Today, take a dip into poetry then a less fragrant topic

AUTUMN arrives and according to the poet John Keats, it’s 'the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

- Peter Mortimer

I confess never having come into contact with a mellow fruit, plus as I type this, the view from my window - blue skies, bright sunshine suggests we are experiencing an Indian Summer, something to which we will no doubt need to become more accustomed.

The North East coast, where I live, has thus far not had too much experience in dealing with wildly hot summers (or hot early autumns) though climate change is gradually having its say on that.

Tynemouth beach on an average summer’s day probably has one quarter of the sunbathers of those stretched out on, say, Blackpool or Brighton sands (although the word 'sands' hardly applies to the latter's stony seaside and ‘stretched out’ is a bit optimistic for those poor souls crammed on to Blackpool's vastly overcrowded beach).

You would find only a scattering of strands along the North East coast, from Berwick to Whitby, that are crowded, despite the fact this stretch of coastline boasts some of the finest beaches in the country