For years - almost as long as I can remember - my parents searched for a place in the sun. A barefoot place, where the ocean beckoned every morning. A place where you could finish a book in an afternoon, or play three sets of really good tennis. Somewhere you could ride for hours without crossing a road. A place with a fabulous golf course unobstructed by houses. Sometimes there would be dancing, but you wouldn't have to wear a tie. A place for aunts and uncles and cousins - and, if my father were lucky - perhaps the odd grandchild. Somewhere our friends could get from Toronto or London or New York without having to change planes. A place where you could find lemons in January, and not have to do without the Sunday papers.
                                                            - Alannah Weston