The great British summer.

I have a confession to make. I've never barbecued. I've been to a few (though not that many considering how we Brits love any excuse to don an apron al fresco), but have never actually taken it upon myself to stoke the coals.

Now some of this reluctance might have had something to do with never really having had a garden (except briefly during my final year of undergrad, but all I remember of the garden that summer was the loud rave music coming from the strange neighbours and the endless task of attempting to memorise the finer details of 18 Shakespeare plays - not much room for flipping veggie burgers as you can probably imagine), however, we did have a garden last year, and even a few sunny days (though it seemed more like sunny half hours to be honest) and yet the snail-infested barbecue was left to its own pestilent devices and the disposable grills never graced our decking.


Until now!

Yep, we finally broke and decided that barbecue time had rolled around. It'd been a tense day of cricket watching (frankly, all days being an England fan are tense due to our remarkable ability to invent a sport and immediately become rubbish at it) and the Pimms had been flowing, and suddenly I get the bright idea to hunt out a disposable grill that a friend had donated, fire it up and whack on the veggie sausages, halloumi and courgettes.It was of course thoroughly overcast and blowing a gale, true British barbecue weather, but hey! that's what it's all about, and didn't detract from tasty veggies on grilled bread smothered with homemade ketchup.We've got three grills left. It's going to be a tasty summer...