Burning of the clocks

Lorraine had a few bits of work to do today, but otherwise we took an extended lunch. A fire had led to signalling chaos and so we drove Beth off to Eastbourne, from where she is going to Switzerland with pals for Christmas. Stopped off at the garden centre to buy plants for the aquarium, food for cats and so on, and to drop some broken things at the dump and then to Middle Farm where we nosed about in the farm shop, paused to look at cows being striped by the low sun falling through wooden walls of the cowsheds. Some of them were heavily pregnant.

After fond farewells with Beth, having delivered her into the hands of her pals Sarah and Matt, off to a nearby butcher to sort out some meaty goodness for Christmas. In the evening Cath called around and we went down to see the burning of the clocks. This event always makes me cheery and proud of the creativity that is present in abundance in Brighton. Hundreds of people  in the parade of drummers, musicians dancers, costumes and of course the clocks being held aloft. It does make you mindful of the fact that the darkest day is done and the light is returning. A hopeful thought in a pagan way, and in some contrast to the guff about the Mayan Apocalypse, due today, which has been troubling silly people around the globe.

Met by Rosie for the fireworks which, after the clocks were symbolically burned, were wonderful, particularly right at the end they created a wall of gold and silver sparks against the backdrop of the dark sea and sky.

From there we four walked back into town, and settled into The Foundry for a few libations, where we were met by Matt, Wayne and Jonathan. At the end of the night I went with Matt and Wayne to The Brighton Tavern, for more revelry. Interesting conversation with a guy doing a doctorate in applied mathematics.

Below snaps from the parade marching through town, and various pyrotechnics. Click the pics to make them bigger.












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