Parnu

It was a warmish day - close to twenty in the places that were sheltered from the wind - but, still out-of-season, Parnu's beach was much quieter than I expected. A couple of joggers did press-ups on a bench, kitesurfers were out on the sepia-coloured waves, there was a kickabout on the sand, a man with a walking stick chasing after the ball, a coachload of Polish tourists took photos of the dunes, paving stones were piled by a fountain, waiting to be laid. In the beachfront pub I was the only customer; the waitress had to scribble the menu on a chalkboard before I could order.

I walked around most of the town twice before it was time to get the bus home to Riga, stopping off to take in the local football team's two-nil home defeat to a side in black and white stripes. Who knows, one day such wonders might even catch on in Britain...