It is just the afternoon for saunterers and amblers on the West Cliff Green. It seems to be what Sunday afternoon is for.

By late morning a little weever fish has snuggled down into the sand at the tide’s edge. Until a galumphing great foot splashes down on it.

he white smoke wreathes and creeps through the branches of the pines like a winter fog. But the scent is acrid and resinous. And the air is hot and humid.

The two old chaps have brought their collapsible chairs out and placed them as they do every day. They cram their sunhats well on. Their dogs lie in the shade of the sycamore.

The Mediterranean Influence

The heat continues

More of the drought

The Drought continues

Normally a stiffish breeze would be annoying but today it moderates the blistering heat and lifts the scent of pine needles and bracken into the air.