August is a Wicked Month

It's nearly over.   But oh what halcyon times we Londoners had.  ie.  The single, sane, drink fuelled, non child carrying versions, of course.  Not the 4x4, child dropping off at small private school (in my road Goddamit), discussing the nanny and the new kitchen layout ones.  They've gone:  To Puglia or Greece or the Northern part of Majorca or somewhere wherever the middle classes congregate