It was a relatively nice weekend: Saturday was spent on the South Bank for a proper Spanish festival and half the night on board of the Hispaniola, rounding out a day fully in the realms of Latina culture.
Sunday, with the ominous weather forecast warning of a scorcher day (88F and 90% humidity), we fled from the city at 6am, heading for Brighton. Once there we boarded a friend's sailing yacht and spent a glorious day on the open sea, at times even out of sight of drab Angleterre. When we got home around 9pm, foresight paid off: I let the AC humming away all day to return to a nicely cooled home, in contrast to the sultry humidity outside.
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FAST FORWARD:
It's vacation time, starting tomorrow. We'll hop on the Eurostar to Paris, and travel down south to Villefranche-sur-Mer, where the big day - OUR big day - will be on Sunday. We heard from Emily's parents that guests are already flocking in, making a mini-vacation out of the event.
On Monday we board a plane to Rome and on to Cape Town. The excitement builds, the travel plans there all set in stone, to show Emily the lure of Africa. Beautiful days ahead in the African winter, when the morning greets us with 40F and shrouds of fog, only to burn off by noon and revealing SA's undiluted beauty in bright sunshine and pleasant temp's. Fuck England, eh?
Back around July 17th...
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