Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Hotter than a match head...


           This is how it should be - almost enough to make you forget the downpours and the floods, the iron grey skies and the can't-be-arsed-to-go-out weather. Summertime at last and even if the living ain't easy then at least you can delay worrying about things for a while whilst the sky shines and you bake your skin in the  afterglow. The beach here is flooded with shiny red tourists and the Co-op is full of skinny girls in bikinis buying litres of Coke, old people have started to emerge from the beach shelters and blink into the sun and even my tortoises have picked up speed and fairly race around the garden. Its suddenly a different world out there and the sea is sparkling diamond blue - it feels like the whole country has been towed suddenly and inexplicably down to the Med for a holiday.

          Only a few more days cooped up in the office and then its time to head further West and hit the surf. Well, who cares if there's surf if the weather is this good?. Oh England it would be so easy to hate living here if you didn't do this from time to time, you're a fickle mistress.

          Something to be going on with then whilst I enjoy the nighttime heat hangover. Whether you're sitting on the terrace sipping iced martinis, staying cool in a gallery, kicking back on the sand or any combination of the above. This could have been any number of tunes but Quincy lays back that little bit more than everyone else and you can almost feel the Mr Whippy running down your wrist as you try to get back across the road to the sand....

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