During this really hot weather, it has been really wonderful to be beside the seaside. And of course, I’m not alone in my delight – Whitstable town centre heaves in summer, but the worst bits are easy enough to avoid. Just a short walk further along the prom and you come to the nearly deserted West Beach. It’s here we rent a beach hut occasionally, and I wander past them on my morning circuit to stop myself seizing up during a day at the computer. I nearly bought a hut when I first came here, flush with cash. Two years later and they are out of my price range.
Often though, when it is really hot, it’s just as good to sit in the cool shade of the garden, and I rig up a tent effect with a counterpane and the old swinging seat that has made it’s way here from Suffolk. Ludo and I spend many hours inside this shady den, pretending it’s a bus, train or plane, or alternatively in the cool garage driving in Max’s nearly completed bright blue beach buggy. Now in its third incarnation, some will remember it as the groom’s transport to Jacques wedding, Max’s love affair with this vehicle hasn’t dimmed, and has certainly been passed on in spades to his nephew.
Still, there are worse ways of spending a baking hot afternoon…….