Into the trees

Anton called around this morning shortly after nine, and after cups of tea and some faffing about on my part headed out into the outside world. A nearby bus stop took us on the route 17 past Henfield, where Lorraine and I had visited Dawn the other day out to Manning's Heath. The sky was dark and threatening, and the familiar sight of teeming rain confirmed we are in a drought. Luckily when we arrived at our destination it was sunny with puffy white clouds. We plunged into the countryside and walked for four hours mostly through forested areas, across a couple of fields, down idyllic country lanes and so on. An interlude of hard rain and thunder as we squished through muddy wood tracks.

Much to discuss, and the world to be put right as we walked about. Good fun, although Anton going through a particularly difficult time at the moment. Still, good to see him accelerate away from the Beware of Dogs sign like a young pup.

Eventually we arrived at a homeward bound bus stop. It bus stopped outside The World's End where we had a couple of refreshing beers and Anton ate a plate of ribs. On a nearby table an author and an editor were drunkenly banging on about Steampunk. Only in Brighton.

After calling home, squeezing Lorraine, being fed by Lorraine, off again into the night. This time to the Evening Star, where I met Richard and Fingers. Glen particularly pleased when I told him that I had fallen in love with Rachmaninoff's second symphony. Also met a furniture designer and a lecturer in fine art, so the conversation was interesting, especially with Richard slapping a beermat down and proclaiming it to be God, and commencing an ontological argument with all comers.

Home at last to Lorraine watching a detective show on TV.

Below the bus stop and a threatening sky; Manning's Heath and the start of the walk; into the trees; a chocolate box pretty house; and the view from the bus stop home.

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