We arrived in Houston in what was being regarded as "the big freeze". This entailed clear blue skies and a temperature in the mid 50s. In other words, Julian took off his jacket just as the Texicans were taking off their stetsons and putting on their woollie hats (something of which I am naturally in favour). Locals tell me that the summers in this city are one long sauna, with incedible heat and high humidity. If this is the case, I'm rather glad to be here now.
Houston is not a place for the errant pedestrian. One can wait for Godot before the little red hand on the street crossing turns to a white walking figure, and then one has about four seconds to cross twelve lanes before it starts flashing red again. Being, as my dear followers may appreciate, somewhat challenged in the leg department (okay, I've got four of them but they are damned short) this occasioned bursts of sprinting of which Usain Bolt would have been rightly proud. Neither, strangely enough, are there a surfeit of taxis in the city, so we made friends with the first one we booked and he turned up regular as clockwork to swish us to the next appointment.
The reception in Houston was a hoot - or is that a hootenanny? Art Hall was the star of this particular performance, having set up the evening at the historic Hearsay Restaurant & Lounge and doing it all from San Antonio (which is not exactly next door). On top of Art, we had a field of oilmen who got on famously, knowing lots of people in common and putting the world (or at least the industry) to rights as well as asking Julian just the sort of difficult questions he relishes about alumni relations and the way for Aber to raise its profile internationally. They didn't seem particularly interested in the equally challenging questions I was asking about how they could call an oilfield a field when there was no grass in it. And then there was Jane: Julian fell in love with this pugnacious, adorable and hugely entertaining lady. She was also very forgiving because I was expecting Julian to be flying across the room after he called her a "feisty old broad"! Finally we had an alumna expecting a prospective alumnite so Julian gave her the heavy "sell".
As is happening too often on this trip, the timetable soon went to hell and gone and we were chatting away for hours after the event was supposed to have finished. Julian got up the next morning whingeing about lack of REM sleep, knowing his flight to California was via Dallas and a longish layover, to be followed by driving a hire car to Pasadena. I told him to learn our trick of sleeping standing up.
No comments:
Post a Comment