That time my father visited

I honestly never thought the day would come.  My DAD visited from Canada.  Sure, he always talked about it, but there was never even the slightest inclination from him that he'd actually COME.  Sure enough, he did.  It was a warm April this year, thankfully, and it was perfect weather for him most of the time.  He stayed for a few weeks, with a trip to Spain sandwiched in between to round out what would have been the end of his 1975 tour of Europe with Alex, had they not ran out of money (is that why they never got to Spain?  Or did they just not get to Torremolinos?  I can't remember...there were QUITE a few Europe stories in those two weeks!).

Anyway, it was a pleasure to have him and now that he's spent more time with Dad, Steven is now acutely aware of where I get nearly every single one of my...eccentricities?  Something like that.  Here we are touring Anne Boleyn's house, a natural first pitstop (he had just gotten off the plane at this point...trooper).

Twins...

On what was supposed to be a sunny day, we ventured out to Brighton.  These are the best sea shots we managed...

And on our most adventurous day, the one where Steven drove us into town and we left my house keys on the seat of his car, rendering us completely helpless and pub-dependent until Steven got home  came home early to rescue us, we headed through ALL of London: St Pauls, SoHo, Buckingham Palace, the whole gamut.  And of course my Father was the first person I'd ever known to eat those hot nuts sold on and around the bridges.  And of course they were the best things I've ever had in my life.  Father knows best.

Thank you for finally venturing across the pond.