New cafe

Calliope woke me ridiculously early because she was bored. An amazing hot sunny day.

This morning Lorraine organising a safe driving course first thing, as the cameras on the main road at the end of ours caught her speeding by 6 mph. Her street name round these parts is Lozza the Offender. We walked into town, and L the Offender went off to deliver Rhyme Time to toddlers and their carers. 

I sloped to the Lanes Eatery, a cafe across the road from the graveyard (dead centre of Seaford etc.)   I think this may be my new cafe, with a scattering of people in it at that time of day and enough room to find a corner to write in. Luckily I was far enough away from the geezer blowharding to his wife about politics not to be disturbed. But as the general election is hurtling towards us, this only to be expected. 

I saw a tweet today with a picture of a pint of milk with a best by date of 5th July. The poster said it is now possible to buy milk that will outlast this Tory government (the election is on the 4th). All the polls and the news and podcasts I listen to suggest the Tories are doomed. So much so Labour is worried about people thinking its a done deal and not voting. I am far too superstitious to start celebrating yet. Sunak has had an absolutely dismal campaign so far, a catalogue of hilariously unforced errors from announcing it stood int he pouring rain, right through to this week where the discovery that Tories have been gambling on the date of the election and so on. The hilarious thing is that although some of them knew it and placed bets, Labour noticed an uptick in betting for July 4th and immediately went onto a war footing, bought all the advertising space and so on. 

Anyhow, nursing a large Americano with oat milk, sparkling water and a blank layout pad (just as if I were doing advertising concepts) I took a bit of a helicopter view of my Origin Stories collection and it was a very fruitful session indeed for an hour and a half. 

Fresh from Rhyme Time in the newly refurbished children's section of the library, Lorraine joined me and we had another cup of coffee and some spinach and feta pie. (Lorraine asked if this was spanakopita to blank looks) and chatted through next steps of Pat and Maureen's move. A spot of light shopping and then into Gallery Uno where a silversmith artist who was a former teacher stood Lorraine in a metaphorical wind tunnel talking about Education. Reeled out of there with a present for Olivia, one of Beth's besties, who is getting married soon, into the Estate agents re Pat and Maureen's move.

Home, and a bit more writing, generally hanging out with Lorraine. Off for another walk this afternoon. The beach more crowded than I had ever seen it. Still absolutely nothing compared to Brighton. Strong colours leap out at you in this light. A heat haze. 

Hungry when I got home, and we had a chicken and black bean curry. Very nice. Lorraine and I began reading aloud perhaps my favourite Narnia book tonight, The Magician's Nephew. Something about reading a children's book last thing at night is very comforting.

Below beach buts in the blue.