Evening fish.

After struggling and finally succeeding to find a bar in the local resort with the final stage of the Tour de France on, the non-cycling fans deserved a treat. Clare as usual had researched a surprise for everybody. A little way out of town and down a tiny unmarked dirt track was a fantastic hidden beach.
After a much needed cooling dip in the evening sea we retired to an oasis of palm trees and banana plants sitting at the back of the beach that contained a little bar. The 'dj' played Booker T and Otis Redding while the 'chef' cooked and brought us out our barbequed sardines and mackerel one slow portion at a time. Our plastic chairs would sink into the sand at jaunty angles to add to the laid back feel. Bliss.
Oh and while the kids were splashing about a dogfish swam up to investigate and stayed, seemingly as intrigued by them as they were of it.
This is just a diary entry, I'm not gloating because the weather is pretty crap back in blighty.