On the coast

Yesterday I was in Brighton to see one of my favourite poppets, who is suffering from a flu following a run on the downs in such extreme cold that 2 runners went down with hypothermia. My taxi driver from the station complained of the Green MP Caroline Lucas  and counci, whose leader has the splendid name of Jason Kitcat. They have limited speeding to 20 mph, though everyone ignores this. He told me business has left,  like Rayners optical manufacturers, and new enterprise put off. This is problem of  a protest vote, low turn out (23%) and one issue governance.

As my friend was bed-ridden, I made alternative arrangements and saw some friends in Hove. Hove actually is the posh end, and walking along the promenade you could tell immediately where Brighton ended, with restaurants and cafe for the trippers, and Hove – with hardly a bench – began. You cannot own a beach hut, some of which were blown down, unless you are a Hove resident. On a glorious day we sat on the balcony and you could have been somewhere in Florida.

With a fast train service under an hour, I might even buy my fourth home here.