Pies and Pride

My larder (aka the station Marks & Spencers) had rearranged itself this weekend. The big deep refrigerator which normally houses cheese and milk and a variety of chilled products was given over to pink champagne. For it was Pride weekend.

At lunchtime Lorraine and I sauntered down to the bottom of Trafalgar Street to see the parade pass by in the rain. I actually found myself quite moved by it: everyone was smiling and it was a very happy occasion. The fact that the Pride march is such a part of Brighton life and so widely supported is a cause for celebration. People since the dawn of time have moaned that things are getting worse. But I think a society where the gay police officers association leads the parade is a much better and saner than it used to be.

Nothing like watching a parade of gaudy colours to get your appetite up, so Lorraine and I went off to eat pie and mash and peas in Pokeno pies. Then after a few cups of tea at home, did a little work in the afternoon.

In the evening went to see Anton and Anna. The children adorable as usual, sliding down the stairs on their bums as we came around. Also in a surfeit of cute, Klaudia and Oskar playing with their tiny just-acquired kittens currently named Pinkie and Lenin.

Anton cooking on his big Australian barbecue - lovely Italian style kebabs that Anna had made. Lots of happy eating and drinking and listening to tunes this evening, before everyone got rather tired. Spent the last hour in the living room where the kittens are billeted, watching at their comedy fighting and being climbed on by them. Then Lorraine off in a taxi home, and me scampering down the hill.