Walking in the Med

A lovely walk yesterday through Clyne woods and into Clyne Gardens.

The smell from the orange blossom, I think, to the right was absolutely heavenly. I could have been walking in the south of France.

When I was about 13 my mother planted an orange blossom tree in the garden so 'you can carry some blossom on your wedding day.' She died long before I was married but I made sure some of the orange blossom from the garden was included in my bouquet.

Today the smell was less pleasant or would have been had I gone close enough to sniff the valerian, or as we used to know it, the one that smells of cat pee.

That was on Mumbles Hill. I said, 'Look George, loads of rabbit poo. Go find a bunny!'

He gave me his 'Seriously? In this heat,' look. But we both know he has no idea how to hunt rabbits. Or even what a rabbit is.

Sunday afternoon stroll in the sunshine

On top of Mumbles Hill, high above the traffic and people that flood to the village on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I think of Mumbles as being made up of different parts. The bit immediately below us is Southend; the bit in the curve of the bay with the castle on the hillside is Oystermouth. A little further on and you get into Norton.To get ice-creams from Verdi's at Southend, we walked from the hill down Dickslade, this lane of prettified old fishermen's cottages.

Mumbles Lighthouse from the hill.