HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD

I am just back from a whistlestop tour of the Home Counties, visiting friends, family and some old blogging contacts.

In London I went to see a concert in Regent's Park by a Brazilian jazz band, and of course it bucketed down. The band, who were called "Samara" featuring guest Brazilian vocalist Jandira Silva, and Colonel Gadaffi on keyboards (see photo), were right up my street, and despite the rain I pulled out my travel maracas (which I always carry in my voluminous handbag) to chug along with them. Bandleader Steve Rubie invited me to come up and ting his triangle, on which, as you all know I am a virtuoso.

Muammar Gadaffi guesting with "Samara", Regents Park, 6th August

I arrived in London on the rioting weekend, although thankfully witnessed no misbehaviour, having the good sense not to overnight anywhere near a branch of Carphone Warehouse. After a short weekend in the capital I headed west to Berks and Oxon to attend a family funeral and pick up a neat bit of kit from Argos (the Reading branch remained untrashed) : an Acer One netbook. A clever little thing, it fits neatly into my travel bag, has a 10 hour battery life so while waiting for Eurostar or stuck between flights, I can log on and check my e-mails, update my blog or my Facebook page, watch a film, read the news, or see what deals are on offer on Saga Holidays. I believe I am now what is known as a Silver Surfer. Or possibly a Saga Lout.

In Reading, Berks, I decided to lay the ghosts of the ill-fated bloggers' Christmas lunch of 2007 to rest in more ways than one and took my bereaved Aunt Flossie to lunch at the London Street Brasserie in Reading, where we had a delightful meal overlooking the river that runs through the Oracle (one of the best designed shopping & leisure centres in England I might venture).

London Street Brasserie, The Oracle, Reading

I visited friends down in Sussex and was taken on a tour of the Homes of the Stars in such unassuming corners as Shoreham By Sea: Chris Evans' beachside retreat towers over his relatively ordinary neighbours, and Mr and Mrs Fatboy-Slim' s house along the coast is even more discreet, backing onto a lorry park and practically in an industrial estate. That's the way to avoid the papparazzi. In Lewes, which has the most delightful town centre, there had been some mild looting the previous weekend, resulting in the disappearance of a large number of lavender pot-pourris and several bars of organic chocolate.



I am cheered to find that the Full English Breakfast is coming back into its own. A number of Greasy Spoons are now extremely trendy - the Regency Cafe on the corner of Page Street and Regency Street in SW1 has featured in several documentaries, including Andrew Neill on class, and one episode of MasterChef 2011, not to mention in the film "Layer Cake". Carats at Southwick Beach near Shoreham was packed on a Sunday morning- it was about a 20 minute wait for brunch, but well worth it.

The combination of sea air and the smell of frying bacon, not to mention the fit young kitesurfers, made me nostalgic for the country of my birth. Brighton was kicking on a sunny Sunday in August and was full of handsome young men going about in twos. It struck me that this might be just the place for a laydee of a certain age with a gay umbrella to spend her autumn years, offering tea and sympathy to any confused young men in return for them carrying my shopping back from Sainsbury's.

Hello boys!