When I was about 13 years old, Dad and I jumped in the car in Nottingham and drove down here to Spain. Back then, this glorious spot was just a place we came on holiday, but already close to our hearts. In typical Dad fashion, I think we broke a few world records for speed and general driving prowess as we managed door to door in under 30 hours. Dad drove through the night to get us here quickly and safely, and I remember feeling like I'd missed out on some of the fun by falling asleep for a while. Because that was what it was - hours and hours of fun with my Dad. We made many little pitstops along the way, discovering, talking about and enjoying all the subtle changes to weather, landscape and cuisine - and by that I of course mean MEAT! My biggest memory of that trip though, and the one that I have cherished with joy since that day, is of the sun shining, windows down, Phil Collins blasting out of the stereo, and the two of us singing along at the tops of our voices about ´going loco down in Acapulco´, desperately trying not to dissolve into fits of giggles at the awful noises the other one was making. Dad, I'm wearing these shoes for you today because you would hoot with laughter at the idea that anyone could walk in them. I know you'll always be around here somewhere guiding us, but I kind of hope you take your eye off the ball for a moment so I trip up in spectacular Holly fashion and we can giggle together again. I'm so glad you found this place Dad, found Nevenka and found out how amazing this world could be. Thank you all for giving him the best years of his life.