Seaspray
A cheery day. L booked flights on her iPad this morning for our summer holiday. General fussiness much improved after a good nights sleep today. Lorraine and I drove off to Janet's flat where a sale of her fabrics, bits of embroidery and materials was going on. The money going to Martlets. We bought some fabric, and a couple of half started embroideries, and a pair of her books about Japanese brush technique.
Madeline was there, and we had a good chat with her about various bits to do with the estate. She has worked tirelessly as executor. I like her very much, and so does Lorraine. After this, we popped around to Canhams and bought a couple of excellent pies, and went across to Caffe Nero and scored some takeaway coffees and sat in the car and scoffed them.
Then off to Rottingdean. There was an exhibition of contemporary stained glass in the tradition of Burne-Jones, in the Grange, put on by the Rottingdean Preservation Society. Lots of nice windows with painted glass, but little of it buttered my parsnips. A funny little museum there, with a weird mannequin of Rudyard Kipling at a typewriter, and various posters of old films made around there.
Leaving, I fancied a pint in The Plough Inn by the pond. A pint of Harvey's in there for me, and soda and lime for Lorraine. We strode on to the seafront, feeling sea spray on our heads from a long way away. It was blowing a gale, literally, and there were some waves smashing excitingly up and against the wall as it was high tide. (Later at home we found one of our pots on the decking had been blown off, and I had to pick a chair from the pebbles.) Lovely on the seafront though, and cobwebs banished. Walking back we bumped into one of Lorraine's head teacher pals, and then into Dipak the guitarist.
From there we paid a pound each to get into the village hall for a sale of local produce. We bought a sourdough loaf and pushed off.
A spot of shopping for food, safety goggles, and plastic craft drawers, before heading home. A happy evening. Lorraine cooked her amazing dhal, and a cauliflower curry. Pressed on with our Fargo obsession. Bed.
Below, in the glass exhibition, creepy Rudyard, village pond and inviting pub, and on the seafront.
Madeline was there, and we had a good chat with her about various bits to do with the estate. She has worked tirelessly as executor. I like her very much, and so does Lorraine. After this, we popped around to Canhams and bought a couple of excellent pies, and went across to Caffe Nero and scored some takeaway coffees and sat in the car and scoffed them.
Then off to Rottingdean. There was an exhibition of contemporary stained glass in the tradition of Burne-Jones, in the Grange, put on by the Rottingdean Preservation Society. Lots of nice windows with painted glass, but little of it buttered my parsnips. A funny little museum there, with a weird mannequin of Rudyard Kipling at a typewriter, and various posters of old films made around there.
Leaving, I fancied a pint in The Plough Inn by the pond. A pint of Harvey's in there for me, and soda and lime for Lorraine. We strode on to the seafront, feeling sea spray on our heads from a long way away. It was blowing a gale, literally, and there were some waves smashing excitingly up and against the wall as it was high tide. (Later at home we found one of our pots on the decking had been blown off, and I had to pick a chair from the pebbles.) Lovely on the seafront though, and cobwebs banished. Walking back we bumped into one of Lorraine's head teacher pals, and then into Dipak the guitarist.
From there we paid a pound each to get into the village hall for a sale of local produce. We bought a sourdough loaf and pushed off.
A spot of shopping for food, safety goggles, and plastic craft drawers, before heading home. A happy evening. Lorraine cooked her amazing dhal, and a cauliflower curry. Pressed on with our Fargo obsession. Bed.
Below, in the glass exhibition, creepy Rudyard, village pond and inviting pub, and on the seafront.
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