I remember as a young child making the journey from Essex all the way up to West Kirby near Liverpool. My grandparents owned a fish and chip shop, which had expanded to become a general store as well. I knew that a new world awaited me: sand and fresh horizons; ice cream and soda pop. Upon arrival my grandfather had always prepared for us fish and chips, mushy peas, lashings of tomato ketchup and the fizzy utopia of dandelion and burdock, all accompanied by delicious white bread and butter! After a few days it was on to Prestatyn on the North Wales coast and the excitement of a caravan holiday: a caravan hand-built by my grandfather. I remember running through hot sand, racing over the top of the sand dunes to behold the sea. At night, after a long day in the sun and with sunburnt shoulders, I would look out of the caravan window at the pin-pricks of light from the houses huddled under the slopes of Fish Mountain.
Every good story has a good ending. Every journey has a destination. Every night has a new morning. This is what spurs us on. The hope that the King is coming. One day the King will come. This is our glorious ending and also our wonderful beginning. Keep calm, the King IS coming!