Dave: Do you know physics?
Me: I did a little bit at school.
Dave: Well physics is in this building, in that building, in those buildings over there, physics is inside all of them.
Me: Cuppa?

Two weeks in Houston.

These guys (yes, all Americans) have security issues. Walking into the airport we were warned over the tannoy that “Any inappropriate remarks or jokes at security may result in your arrest.” I love a red rag more than the next man so waited behind the yellow line, acting as sensibly as ever. The border security officer nodded for me to step forward. I did so, handed over my passport and glared at him like I meant business. He glared back at me. He meant business too. I glared harder. He glared harder. We both glared harder still. “What is your purpose in this country?” he said cooly whilst removing his Rayban Aviators. “What is your purpose in this country?” I said cooly whilst removing my symmetrically appropriate Rayban Aviators. “You messin’ with me?” he said, clearly agitated. “You messin’ wid me?” I retorted in my best Brooklyn. He nodded to his compatriate, the one with a side-arm hanging off his waist, who swaggered over and without saying a word, cuffed me and led me away. I’ll stop there as none of that is true apart from the line over the tannoy. The jumped up little fascists.

Anyway… Had the first Sunday off so hired a car and drove over to the Johnson Space Center – worth a visit. Drove on down to Galveston (oh Galveston), not worth a visit since it got hit by Ike, the storm which you heard about but not a lot maybe since Lehman Bros collapse and news of the world’s financial mess around that time. After stuffing our faces on the largest crab legs I’ve ever seen at Joe’s Crab Shack in a nice little coastal town called Kemar we drove on back to Houston. Only when we were nearing Houston we realized we’d been driving adjacent to one or two mothers of an oil field/refinery for a majority of the 40 miles from the coast. About 40 miles long I said. These people know how to consume.

Went to see the ball game one mideweek evening at the Minute Maid stadium, Houston Astros vs Philidephia Pirates. Great stuff. Very crowd-centric, although the TV commercial ad breaks were a tad lame. Since I’ve been back home I’ve been receiving NRA spam that just won’t quit. I think it must be due to a form I filled in at the baseball game so that I could get me a free Astros teatowel. Sons of guns.

A few things Texas has got right:

Jalapenos with most meals
Buffalo wings
‘The Flying Saucer’ pub on Main Street, downtown Houston. Loads of bitters, IPAs, porters from around the world.

A few things they’ve got wrong:

Consumption
Comparing healthcare reform to some form of socialism.
And their clinical fear of communism.

At the airport before my flight home:

Waiter: What can I get you?
Me: Could I have the Buffalo shrimp please.
Waiter: Awesome.
Me: Really? I mean was what I just ordered actually genuinely awesome, was it? Don’t ever talk to me again.

I didn’t say any of that last bit either, but I definitely thought it.

Best bumper sticker: “I love concrete”.

But otherwise it was hotel-work-hotel-work. Houston’s a big old town though, 4th biggest in the states. Looking down from the hotel window, I was thinking how we’re all just ants. Drones going about our business. This country in particular though seems to have it fairly well operational. I know you know but the place really is a powerhouse. So I left the Hyatt in downtown Houston where a Corrosion Conference was in full swing, picked up some cowboy paraphenalia on the way to the airport and flew home to my girls.

Next up: Sao Paulo.

For the record though, recently did two weeks working in Prague. Comment: Too many effing tourists stuffed into a small but beautiful city. Then did four days in Castries, St.Lucia. Saw very little of the place itself though. Did get to spend an hour on the beach in Barbados on the return however. A typical example of service in St.Lucia:

Waiter: “Can I take your order?”

Me: “Could you give us two minutes please?”

15 minutes later…

Me: “Hi, could we order please?”

Waiter: “Ahh, YOU want to order now?” [walks off again, most likely to prepare the special sauce for my dinner]

Visiting a landlocked country then comparing that to various islands makes it bleedin’ obvious that one day, wherever we eventually land (geddit), it has to be on the coast.

Plus, I hit 50 the other day (fancypants gmap). Yes it’s all about the numbers, not the actual substance of the places.

This is now a month overdue, so in 19 years and less than 3 months we’ll be celebrating your 21st birthday (yes do ask me for help with your maths homework anytime). I wonder what you’ll look like when you’re older. Cute as a motherfucking button I should imagine.

