Ok, let's start to address the back-log in blog-blog. Chronologically.
First stop of the summer holiday: the Isle of Sardinia. Ostensible purpose: attend wedding. True purpose: frolicking.
Highlights:
1) Ferries. Lounge music, cocktails on deck, and spacious cabins, or at least on the trip to Sardinia. Coming back, we seem to have caught the boat to 1972. Stingy barmen, rubbery food, undulating wood paneling, windowless cabin.
At sea, one must make one's own fun.
2) Chez Noel. A beautiful-but-bizarre Belgian B+B, found by La Pam. We rejoiced at fishy lunch under shady Karib tree and proximity to the beach. We smiled politely at owner's shady tales of trading tobacco in the Belgian Congo. We ignored the other guests.
3) Beaches. Beautiful, beautiful beaches. Azzure seas. Also tourquoise ones.

Strange fish.
The Panda turned dune-buggy.

4. Fish on a plate. Mmmmmmmmmm........ Whale-sized portions.

5. Oh, yes, the wedding. Well, actually it was a bit horrid. Poorly planned, poorly executed. We were, in this order, hot, thirsty, bored, thirsty, drunk, bored, drunk, drunk, ashamed, in pain.
A listens attentively to the 17th speech of the evening:

En route to the reception, the bride and groom are waylaid by a group of locals:

But at least we looked good:
The moral of the story is this. Only go to destination weddings. If the wedding flops, at least you still have the destination.