Southwestern Summer Swells of 06

August: Mere mention of the words 'north shore' inspires images of the world's most beautiful and awe-inspiring Hawaiian waves, however it would be churlish to imply that our recent palm-fronded destination was other than north Cornwall. In the perpetual search for the perfect wave it might be argued, with good reason, that Trevose Head in August is perhaps a bit of a long shot. Finely curving swell peeling across the bay showed surprising alacrity despite its diminutive size. There is, nonetheless, a lesson to be learnt in everything. Paddling out in to the extensive blue calm is more of a tonic to the soul than almost anything else, and much of this was done. The day was won however by bravest of the brave, my ten year old nephew who, venturing out one morning with Il Surfero and surf-warrior cousin Jim, displayed his natural aptitude at sitting, turning, paddling and falling off whilst Mother stood rigid at the shoreline white faced and wild-eyed. Should this brief encounter inspire him further to a lifetime of surf-infested happiness than these indeed were no less than perfect waves.

'Well well well, my dear old thing...'

Friday to Sunday 4- 6 August

My thanks to impeccable hosts WB and the Dunnes. Invited to stray from his habitual southern hunting grounds your intrepid blogger ventured into the arcadian shangri-la of the Yorkshire Dales, and the saxon halls of these northern bretwaldas. Friday night fleshpots of Skipton were justly rewarded with an easy Saturday of nordic axeplay. With the anticipation of Sunday Test cricket your ever-effavescent author rose early for breakfast to witness our host (above) up and wrapped in pristine deep-pile bathrobe dispensing grannie's vintage claret down the drain at 8.15 in the morning. Somewhat unerved at this unaccostomed eccentricity Il Surfero pushed on through with trademark nonchalance and cool. Any enduring trepidation was swiftly allayed. Subsequently ushered into the VIP suites of Headingley cricket ground, and treated with true northern hospitality we savoured the finest of cricketing days gilded by an unexpected visitation from the great Henry Blofeld to boot. What more can be added - the very best of days.

The Don Bradman of Dulwich

Saturday 29th July

Once again thanks to our 'GL' for dragging our energetic author from under the duvet on one of the southwest's finest of summer days. A smokescreen invitation of sedentary spectatorship lured our unsuspecting blogger far south of the Thames to sunny Dulwich where he was swiftly projected into bolstering team membership for the Sussex Swans (the legendary Australian rules team) against the London based Antelopians. Cricketing prowess has never been finer with Samsom running amok with the bat and ball and Il Surfero sweeping the Swans to overwhelming victory with a late play over of minimal pace and bounce snatching the final wicket, (all credit to the alpargatas).

Assados, Mate and Alpargatas

Sunday 23 July.

Having survived her Cornish surf-ari our 'guapa linda' returned match with entry to the Gold Cup polo final at Cowdray. Alpargatas were dusted off and despite our cheering on of the heavily Argentine Elliston team a last minte goal in the final nail-biting chukka sprang-board the Blackbears into pole position. Disappointment was swiftly digested with the assistance of assados at the hospitality suites. A fine day.

'Drink up me hearties...yo ho'

10 July 2006.

As many of our more regular readers will know, your favourite blogger is easily entertained. Nonetheless I urge all of you able to think and speak at the same time to treat yourself to a viewing of this latest epic. Reminiscent of Eli Wallach's mexican stand-off as 'Il Brutto' I will be eagerly pushing forward Ms. Zidane to the Hollywood moguls for the leading role in the final part of this swashbuckling trilogy.

The finest of nuptials

Saturday 24th June:

Congratulations to the Verners. Summer is never summer without a wedding and I was delighted that my old and trusted friend was at last tieing the knot. Under a cloudless sky the blushing bridegroom and bride invoked the four winds and exchanged vows in the cathedral of the Dorset countryside. In pursuit was a rousing and heart-warming chorus to the third hymn, ' Tuma Mina, So man dla, Roma n na, Mo di mo'. A brief interval later our host leapt knaked into the mill-pond somewhat startling a number of the elder, and indeed not so elderly, relatives.

Southwestern Spring Swells of 2006

May 29th 2005.

A rare treat to spend a few days in the company of such an Argentine beauty. Stealing her away from her beloved beau was no easy task, however worth every minute as we sped somewhat slowly down to the great southwestern spring swells. As we can see here Mildred is blissfully unaware of the eight foot wave about to break though her open window. Looks like I shouldn't have parked on that double yellow line after all. (Team: Il surfero and MIss Buenos Aires).

Nothing like the sunshine.

Out west somewhere hot.