Month 21 phot

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Conversation transcripts Mumma sent me two consecutive mornings:

F:  Mummaah?
K:  Yes bubba?
F:  Daddaa?
K:  Dadda loves you very much.
F:  Nice

F:  Mummaa?
K:  Yes bubba?
F:  Daddaa?
K:  Daddy’s coming home soon.
F:  Dadda home come

And then a morning after an argument between Mummy and I. You hops into bed with us and the first thing you say is “Dadda loves you Mumma”.

Oh bollocks/ how the what!?

This time I’m spending away is playing on me a bit. It’s far from an ideal situation. Yep it’s unlikely that you’ll remember any of this time, I think my first memories may have been from when I was about three, playing with snow and playing with some wooden toys at ‘Jingles’, the nursery I went to. But I don’t want to miss anything about you. And come to that, I don’t want you to miss out on me too. Have left you and Mummy and #2 (still undecided on names between Bow, Cat, Sam or else) again for two and a half weeks, this time for Czech.

I came home from work early the day before I caught my flight, in order to squeeze in some more time together. Decided it was time we went swimming again so headed over to Windsor. You were non-stop around the pool, squealing with excitement, loving it. No float nor armbands, confident enough for me to just hold you in the water with one hand, but stupid enough to try and let go of me a couple of times. Must do more of that soon after I get back.

Stats
H: 83.5cms, W: 12.3kgs, (historical…)

I had previously questioned the need for a routine but you’ve come up with one naturally anyway. Up at 6:30-7ish. TV and cuddles in bed. Either we drop you off at Wendy’s (the childminder, who you’re always excited to see) or she picks you up around 9ish. Breakfast (toast and honey currently your favourite), pick you up around 4 or 5ish, by which time you’ve normally eaten (well), play for an hour and a bit then you normally call ‘bubbles’, i.e. bathtime and up we go, followed by a book and bed around 6:30. Easy.

You love…

• penguins at the moment, probably started by you watching Happy Feet
• bouncing on the trampoline or the bed
• letting us know who your best friends are. We’re ‘bigged up’ when it’s us
• drinking -  you always have and continue to drink like you’ve just discovered an oasis after being stuck for a week in the Sahara
• making us laugh. A couple of month ago your funny thing was this: looking at one of us with your eyes locked to one side whilst your face is looking the opposite way (like the 7th picture above). You hold it for a few seconds until we burst into laughter then you join in, satisfied that you’ve done your entertainment bit for the time being. And then what’s the second rule of show business Frankie? Exactly.

And as you’ve picked up so much language already, along with it, you’ve quickly become a very polite lady: “Frankie, would you like something to eat?” “Ummm, no thank you.” And you’re also slightly on the hypochondriac side “Hurt” – as you profer to me a part of your body that desperately needs kissing better. And sometimes you speak so earnestly, so definite and so considered. I wonder if words may be your thing too, as it is with quite a few in the family.

Glossary

• Nice warm: warm Ribena
• Bikeball: let’s go and play with the bike and the ball.
• Shake-rolls: being talcum-powdered after bathtimes, taken from the english “shake, rattle and roll”
• Cook cook: make believe cooking, also denoted by moving your hands like a DJ
• Bubba: your toy baby. Bloody hideous thing it is, thanks Helene.
• My Bonnay: your cousin Bonnie
• Grannay: Granny
• Funneshd: finished
• Ahhkayy: OK
• A-ix-Abi: your mates from Wendy’s, Alex and Abi

By the time I next write, we’ll be back in London town. Hoo-bloody-ray. We’ve missed our flat in Bow and can’t wait to get there again. Soon afterwards, little sister will be with us. We talk to you about her quite a bit and occassionally you’ll kiss Mummy’s tummy. Despite the absurdity concept that there’s a baby growing inside Mummy, you have cottoned on to the fact that you’re going to have a sister, saying the word “sister”, saying “bubba Mummy’s tummy”. The four of us went to get the one of us scanned a couple of weeks back. We’d briefed you as to what was going on and as soon as your sister’s image came up on screen, you squealed with delight “Babyyyyyyyyy”. Naturally, I was quietly blubbing away and then you have to go and say “Happyyyyyyy”.

You slay me girl. Love, love, love,

Your Daddy x