Dog days of summer

On board S/Y Bushido

Sailing away from St Tropez, I felt a bit like Lot; I asked the wife to take one last look, but Alexandra, alas, remained unsalty and very much in command. Portofino was the next stop, probably the most beautiful of tiny ports anywhere in the Med, green and very much up and down rather than sideways. I got off and began to climb a small path snaking around grand villas to the top, passed the magnificent Hotel Splendido, where once upon a time I took a German countess for a dirty weekend, and she came down with the flu, leaving me alone in the bar talking to strangers. I heard some Cole Porter tunes playing and went in. The place was unchanged and as grand as ever but for one thing: the people. Never have I seen such ghastly proles, except for the day before in St Tropez, that is.