Christening

London today.

As I was about to turn into the road down to Lancaster railway station, I had a sudden change of heart and opted to drive to London, exchanging all the seat hunting and train swapping shenanigans at the other end for a few hours with my thoughts (and iPod).

In the evening, my dad and I went out for a meal together. He's a marvellous story teller and I never get bored of hearing his stories from his life: the tough childhood; his national service; working for the bank and meeting my mum; and then the work abroad, first in Nigeria and then in Hong Kong. All doubly exciting if you know that he didn't even see the sea until he was twelve.

Each time he tells the stories, each one segues into another, following a different path through his life from the last time he told me and always there's some new detail or related anecdote. So we ate and drank and each time I could see him thinking he was talking too much, I'd prompt him with another question.

When we got back home I popped upstairs and caught sight of this photo, which is of me and Milly, my fourth daughter. It was taken on the day of her christening and I can remember the moment it was taken. These days she has thick, long, wavy, gorgeous ginger hair, so it's funny to look back and remember how, for so long, she had barely any hair at all.