So that was summer

"They" were right about the weather.  Yesterday lived up to its promise and the weather was glorious with temperatures here in Brighton as high as 27.  I had to go part-way into town to take the spare key to my daughter-in-law who had locked herself out and the traffic was horrendous - cars crawling nose-to-tail towards the beach.  Goodness knows where - or even if - they managed to park.  Some must have done as the late evening television news had a piece about the Trades Union Congress being held in Brighton and they showed shots of the beach.  It was so crowded you could not have squeezed another pebble between the sunbathers.  The sea looked a beautiful turquoise as well.  The crowds would have been further boosted by an enormous motorcycle and scooter rally from London to Brighton - thousands of bikes came streaming down the A23 and we could hear them from our lounge almost a mile away.

Then about four o'clock I noticed clouds building and the wind picking up.  Summer was over.  Today we have a stiffish breeze, clouds, there has been rain and there is continual dampness in the air.  Quite miserable.

But what a summer it has been.  First we - by which I mean almost everybody in the country - celebrated the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, then there were the most spectacular Olympics ever and just last night saw the closing ceremony of what are being called the greatest Paralympic Games.  We are told that these events have introduced a feel-good factor not often seen in this country.  Maybe I'm just an old curmudgeon but I have not noticed any difference in the way people have been behaving round these parts.  But it was all great while it lasted.

Which is pretty much what I said about ast night's dinner.  And I mean it: it was thoroughly enjoyable.  A delicious roast gammon cooked with a honey and mustard glaze and accompanied by roast potatoes (of course), carrots and runner beans donated by a fellow Lion, washed down by a glass and a half of Ventoux.  This is a fairly light red wine we discovered by chance and only costs about 3 euros a bottle.  Dessert was home-made profiteroles.

It always seems a little odd when I eat profiteroles in France that they are filled with ice cream instead of the cream which is used in England.  But then, the French don't use cream in quite the same way as we English.  Confectioner's cream in their patisserie but only Chantilly squirted from a bottle on desserts.  I have heard it said that the original French name for profiteroles was nuns' farts but I can't swear to the truth of that.  Anyway, on that high note we will move on to today's picture.

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The most famous bridge in Venice is, of course, the Rialto and today, our last in this city, we have a picture of the Rialto.  But not the standard shot taken from a boat in the middle of the Grand Canal.  Any fool can do that.  My picture shows a Venetian ambulance by the Rialto.