Going Potty …

… As in crazy. What, you thought I was being scatological? Shows what being ’logical gets you, right?

After the Imperial War Museum, we took the 159 bus further into London. As you can see, the skies were grey. This was supposed to be a shot of D2 smiling in front of Parliament and Big Ben. Instead, her hair was blown into her face.

In 1993, I met the Mrs. in London and proposed. We went to Westminster Abbey, and Father Job, a Korean priest, took us behind the velvet rope to the altar, where he blessed the engagement ring.

Back then, that cost zero, zilch, zipcode, nada.

Today, it would cost 37 pounds for a student and an adult to visit the Abbey.

Or you could go to a service for free.

Sad, but places such as this are incredibly expensive to keep up, and Europeans don’t go to church as much as they used to.

The little barn we used to attend in Prairieville, Louisiana, was slightly less fancier than this (no joke, it was a barn).

It was a dream of D2 to be photographed in a classic telephone box. … Dream realized.

How was it?

“It smelled in there, dad. It smelled bad.”

From the smelly phone booth, we went to Buckingham Palace.

Then we took the tube home. D2 laughed at the final destination for the Picadilly line. She’s a juvenile delinquent. A chip off ye olde blocke.