Hot, Punting

Back in the town, it was hot. We walked to the town centre, in the heat, to go punting in the water and, perhaps, swim.

We passed this place, which seems to have done the thing savvy children do when selling lemonade on the street, trying to make a booze shop sign cute and drunk. 

Here is a balloon in a balloon.

If only, and they've got no chance in this old money conservative stronghold.

The heat wave is genuine, albeit subtler than that in our home country.

Even the bucolic college lawns are burnt brown. What's missing is the bore water stains on the limestone.

Ye Olde Battersea Power Station, if Pink Floyd came from Oxford.

A pretty lam post.

Wall Flora

On my wanderings I have been struck by some very old walls, out of which plants and flowers bloom. These have been particularly attractive in these warm late-spring and early-summer days, where the whole town appears to be in bloom and so verdant that even the walls can't contain the lush life.

Further on we encountered an old fashioned red telephone booth, one not repurposed into a wifi hotspot (although it may also serve that function). A novelty for us and, in this day and age, a relative novelty for all.

It always pays to look up, and in this case we spied a possible soft toy suicide.