We're not in Bournemouth ...

...nor even in Kelvingrove park, where police apparently had to spend this hot day breaking up groups of sun seekers  who seem to have forgotten there's still a virus killing people. We were both busy this morning - and we'd had an absurdly late night last night, so it was hard to get going - and we had lunch in the garden before deciding the coast would be less sticky than our own little sunspot. Never folk to drive straight to a beach and plant ourselves on it, we parked a mile or so away and walked along the shore road (saw a heron taking off, and a whole colony of ducks) to the Ardyne. It was quite the busiest we had ever seen it, especially considering today was a weekday - there must have been three couples and a larger family group with children and a dinghy. We met a couple we've not seen since lockdown began - he'd been in swimming - and paddled and chatted in a distant manner. 

I took the blip for today on our way back along the road, as the tall cumulus began to form and we wondered if we'd have a thunderstorm. There's a weensy bit of colour interest in the big digger that's parked near our car - it's been there for ages and seems to have something to do with a new sewage pipe from the school. The temperature on the car thermometer read 34ºC when we got back to it, and only got as low as 27º by the time we were home. I'd thought it was hot ...

I would certainly hate to have been cooped up in a city flat for all this weather and during the restrictions, but I cannot imagine that I would hate it so much that I'd ever want to subject myself to the horrors of such crowded beaches as we saw reported in Bournemouth. Must be a product of my childhood holidays on Arran when a beach was "hoaching" if there was another family within 30 yards ...

I'm glad we're not in Bournemouth, Toto.