Samba and squid cleaning

A hot and lovely day. Up early, and Lorraine and I went off to the gym, where Lorraine swam and I had a properly sweaty workout. Then to a little market where we brought some vegetables and two squids from a man selling locally caught fish. I asked him to clean it for us. After he'd chopped its tentacles off, and pulled the body and a clear plastic like length of cartilage, from the hood (checking inside, he told us, for any other bits such as half digested sprats), he removed the skin in seconds by rubbing it with a plastic scouring pad, saying that he'd seen a man do it that way in Hong Kong and it had saved him hours ever since. We went home with a bag of tentacled goodness.

Not a day for lurking indoors, so Lorraine Beth and I caught a bus to Brunswick Square in Hove, where there was a festival with music, and various tents and stalls. Lurked about here for a while, having a drink in the sun, and listening to samba and folk music, and Beth being grossed out by a man's feet who was lounging next to us on the crowded lawn. Then after an hour or so of milling about, off to a pub to recover. Beth then collected by Laura in her eyelashed car, and Lorraine and I sauntered homewards pausing at the Shakespeare's Head as Lorraine had a craving for sausages and mash.

Home in time for football back on TV, and I watched this drinking perhaps a little more ouzo and cloudy lemonade than was strictly necessary before bedtime.

Below the scene in Brunswick Square.