The lovely weather during June and July has been much enjoyed by sun worshippers. Gardeners, chaps working in boatsheds, many with steel or asbestos roofs, owners of boats with wooden decks, may have other opinions on dawn to dusk Mediterranean sunshine. We have all suffered, our flower borders in the marina began to resemble the Sahara and we soon grew tired of the watering ritual. The Boatshed became so hot it was rather uncomfortable, the only remedy was to start work at 5 am and finish about lunchtime. This at least gave me time during the afternoon to throw water over my decks and stop them from drying out.

This gave rise to another problem, what do you do with yourself in the middle of the afternoon having exhausted oneself sluicing the decks? Why! you need to sit in a chair upon said deck and observe the world drifting by. However, the relentless sun bea down and burnt my scalp through my straw hat. Bimini top I thought - need a Bimini - must fit a Bimini before the sun discovers its not supposed to shine like this. Quick, into the shed, burn the midnight oil. Sweat buckets in the heat welding up a stainless frame. Fit frame, alter it a bit and drag out an ancient cover. A cut here seams here, stitching there, Eureka! We have a Bimini top and the sun is still shining.

The Mate descends upon the local Sainsbury to top up the Pimms department then invite’s all and sundry for drinks and nibbles on the fly bridge under the fabulous Bimini. Oh no, the wind is getting up, 26 knots the instrument says. What is that black cloud over the marshes, oh no it cannot be rain! Whoosh, down it came and in seconds the Bimini developed huge bags between the irons. Inquisitive fingers reach up to touch the ballooning fabric already sweating with the pressure of water above. “Do not touch the top” cry the middle aged ex boy scouts, too late, streams of water come down diluting Pimms, soaking the nibbles and causing the lady’s mascara to run. A disaster.

The heat has gone and the first mists of autumn are swirling on the river. It’s time for a holiday. We are going south till the butter melts, get some use from the Bimini, and hopefully finish off those bottles of Pimms.