Wassenaar

We hired a car for the day and headed south down to Dad’s village that he grew up in called Wassenaar. Having been here before I had some idea which street he lived in, but Patricia and I were both surprised when half way down a narrow street, I said “This is it.” I looked to my right and Dad’s house was right there. I don’t know what it was but something drew me there because we weren’t even looking for his street at that point! They were doing renovations on the house so I was hoping to bust the door open and have a look inside, all to no avail. The village was great and we went up to the beach and saw the beautiful beach resting against the violent North Sea, coincidentally, only one week later we would be looking at the same North Sea but from the Newcastle side…