I can’t quite remember anything like it, and I’m not talking about our mad politics. In the ten years since I’ve lived at the Parsonage, there have been some wonderful summers, and some lousy summers, but I can’t recall these endless weeks of unbroken weather, warm evening air, warmer mornings as the sun rises, swimming in the sea morning and evening.
The garden is blowsy and bursting, but is painfully dry as well.
Our normal swimming spot is at Hive Beach (or Swyre if we want a bit of a walk).
Back at home, walking the dogs has to happen early or we all get too hot.
Last weekend, I made a visit to Suffolk staying with Bridie’s friends Glen and Edgar in their amazing house. This was the view from my bedroom.
Summery Southwold for fish and chips on the beach:
Supper on Sunday at the Crown at Westleton.
The office this week has been hot; thank god for the air conditioning. Current mood: Back down to Dorset this weekend, dreamy days and the air is heavy with the scent of lilies.
We watched the football in the pub,
with Lucy and Anne Lambton.
A festival atmosphere reigned under the heat, pints of cool lager flowing.
Supper on the terrace that evening:
An early trip to the beach on Sunday morning, where the Morris Minor found a suitable neighbour in the car park.
The water is crystal clear and almost warm.
Breakfast on the terrace.
And then to lunch at Bettiscombe for Jasper & Oisin’s summer party. Here are the Hursts, antique dealers extraordinaire, talking under the trees. Tom Hurst has just left school and is going into full time dealing (you can see his website here).
The party tent provided much needed shade, and the trestle tables were generously laden with delicious food and drink.
As the afternoon shadows lengthened…
A swimming party grew at the pond.
Charlie going in…
The water was warm and deliciously muddy, as dragonflies darted around.
And the sun drifted over the long dry grass in the meadow, and it felt as if this eternal summer can never end.