Dead Slow

A trip on a bus in Brighton. No, not the open topped one - the No7 out to the Marina. An impressive but strangely soulless place, apart from the small part where there were a few local fishing boats. No shortage of shit big motor-cruisers for sale. And everywhere, the smell of sunday lunches being cooked up by the score; every chain eatery in the country had their outlet.
What a relief to get back into town and sit upstairs beside an open window with a cup of tea! So, later, back up the tracks to Gatwick. A swift pitcher, and it was time to board.