Malta

He and mum bought a lovely apartment in Qawra in Malta - cool, solid and quiet, with an amazing view and location.  It was where we had some of our best holidays: lying in the sun, playing in the pool, tennis at the posh hotels (the Dolman and Hyperion as it was then) and sitting on the balcony looking out on to St Paul's bay and the islands across the bay, eating delicious fresh food. Some more memories...

 Fabulous bread - a near indestructible crust and chewy texture - one of his favourite missions was to get the bread in.  Driving up the coast road with my dad, windows down, arms out and loving it.  Walking along the rocks to Qawra point.  Going to the Gileru for dinner - a smart seafood restaurant shaped like a ship. Going on the roof to watch (and hear) fireworks that would probably be illegal in most countries not at war. Listening to BFPO. The Toulouse Lautrec posters in the apartment.  The Maltese numbers racket.  Medina Glass (the green stuff that looks like solidified snot). Peter the Potter. Taking a slow motor boat to Comino and running aground. Hats. Marsovin wine. Huge burgers at the Dragonara after learning to dive. Going to Valletta and admiring the scale of the natural harbour. Coke and 7-up.  Fixing the cooker (many times). Painting the coffee table black.
Everything easy, happy and exciting - I don't know whether it really was, but that's how it seemed to me, and I guess that's what good parents do for their kids.