainted; you shouldn't rush these things) but also allowed my Mum and sister to entertain Pete all afternoon!

This is actually a pattern of generous behaviour from me, which has included lending my son to several people as we make our way around the country.  Following a quick trip to his other grandparents and his Weymouth cousins we headed to Wales to see more cousins, cows, sheep, and dragons.  It's always nice visiting farming relatives - you know someone will be at home, and you know food will be readily available.  I've managed to defer Texan obesity so far but I was powerless in the face of Welsh cuisine.

Now we're back in the West Country, where I met up with school friend Tony who I haven't seen in...oh...only 25 years.  And there's the small matter of my selfless door painting.  Time was when doing such a job around here would have earned me a fiver, or maybe even a new Lego kit.  Now I do it purely for love.  Although, come to think of it, there are some very cool new Lego kits available...

Well, you can't drive across Somerset without popping into a dairy and picking up some award-winning unpasteurised cheddar, can you?

Pete with my Goddaughter Charity, whose childcare prowess (learned from me, naturally) means she's guaranteed summer employment in Houston anytime.

Em vs. the aforementioned cheese.  There was only one winner.

A quick stop in Bristol en route to Wales, and a coffee.

Em's a Bristolean now, as is her childhood Frome friend Kerry, and this is Kerry's son Arlan with Pete, because cuteness!!

Down the M4 to Cardiff to meet Pete's cousin Kitty, daughter of my cousin Helen.  So second cousin?  Once-removed?  When you're part of a Welsh family anyone older than you is an aunt/uncle, younger is a nephew/niece, and the same age is a cousin.

And finally in Haverfordwest, watching Usain Bolt's last race, which was far less exciting than us arriving.

Doing my best farmer impression with new niece Pippa.

I'm concentrating hard, and Pippa is unimpressed, because this is The Very Hungry Caterpillar in Welsh!  (Y Lindysyn Llwglyd Iawn).

OK, time for some real farming.

Putting out feed for the Texel rams with Uncle Andrew.

Hosing down the dairy after milking the Holsteins.

We attended a cricket tournament where my cousin Liz was playing (the main controversy was the bar running out of Prosecco before play even began).

My Uncle Bill is fond of a cigar when tending his animals.  I brought him a special Texas-sized one.  It took him ten minutes to light it.

With Aunty Liz - the real power on the farm.

New (currently unnamed) kitten!

Emily regrets working with children and animals.

An unconvinced passenger.

We had a quick trip to the local metropolis of Carmarthen to meet more cousins and also Neil, the vicar who married me and Hannah a long time ago.  Emily won two quid on the scratchies!

Aaaannnddd back to Frome.  Where Grandpa needed a long nap after football practice.

Out at Nunney castle.

Checking for marauders.

And that front door I may have mentioned.  Only the primer.  I'll do the top coat tomorrow...or sometime.

Long way home

Some time ago, when we lived in Washington DC and life seemed stable, we booked tickets back to the UK.  Then Hannah found a job she fancied and we were suddenly in Houston.  Now the flight dates have come around and the cheapest connecting route took us through New Orleans via a night with the Muckers to Baltimore and thence to London.  Hannah should be here sometime next week (that was planned - we didn't lose her on the way).

As tradition dictates, Ellen and Meg picked us up and my mother managed to wait an hour of her Grandson being in the country before arriving and bringing us back to the soft green fields of Somerset.  As tradition also dictates, we've already caught up with many friends and eaten plenty of nice meals in the three days so far.  And I thought Texas would be bad for my waistline...

Getting ready to sleep on the overnight flight to London...which didn't help as Pete ate dinner, watched several films, and had about two hours' sleep in 36.

"I don't want anyone to panic," said the stewardess, "but is there anyone on board who can land a plane?!"

Very pleased to see Meg in Heathrow.



Back in Frome, in Grandpa's shed, with Godfather Mat.

With Godmother Emily and Greatgodmother Julia.

Playdate with Ruth and Bethan in Bath.  "Can I live with them?" asked Pete afterwards.  Of course!

My sister got in some delicacies for me.

And some more.

How his Grandmother sees him.

Then on Wednesday I went into London with Mat and met Sharon!  We were all at Durham together 10...15...20...er...23 years ago?!  No!!

Meanwhile, in Somerset.

Cowboys and artisans

Although I'm sure I could have done it quicker and cheaper myself, I'm pleased to report that our kitchen is now habitable again!  It was all a lot easier than I anticipated - it's amazing how quickly the scouting skills returned once I began cooking on a camping stove again.  But after a dusty few weeks we now have tiles on the floor, cupboards on the walls, and a working fridge.  Paradise, basically.

It was a mixed bunch of men (all men, apart from project manager Regina) who processed through our door, some skilled artisans and some seemingly...less than skilled.  Being British we put a few things right ourselves rather than causing a fuss - the greatest British crime!  In the end I opted to fit our under cabinet lighting myself and Hannah was graceful enough to let me.  Voltage is only 110 here anyway, so it's half as dangerous as doing it in the UK.  I'm very pleased with the way it turned out.

Of course, I'm expected to cook things and make coffee for Hannah again, something cleverly avoided with the excuse "but we don't have a kitchen!"  Now that we do, Hello! Magazine asked if they could come in for a photoshoot...

