I drove down to Brighton because the sun was shining and I hadn't seen the sea for a week. I have a new camera and I wanted to play. I wandered along the promenade, the beach and the pier and could feel the ghosts of the past whispering to me. I saw the helter skelter at the end of the pier and remembered the excitement of sliding down it in a scrathy potato sack when I was young.
I walked through the Lanes, past people with pink and blue hair, dreadlocks and piercings. I rummaged through vintage shops, bead shops and sweet shops and stopped for lunch in an old old pub. Scampi and chips with tartare sauce, another blast from the past, followed by soft whip ice-cream form a kiosk outside the pier.
Walking along the seafront I found a beach shop that was almost identical to the tabacchi on the beach back in Positano. Fishing nets for kids, flip flops, beach balls and fridge magnets, maybe not the Union Jack!
I nearly bought a punnet of whelks but it was so soon after lunch that I really wasn't hungry. On the way home the fields were full of low hanging mist and the temperature started dropping. The sunset was spectacular, the countryside turned orange for a while, but I got the distinct impression that here winter is about to arrive.