The great British weather has taken a another dramatic turn and the melting tarmac and third degree burns meted out to an unsuspecting public has finally abated. The collective sound of whirring electric fans has ceased and driving standards have become less fractious.

Thankfully there's no sign of Patrick. He's obviously in dialogue with his duvet, sleeping off his hangover!

Last night our little cottages trembled and cowered as thunder and lightning crackled in the valley and horizontal rain lashed the windows with unleashed fury. Now a new day dawned fresh, cool and clear. A wonderful day for some plein aire painting. The Sloth and I decided to drive to Rhossilli Bay with my easel and paints and spend the day communing with nature! The Sloth exercised his spatial skills by packing the equipment into the boot, paying special attention to the little picnic basket containing a couple of bottles of St Emilion, his favourite red wine. I noticed that my bottles of Perrier were missing and dived into the house to get them. I emerged clutching two large bottles of perrier and a carton of mango juice and discovered the Sloth engaged in an animated conversation with our neighbour Angelina. Angelina is a single mother with two children. A boy and a girl of eleven and twelve respectively. She teaches art to people with learning disabilities at the local community college. Very commendable!

The Sloth is a great admirer of the female sex, believing them to be morally superior to the male of the species and often refers to himself as a 'feminist' and in that moment he was demonstrating his 'solidarity'. Angelina was wearing very short shorts exposing a great deal of tanned , long legs. 'It's a lovely day for a picnic', she grinned, showing rather long, equine teeth.
'Yes, fabulous', giggled the Sloth. She leaned casually into the boot giving the Sloth the benefit of her abundant cleavage. He is totally mesmerised by the discreet tattoo of a dragonfly on her exposed upper bosom. 'Looks like you're going prepared ', she said indicating the wine bottles. The Sloth bravely tries to keep his eyes on her face. Clearly enjoying the attention she's receiving she tosses her rather dull, mouse brown hair and pushes out her her bosom under the quivering nose of the Sloth. Flirting shamelessly in front of me.
I gave the Sloth a meaningful look and climbed into the car. He followed sheepishly, waving a limp hand through the car window at Angelina as we drove off down the road.