The September months here in Sicily have been wet to say the least, even if the temperature is still warm. The streets have been overflowing with water, Etna has shrunk to a vague gray form hidden behind clouds, and the streets are deserted as locals stay away, partly through choice and partly because the motorway had collapsed so no one could go anywhere. Or if they had gone anywhere, they could not get back.
Yet credit where its due. The few remaining Brits who have arrived on holiday to this period of inclement weather, have done themselves proud, especially when you consider that the weather back in the UK has been sunny. A beach side holiday is what they came for, and that is what they are getting. Whilst no self respecting Italian would be seen now within a mile of the beach, the Brits are there, in the sea, swimming, splashing, alternating between the shelter of sea front cafes or ice cream shops, and the sun beds as the showers come and go, sandals and shorts wet, but determined.
Of all the images that remind me of home, and make me nostaligic, it is this attitude of 'lets make the most of it' that I miss. Although you can't help feeling sorry for them as they get off their tour operator coaches to find themselves knee deep in a puddle of water... All that is mising is a wet bag of chips and a bus shelter and it could be my home town of Morecambe