keep the home fires burning

chop me some broken wood
we'll start a fire
white warm light the dawn
and help me see
old satan's tree

The sun sets quite late at this time of year, of course. As Mrs Dave and I sat in the garden watching the family of swifts screech overhead enjoying the plethora of flying insects that none of us can name, feeling the last vestiges of heat from the sun and our tiny chiminea and supping the last of the wine, we pondered something that even Mrs Dave accepted as "a good question". More of that later.

The day started well with the sun suggesting that it might bother to poke its head out from under its coverings and offer us more than a glimpse of what could be. I wandered about - not too difficult as our garden is so small an Action Man couldn't get lost in it. We've never had any luck growing strawberries but this year Mrs Dave decided that actually, although she said we wouldn't, we would anyway. And they've managed to produce something. A small bowl like this won't (most likely) excite many but this is a first for us! With a couple more added ten minutes later - we have a small

crop of strawberries. Despite not having any need to buy salad for nearly three weeks, we have mostly managed to grow Nasturtiums. It's a good thing they're edible. We've lived in this house for something like a quarter of a Century. We're used to the vagaries of this tiny town house garden and the salt from living two hundred yards from the sea. It's just great that stuff grows. This year we've also managed to keep all sorts of things growing. Although it's like a bonsai approach, I'm getting a lot of pleasure out of the little daily pleasures afforded to us: strawberries, nasturtiums, mint, salad and small peppers.

First born needed to be taken to Colchester train station to start her holiday properly. By that I mean she needed to leave the family home and start catching planes and visiting European cities. So, after four days home, it was time to get off on the real trip. Off to Hyde Park, then. Mrs D.suggested that she could make her some sandwiches. I was immediately put in mind of my first Hyde Park gig. 1970, I believe. She's off to see the Stones but I went to see Pink Floyd. She will see them as they wind down their operation, I went to see the Floyd as their star started to rise. I must have been all of 14 years old. I still can't believe that my mother thought it was okay to let me go. A packet of cheese (possibly jam) sandwiches - which was probably all we could afford as she had to provide my train fare too - in my pocket and off I went. This is where the kindness of strangers comes into play. There were some older lads from my school - I was a very lowly third year (Y9 in new money) - and at least one of them took pity on me. After the incredulous reaction that, yes, my mum HAD let me go - look, she's made me some jam sandwiches for Christ's sake -  they looked after me for the day.  Which is pretty good, really, because a 14 year old kid in 1970 was a much different beast to a 14 year old kid in 2013. But, for now, we'll let that go.

Where were we? Oh yeah, after sitting taking in the last few days, we relaxed and thought of how we've just got a week (and two days) left until we finally get to relax for a few weeks. And then it all starts up again. . . but whilst we chatted idly, a point of order reared its (not ugly) head. Having sat and enjoyed the barbecued food I wondered  when we, in England, first started to eat barbecued food. I can't remember my parents EVER having a barbecue. I do remember that at the start of the 1980s many of us were having them. Who introduced them and when was YOUR first barbie? I seem to think that the Galloping Gourmet may have been our earliest introduction but that could be so wrong . . .

Answers please . . .

Still, we sat by the chiminea until Mrs Dave needed to go and read a book for her Reading Group (ironically enough The Slap which starts at a barbecue) and I thought I should go and write this and then watch A Field in England.

All in all, then, another quiet night in England. I may wander out and sit quietly in the garden drinking the Mescal First Born brought as a present from Mexico and listen to some mellow music. So, we have two projects here: your first barbie and what music would be a good soundtrack for a quiet late night chilling out on a lovely summer evening?