Beach hut with red roof, Rye Harbour, Sussex.
Overheard on the train from London, “Mum, stay off the vodkas this time – remember when we went to Birmingham and booked that nice Italian restaurant and you were too pissed to go. Let’s just get a kebab and go home Nana” The whole family laughed.
Rye DIY. Ancient, narrow winding alleyways. Chinese man photographs his wife in front of the picturesque timber framed Mermaid Pub in various contrived poses.
Distant camber sands full of humanity like a Lowry vista. Find myself smiling when back on the beach – cliffs of Hastings at the horizon.
It’s hot and I drink water voraciously sitting on a cliff top throne carved from a tree stump shaded under an oak tree. Sounds of the waves and squealing children. Coast zig zags to a line of wind turbines and in the far distance Dungeness power station.
Past a row…
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