Wild roses are growing along the beach, pink and white valerian and yellow sea poppies.

I sat and watched a lavender-lilac sunset as the sun went down in a squiggle of molten metal.

On Saturday night I went to bed with a hot water bottle and it was only meanness that stopped me turning the heating on. A brown sea was smashing in waves on the horsebridge. Ever noticed how wet the sea looks when it's brown-grey? Wind hurt my ears.

Call this June? grumbled the walkers and the beach-hut mums.

Today, we're baking in a heatwave.

Today, of course, I'm back in London. Thinking of that same turquoise, sparkly sea and a tide that has just turned and will be lapping up the beach until 9pm.

Typical. English. Summer.