I've been writing these blogs in a frankly lovely little pub in Rottingdean, near Brighton. It's about 30 minutes cycling (including peaks and troughs on a bike stuck in first gear, so I look like a hamster in a wheel) from where I live. Very enjoyable though. After the promenade ends, the cliffs come in to view, which is beautiful. There not as white as the Dover ones though. More yellowy, like the ones on the French side of the Channel (or Manche, if I ever wanted to annoy people). Still pretty though. And quite high (if my prematurely aged lungs and unfit calves can be believed) at that.
Cycling over the cliffs is a great way to spend an otherwise futile day. The skies are unforgivingly blue and the horizon is endless until it blurs before you could see Brittany. Yet, due to it coming in from the south, you can barely smell the sea.
I made it to Rottingdean, a lovely little village. I was walking along the High Street, looking for an ATM machine. I walked along the entire length of it, bike in hand, just enjoying the narrow streets and old, endlessly renovated houses (a couple of them going on at that very minute) and missing the ATM machine all together. Only on the way back did I find it. I went into a tiny little pub, opened my laptop and started typing. After 3 minutes the barman said: 'Oi! Aren't you forgetting something?' which admittedly, I had. By I did enjoy it there. I started writing straight away and got a half-pint of Sussex Old Bitter (a half one mind, no need to go mad) to help me along.
I wrote nearly all of these blogs in the 2 hours I was there and only when the sun started setting did I leave. Unfortunately, there was more cloud around and we didn't have the ridiculous sunset of Wednesday, but still pretty good. Near the amusingly both sad and picturesque Brighton Marina (a new built attempt at Venice with more concrete), I saw a sign standing at the edge of the cliff which made me giggle. It said: Is Life Getting You Down? You're Not Alone!
Now that can only be one thing: that's the people of the Brighton Marina saying: right, we can't have more people flinging themselves of a cliff after seeing our summer houses. We are sick, sick to the stomach (in more ways than one) of having to scrape human remains off our nice tiled roofs every April because some people can't stand the sight of it, let's call the signmaker! I do have a very sick sense of humour, yes. Thank you, I do apologise.
Ah well, it's been a day. That's all I can say.
Bye!
P.S. Will keep this up more frequently in future.
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