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London revisited: The daughter's side of the story

So here's what happens. My dad asks if I want to go to London with him, and I say, "Sure, chap, totally," and before I know it, I'm walking down this London street, Gloucester, which is pronounced Glowster for some reason. Like my dad, this whole country has a bad case of the mumbles. "It's pronounced Glow-ster," he says when I bungle it the first time. "Are you sure?" "Glow-ster," he says, sounding vaguely Russian. Now he wants me to write a column for him about our trip to London, giving my side of the story. Well, here you go, Daddy-O. God save the king. First of all, you have never seen so many sickly looking people as here...