British Summertime

There's one thing to be said for us Brits - the weather will not stop us from seeing a spectacle. Nearing summer, you will find us on the beaches, with waterproof jackets, wooly hats, umbrellas and an ice cream with a chocolate flake in it. Who needs the sun?

Corin drove me over to Blundellsands, initially, but there was nowhere to park, so we headed down the road, parked outside my cousin's house and wandered along to Waterloo swimming pool to get a decent spot.

It was raining, in that persistent, bone drenching, drizzly way that it tends to in Spring/Summer/Autumn/Winter. Lovely husband bought me an ice cream - he knows how to treat me well - then came and sheltered me from the worst of the elements with his umbrella. That is not a euphemism I can assure you.

We stayed for a while and watched a variety of different ships exit the Port of Liverpool, marking the end of the memorial activities for the 70th Anniversary of the Battle of the Atlantic.

Absolutely staggered by how many people were out, along the walkway all the way from Blundellsands, up to Waterloo, and then scattered across the beach up to Seaforth. Despite the grey weather, it was friendly and relaxed and good to get out.

The poor soul with the red umbrella struggled a couple of times as it flipped inside out. I felt I had to pick out that little flash of colour as it kept my mind off the chill whilst we were there.