A few cheekies with Anton

By bus to Brighton just after noon. Unusually, it was not pouring with rain. I got off at the Sealife Centre, and walked along the front, enjoying the crashing heavy waves, and the seagulls flocking above the hardy tourists on the pebbles. 

I cut up to The Hole In the Wall, the hidden local's pub Anton and I have managed to overlook over the years. Met Anton for a leisurely afternoon, setting the world to rights over several beers and a couple of games of dominoes. The woman behind the bar was wearing a teeshirt with skeletons on it, and I asked her about it, and she replied a bit warily as if I was trying to chat her up. As I payed for the beer I found myself saying, 'I like skeletons', confirming all her worst suspicions of me.     

We moved on to another pub, then to The Hampton where we ate some Indian street food, and played another game of bones, at which I beat Anton like a ginger stepchild. Meanwhile I heard about his time with Camino in snowy Spain, and learned about the exceptional blood pudding and onion tapas of Valladolid shaped like cigars and assorted household objects. On his return to blighty he took Anne to Manchester to see uncle John and the family, then worked up London. We had an absolute bloody final in the Victory, horrendously priced, and crowded with people watching the England put Wales to the sword in the Six Nations rugby.   

Lorraine, and a delicious curry Lorraine made awaited me in Seaford. She was watching the Big Air snowboarding at the Winter Olympics. Winter games are entertaining as they involve more airborne hurtling, rather than the dreary running in circles stuff and throwing things of the regular ones.

Below Hitchcockian gulls and visitors by the Brighton seaside.