Disposable BBQs being banned means the end of one of the great bank-side traditions: rods out, kettle on, a few sausages slowly turning black on a £5 foil tray while you pretend you definitely meant to cook them like that.
They were never glamorous. They took forever to get going, then suddenly became hotter than the surface of the sun, but somehow they were part of the session.
A couple of burgers, a few sausages, sunset over the lake and hopefully a screaming run halfway through cooking.
Until we meat again, my old friend. 
