After (or maybe during the end of) Eunice’s visit to Brighton
Often towards Hove, between the Peace Statue and the King Alfred, I’ve walked along a pebble strewn prom after a storm. But I don’t remember seeing that among the bars and restaurants along the central Brighton beach.
It was exhilarating being out - hearing all of the different sounds. So loud. The sea. The clanging of ropes on masts. The creaking of metal objects seeking to move.