It's Duck And Rabbit Season

I love me a good barbecue, especially when the meat isn't shaped like an animal. (Fish I can handle.) Yesterday, Tone did the honours. Phil brought a cooler for the beer to save us walking to the fridge and back which was my kind of decadence. Chris brought a chocolate fountain - like a fondue with added drippiosity - which was Alice's kind of decadence.

I wore trainers and a brown shirt but you could tell it was summer because I had sunglasses on. I don't really do summer clothing on account of our short summers. I did look an underprepared British fool in Miami that one time, and also those three times I played lunchtime soccer in the park in Norfolk wearing all black. But I coped with the Downend sun by taking off my socks and rolling up my jeans. Underpreparedness 1, Adaptablity 2!

You could tell it was summer by the Bristol Balloon Festival too. We didn't go but they were in the sky so difficult to miss.

Saturday was my revenge on Alice for taking me to a garden party full of her lovely friends earlier in the summer. The host told me his life story and asked me to choose a Bowie album to play so I was good. We went for a walk and ended up in the only park in Clevedon I'd ever been in before, approximately twenty years ago. (Maybe there's only one park?) The day was rounded off watching a travel video from North Korea: the background music, added by the tour company, was overtly militaristic and a camp German tourist with bleached blonde hair and Noel Edmonds' hand-me-down jumpers wouldn't stop winking at the camera.

The film ended with the spectacular Arirang Mass Games in which 100,000 brainwashed citizens prance around for their glorious leader's entertainment. Pretty though. Almost worth it.