Travels with my father

Thinking back to the days before we all started flying

I’ve got a few photographs of me on my holiday with my dad.  There’s one on a stony beach somewhere in Wales. I don’t remember where: I was about a year old, wearing a woolly cardigan and staring into space while my older brothers busied themselves with bucket and spades and baiting each other.

In this one (above), we are standing outside a castle, again…