I nearly always drive down to Brighton when I'm in the UK. It's always cold and very windy, but thats probably because it's always winter when I'm there, but the town lures me with it's quirkiness and of course the long stretch of pebbly beach. I get a small thrill every time I see the helter-skelter slide on the end of the pier and although I haven't slid down it since I was small, I can remember the feel of the sack-cloth that I would sit on as I slid down the wooden grooves, round and round while the seagulls screeched overhead.
In the last few years the sea front has been given a complete overhaul. There are paddling pools and childrens play areas with cafe's serving hot chai and grilled sandwiches. The promenade is smooth and colourful, so inviting to cycle or skate along, and always bustling with dog walkers and people out just walking and enjoying the sea air.
I always make sure I walk by the Royal Pavilion, with it's fabulous oriental spires, just so that I can pretend for a moment that I am somewhere far more exotic than the south coast of England. It always reminds me fondly of a photograph of me and Luca that is hanging on the wall at home, taken in 2001, standing outside the Pavilion, clutching each other and laughing in the freezing gale force winds.
I spend the rest of my time wandering around The Lanes, a charmingly bohemian array of narrow streets, full of cafes, quirky shops and brightly painted buildings. You never know what you might find for sale amongst the wonderful silver jewellery, vintage clothes and organic cafes.
Alas, my day out in Brighton finished with a downpour in the most traditional English fashion so it was a quick dash back to the car and a short trip up the motorway until I arrived back home in time for crumpets and tea..

Even though it threatened to rain I decided that I was going to spend the day in the Cotswolds, a beautiful part of England that I haven't visited for years. I wandered around the quaint little villages with my Dad, imagining what life would be like living in them...
..."I don't know if I would like it," said Dad, "all these tourists wandering around peering in at your windows and getting in the way.." I rolled my eyes and replied that Pos wasn't really much different in that sense. "Oh, yes, you're right, I didn't think of it like that," he replied.
I noticed quite a lot of old fashioned sweetie shops around, with huge jars of sweets and candies lined up in the windows. We went in and bought cough candy for Dad, and sherbert swizzle sticks and sherbert lipsticks for me and Lila.
It started to rain, but it didn't matter because I saw this sign outside a tea-room:
So we ducked inside and settled down to a Cotswold cream tea with fruit scones, strawberry jam and thick clotted cream. Bliss!

I've popped over to Dads in England for a few days and feel like I have returned to civilization. I marvel over the fact that although it is cold and frosty outside, inside it is snug and warm thanks to the incredible invention of central heating. I gasp in awe as the electricity copes with the washing machine on at the same time as I boil the kettle for a cup of tea, and I must look positively provincial as I gaze around the supermarket with its huge amount of choice.

I love that fact that I can walk into a shop and just browse without some pushy salesgirl demanding that I tell her what I want. I also love that fact that I find what I want easily and that they also have it in my size. Last week in Sorrento I asked for a pair of boots "in a size 38 please..."
The two salesgirls looked at me as if I was crazy to ask and both shook their heads exclaiming, "but, no! Size 38 no!" I walked out feeling faintly stupid for even asking.

Today I shopped to my hearts content. I found everything that was on my list, including new boots in a size 38. My shopping over and done with now leaves me some free time to do whatever I want. I was planning on driving down to Cornwall, but the weather isn't really suitable for the long clifftop walks and exploring of fishing villages that I had planned. In the end I don't really care what I do. It's just nice...very nice to have some time away from Pos and luxuriate in the land of no-dubbed-films, radiators-and gallons-of electricity and french-beans-and-non-seasonal-fruit-all-year-round.

Yesterday I had planned to hop on a flight to the UK...
But when I woke up the sun was shining and the air was balmy an I still hadn't packed a bag even though the flight left in four hours time. So I sat and had breakfast, debating whether to make a mad dash for the airport or not until there wasn't enough time to get there anyway. So I spent the afternoon on the beach instead.

Everthing on the beach except for one restaurant and one bar has closed down for the season. It felt empty and a little bit abandoned, but there were a few people around to talk to. I sat on the pier for a while, comparing the difference to a month ago when it was teeming with life and boats. The sun ducked behind some raggedy clouds at one point, casting everyone in front of me into silhouettes. One of the fishermen had drawn in a crowd who stood around watching as he reeled in fish after fish. Gradually it became dark and everyone drifted home. I decided to stay just a few more days, just to make sure the season has really ended.

Some images from the cemetary in the last few days:

Just a little noisy video of the view on the way home from the back of the bike. The weather was so nice we decided to go for a drive:

The day after the rough sea. The cabins and boats pulled up from the pier had to be all moved back into place, but first we had to shovel away all the sand and stones that had been swept up onto the pier.
The sea was still too rough for the boats to go anywhere so everyone left the pier and took a walk along the misty beach.
But by the afternoon the sea had calmed down and the next day the weather warmed up and we were back in business...at least for another few days. The end of the season is near, very near.

Love letters from Lila, found in her Daddys office after she spent the day playing with some ragamuffin school friends in the cemetary.(Clockwise: 1.I love you, yes its certain that I love you, I love you.
2. I'll marry you when we're older and I'll kiss you even now.
3. I love you, Christian my love, more than the world.)

Oh dear, it's started already and she's only six...

And all of a sudden it wasn't summer anymore...Overnight the boats have vanished from the sea, the sea has become rough, the clouds have come closer and the tourists are gone.
Here's what it looked like this morning when I came down to work:

It's quite sad really when the season ends, I've even shed a secret tear or two, silly aren't I?

A few days ago everyone in town was very excited and curious when a helicopter suddenly appeared and swooped down towards the cemetary. It then hovered alarmingly close to the crosses and angels and let down a cable onto which big bulky 'somethings' were attatched and away it flew up the mountain where it deposited the load and returned for more.

Of course Luca had already phoned me to tell me that the helicopter was helping shift heavy rocks that were too heavy to be carried by man. Helicopters often are used here for transporting heavy goods to difficult to get to places, water-tanks, building materials etc.

However, I had great fun that afternoon down on the pier because of course everyone wanted to know what was happening and came to ask me. My favourite answer was that they were moving the whole cemetary bit by bit to another location...the look of horror on peoples faces was priceless.