Unwebbing Sunday promenade along the seafront in fresh air. The sun occasionally picked out the bright pinks and oranges and reds and greens and blues of the beach hut doors. Or it dramatised a patch of the pebbly beach, or made the wave foam shine. Lighting is everything. Event though I still don't regard it as proper sea (which is Channel Island sea) the flat uninterrupted line of the Brighton horizon is a lovely contrast to the busy city, and the remains of the burnt pier only seems to make the space bigger and emptier. Stepping along the seafront allows your spirit to inhale. It was hard not to feel uplifted watching the seagulls in the face-numbing wind. Made me think of my Grandmother saying that the wind blows the cobwebs away. Stopped by a groyne and scrunched onto the beach to shelter from the wind, smelling the sea which Lorraine said reminded her of childhood, and we watched a boy dancing in an out of the waves in his boots and coat, totally absorbed in what he was doing...
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