Daddies

and weekends 

So Saturday, my dad, my Danish cousin and me got on the train to London at a little past twelve. It was a day well spent with walking over Tower Bridge, looking at Big Ben, an angry Scotsman playing bagpipe and getting in an argument with some tourists, and London Eye (albeit the queue was far too long for us to even bother thinking about getting on it). We ate mediocre hamburgers at some tiny eating place, watched street performers and I even got some cotton candy. With dad paying for everything, as well as six little pictures of London I found at a souvenir shop, I felt very satisfied by six when we sat on the train home.

On Sunday we ate dinner at The Last Post (also known as Spoons), a pub in Southend, and sat there for hours talking about anything and everything and little family secrets. Monday morning they would be headed back home, to Denmark and Norway respectively, and when dad’s parting gift was 100 pounds, I can only say I was very happy. 

 (Come on, I’m a student, my life practically revolves around money).