A bit of a breeze this morning.
Within a minute of arriving on the beach Sophie's fur reverts to its 'natural' look.
Heading back to the car we have to navigate through town and all sorts of 'delicious' odours. The dustbin men haven't been yet . Sophie is in seventh heaven. Our progress past the rows of bins is slow. Each bin seems to be a veritable treasure trove of scents. Could a day get any better than this ?
We stop off at the small Italian espresso place. The family diva, who is now greeted by name, is given a sliver of shortbread. On the other side of the road the staff are getting the pub ready for the ten o'clock opening. With the students gone the pub is a home away from home for Australian and American golfers who like a pint of ale - or two - with their breakfast. Seems that all males when they travel in groups revert to being eighteen. Forty nine years ago Angus used to start his day with a pint and a steak pie in this very same pub. After meeting 'The Font' this routine quickly changed.