Thoughts from the Bus Stop

I'm on holiday. I'm still here, of course, due to lack of travel funds, but when you're already by the seaside in the middle of a heatwave, why mither? It's taken a day or two to get the hang of this 'being a tourist in your own town' thing. Having a friend from The North down to stay for the first four days has helped, as she really IS a tourist. Doughnuts and full English breakfasts have been consumed. Sunburn has been acquired. We have taken an open-topped bus up to marvel at the jaw-dropping beauty of Devil's Dyke, we have admired girdles and crimplene dresses at very reasonable prices here. We have lain about listlessly in the afternoon sun on Brighton beach, reassuring ourselves with other peoples' cellulite and dodgy choice of swimwear; we have huddled together on that beach with invited guests as the sun goes down, warming ourselves with chips and vodka. And every time we sit on that beach, we gaze at this beautiful ruin and sigh at the wonderful melancholy of it all...


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