Another place we visit at least once a year, ever since being introduced to it by Peter Lavery ten years ago, is St. Leonards-on-Sea and, by foot from there, Hastings itself. In the winter time it is a little bit dreary, but there’s still some excellent stuff to see, and to do. The latter of these usually involve fish and chips and red wine, which we always find we need after first installing ourselves in a fifth floor flat and then tramping for miles up and down various slopes. You have to remember we come from flatland Essex, and we live in a bungalow. My calves are still aching.

Here’s one of the typically Victorian (Edwardian?) streets:

The Jain technology died in this park many years ago, but this remnant remains:

Nobody told Caroline it was a Whomping Willow:

Hastings Pier, a wonderful place where once you could play silly games, buy sickly sweets, stroll out over the sea or sup wine out at a table in the sunshine. Now being left to fall to ruin while the arseholes in the council instead blow money on a modern art gallery no one will visit. The sea air may clear ones head, but doesn’t clear stupidity from the heads of council bureaucrats:

I nice little pub whose name I can’t remember right now. It has everything a pub should have, except cigarette smoke and customers (there’s a connection):