I made a spontaneous trip to Brighton to see Offsprog One yesterday, setting off at 7.30 in the morning.
We sat and drank tea together, and I told her how amazing it is to sit thirty years later almost in the same spot as you have before, only this time opposite a grown up daughter. I could never have believed that this would have happened in my life and I do feel truly blessed!
We walked down to the sea, which was grey and thrashing about in fury; the wind destroyed our hairdos in seconds as we scrabbled across the greenish-yellow pebbles in unsuitable shoes.
Later, we browsed the shops. I spotted a row of lovely long pale-blue chambray dresses in an upmarket army surplus store and was about to try one on, mesmerised by the utility-button details, when the shop assistant commented: 'Perfect 1930s dresses, beautiful Nazi clothes'.
I almost threw up in disgust- what a horrible USP! The purse snapped shut and we headed off.
How on earth has it been acceptable to praise something as being 'Nazi'? When did this happen?
I drove down to Rustington to see Joby and Valex afterwards to drink tea in Xurbia, as Joby calls it. They are the only people in their Brookside not to have concreted over their front garden to make parking space for a Mega-vehicle. Joby has a motorised Trike, a splendid one, and has recently stood for election as a Monster Raving Loony Party candidate, polling 83 votes. He continues to battle with the Police and rather horrible-sounding neighbours, who object when he looks at them funny!
It was lovely to see them, and I do rather admire their suburban neighbourhood; we had a discussion about the joys of Peckham and Tottenham, and they are definitely better off where they are.
I drove back through the backwoods of Surrey, land of Rich Nimbys with micro-manicured glass verges, and felt like a peasant in a clapped-out jalopy and huge shining motor-monsters shoved me out of the way to get to their more-important destinations.
Parts of England are indeed green, and indeed unpleasant.