The last guests have left, dishes in the dishwasher and we're settling on the terrace with a glass of chilled fruity white. The sun has set an hour ago, and the last boats enter the little marina below us... a serene and quiet evening. We'll call it an early night, ahead of tomorrow's dreaded flight back to London. We're counting the days when the chapter London is closed for good, and drab, smelly, filthy Britain a faint memory from another world.
En vertu de la parasols: Sabrina is studying the menu at Miami Plage, protected under a dozen of parasols, even though we had long made up our mind; about what to eat (Variations de Saumon), and everything else too... Oh, and we didn't terribly mind the cruise ship in the background either. It was another glorious day, hitting 28C.
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