Hannah and David invite you into their beautiful new kitchen that they spent literally dollars on.

Houseproud Hannah understands the importance of keeping her new kitchen clean and tidy!

David enjoys cooking family meals in small saucepans.  He's wearing clothes that mostly come from thrift stores.

An intimate moment as David instructs Hannah on how to use his espresso machine in their newly redesigned coffee bar.

Selfiewave.

Home improvement

"Come on, how difficult can remodeling a kitchen be?" I asked Hannah, only somewhat rhetorically.  Her withering gaze was all the answer I needed and - to be fair - a 1973 MG Midget in pieces in my brother-in-law's garage shows that I may not be the most adept at putting things back together.  So I threw myself into the crazy world of American home contractors.

First was a designer lady who had done the bathrooms for the previous owner.  "Yeah...I could do this for around sixty-five thousand," she told me with no hint of a smile.  "OK.  How about we drop these bits," I suggested, choking slightly, trying to communicate that I didn't care whether the marble came from Sicily or Skegness.  "Hmm...still about sixty-five thousand," she told me.  Again and again.

Then there was a builder who turned out to be British!  Yay!  Except, after much nagging, he still hasn't got back to us with a quote.  Just like a British builder.

Finally we found Regina who, like a detective from a hard-boiled novel, is happy to cut some corners to get the job done.  That's my language, and so far things have gone very smoothly.  "So far" because we have not yet entered the rebuilding stage.  If a kitchen lacks cupboards, work surfaces, a sink, a cooker, etc. is it still a kitchen?

But there are tiles in the garage that I'm told will be on the floor tomorrow and cabinet construction commences at the weekend.  The whole thing should be completed in two weeks.  Ha!  I'm sure I could have done it quicker and cheaper myself, but there we are.  Anyone want to buy an almost complete MG Midget?

This is the kitchen that was.

I was entrusted with hanging up the dust sheets in the garage.  They fell down, but I hung them up again.

Looks like I put a bit too much chili in my con carne!

And then they took the walls away.  So this is how things are right now!

And the current "kitchen".  Espresso machine, camping stove, toaster...what more do you need?  Don't bother putting that other one back together.

Dependence Day

Just like America declaring independence, it was time for me to emancipate myself from my parents (or was it the other way around?)  We waved them off from George Bush airport and I've just heard that - after some minor kerfuffles with National Express coaches - they've made it home.

The last few days of their stay involved a packed schedule of dashing from one air-conditioned place to another as temperatures soared to 100F+.  Dad was able to flash his Royal Navy credentials and board the local warship, USS Texas, and Pete took his Grandparents around his favourite museums.

And now, just like America, I realise that independence from kind and loving parents isn't what it's cracked up to be.  Mum, Dad, Britain - come back and re-embrace your errant child soon!

Arriving on Mars.

Some are more independent than others.

Mum gets acquainted with slothzilla at the Houston Museum of Natural History.

Modern (and ancient) art at the Menil Collection.

High-calibre mother.

Dad brings out the big guns.

Not like the cruises they normally go on.

Dipping her toes in the Gulf of Mexico.

One of these will change, the other never will.

Love is like a butterfly.

In the Houston butterfly house.

Don't ask me, I studied theology.

Pete in a periscope.

4th July celebrations, adding a few names to the Declaration.

Dad enjoys some patriotic games.

Why are Grandma's visits so popular?

Ride 'em in

If you're a cowboy like me, you come to Texas to rope 'em steers, brand 'em, and...whatever else you do with cattle.  Unfortunately the ultra-urban setting of Houston gives scant opportunity to drive a herd of longhorns thousands of miles across the plains, and the newly-formed Davies Tours (Texan Division) knows what its customers want to see when they visit.  We needed a plan.

Luckily something called the Internet informed me that George Ranch Historic Park was just down the road.  It's a place with a long and storied history; Texas used to belong to Mexico but no one would live here, so the Mexican government contracted with one Stephen Austin to bring Americans down to become Mexican citizens and populate the place.  If you said you were going to be a farmer you got 170 acres of land.  If you said you were going to be a rancher you got 4000 acres of land (seven square miles!) and owned whatever wild longhorn cattle happened to be roaming about there.  Strangely most people became ranchers, and after a rebellion or two Texas was born.

The George family eventually accrued a good 12,000 acres, ran a massive cattle business, then found oil, etc. and remain quite a local force.  The ranch takes you from their first wood cabin to a prairie home, a Victorian mansion, and finally a cattle complex.  More importantly there are cowboy demonstrations every hour!  Except that even at 10am (when we were the only audience) it was already too hot to rope the calves.  Too hot for Texas cattle?  I pitied the many costumed volunteers who recreated ranch life as we traveled around.

This is what Texas is all about!  So taken was I with the experience that I went on the website to see what employment opportunities I could find.  "Part-Time Cowboy" jumped out at me immediately!  "Basic roping skills" it requires.  I can tie my own shoelaces - does that count?

We've been farming these plains for three generations...

"Tex" the longhorn.  Don't stand too close when he tries to swat away a fly.

Babies getting a dip.

Spud, the tame one, enjoying a brush.

Ride 'em, cowboy!  So proud.

Do you have wi-fi?

Put out to pasture.

Look before you sit.

Of course, there are other ways to make money in Texas beside ranching.