The past summer (2000) we found out that her "first friend" -- the two met when they were 3 years old -- was planning to get married. We weren't sure whether we could make it or not, as we're saving for a house, expecting a child, etc, but it was very important to my wife. She hadn't seen this friend in some time, and since I had only spent 90 minutes in the UK previously, and she had not been back since 1989, this occasion seemed the perfect excuse to make the leap "over the pond." We did manage to find a cheap flight -- and can I just mention that Brits know how to fly? Our 2 experiences with UK airlines, one on British Air, and this one on Virgin, were the loveliest voyages we've taken together (not sure which is 1 or 2).
YET I DIGRESS.
Since he and I had been communicating electronically for 2 years, and I knew he was in the UK, I let Renaldo know that we were planning to visit UK for a long weekend, as our plans were to spend 4 days and change, taking a room in the Guildford area. Renaldo responded that Guildford was a reasonable drive from his home in Portsmouth, and he could drive up, pick us up and take us down to "Pompey".

there his doom was nearly sealed

We planned a lovely day, early rise, breakfast, Renaldo gets us, drives us to Portsmouth, we tour around the sites, have a lunch and then spend the afternoon in the reconstituted Surgery.

the perfect day

My wife and I were sitting down to breakfast at the Jarvis Thatcher Hotel in East Horsley, expecting Mr. Malpractice's arrival any moment when the concierge came to our table with a nonsensical British telephone number written on a note paper, and a message that "your friend called; he's had an automobile accident; he's okay -- call this number"

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