On a whim, Lorraine and I drove along the coast to Seaford. It was also a scouting mission to see if if it might fit the bill should we decide to move. It is a little coastal town perhaps 10 miles east of Brighton, and has regular trains and buses back into the city -- I know six people who live there too, including Steve Cartwright, and people I met through glass: Adele and Patrick, Yvonne and Brian, and Jane. What we saw, a nice little bit of coastal shingle, and a martello tower, hefty chalk cliffs and few streets of shops, pubs and restaurants, certainly didn't rule it out. We sat on benches outside a little cafe stand, and had cappuccinos and a couple of sausage rolls in the sunshine and fresh air. Annoyingly I forgot to take any photos till we were heading back to the car.
Home and fairly chilled, though I was getting emails to do with work, and texts from Fernanda, wondering if I was ready to work again: I am not. Some of this afternoon spent prepping for recording with Robin tomorrow. I read Raymond Antrobus's book The Perseverance, a Deaf poet of blended Jamaican and English heritage who writes rather interestingly about all of that.
Lorraine cooked me apple pie tonight, a quiet night in. Although Sam is the lowest of low maintenance housemates, it is quite nice to have had some alone time.
A few not very good snaps as we were leaving. The wall in the first two snaps, is the curved wall around the Martello Tower, which is deceptive as all you can see nearby is the top with the gun on.