Past the buried benches of Hove

Up early for a Saturday. Beautiful day, feeling cheerful as I sauntered around the corner to buy some bread for breakfast. We dropped Beth off to the school for her Saturday job, before she returned to London, and then we walked down to the seafront. A cloudless, cool blue day and the seafront in Hove (Actually) covered in pebbles driven up by high tides and storms, and the line of benches were half buried in stones. Lots of people walking about, and even at noon casting long winter shadows. Dozens of little Lowry dogs running among people too.

Lorraine and I chatted about our plans for the year, caught up in the sunny and optimistic feel to the day.  We sat on one of the groynes with the sun warming our faces, an angler or two wrapped up agains the cold. More taken aback as a hardy middle aged couple went for a swim. The water looked unutterably freezing but the skinny man who danced down the pebbles in just his speedos and then swam for ten minutes seemed completely unfazed.

After this lengthy amble a spot of shopping at Waitrose before heading home.  The rest of the day a peaceful regrouping affair. Lorraine working on a quilt, and me toying on my laptop, while listening to podcasts, and catching up on the last episode of Last Tango in Halifax. And later, by extreme contrast, a couple of episodes of The Wire.

Surfing Facebook caught a clip that the French Bloke and Max, who live near the Thames, had uploaded of the drive from their house, now virtually an island, requiring them drive across a sodden field and flooded roads to get out.

In other news Isy and Matty boy have had their daughter Elsie this week, and Matt's sister Tasha is due any moment now.

Below a stunning day on the seafront in Hove; the stairs down to the beach disappearing into the pebbles, seaside benches, and hardy January swimmers.