We had an interesting weekend, to say the least. My chum Steve, who was the founder of Electromind, the consultancy which fronts my work, turned 50 last week. So we got invites to his party in Haywards Heath. While HWMBO isn’t particularly forward when it comes to meeting new people, he agreed to come. When talking about him with Steve, I used to refer to him as “the War Department” and Steve asked whether he and his wife would ever meet The War Department. So I insisted that HWMBO come along, and I think it did him good.
We checked into a good hotel in Haywards Heath (from now on abbreviated to HH) called The Birch. It was built around a large mansion, but it now a Best Western. The room was a bit small but had a good sized bathroom for a hotel. We got a taxi around 7:20 pm and got to the party in 10 minutes.
I only knew Steve’s wife Anne and his son Geoffrey and his daughter (whose name escapes me now). Several old chums from my chequered past dropped in, but most of the partygoers were people who were Steve’s family or friends, so we sat in the corner absorbing food and drink. Most of Steve’s presents were booze (so what else do you get someone turning 50: they will be drowning their sorrows for quite a while…) but we got him a £50 Amazon gift certificate, which I thought was appropriate and which was gratefully received.
The next day, we took a train from HH to Brighton. The ticket prices were exhorbitant (£4.50 for a 5-stop trip) and when we got to Brighton, we bought return tickets from a machine, which was even more exhorbitant. The machine had no facility for taking account of one’s possessionof a Railcard, which means we paid probably about £10 more than we should have. I was stubborn and bought the tickets there rather than stop and go to the counter. HWMBO was cross and we had an awkward hour or so in Brighton.
We started out by sitting on the beach. The insides of my lower legs are sunburnt in fuller testimony of this. We then walked around, HWMBO bought a CD, and we had lunch at a delightful Italian restaurant in central Brighton. Unfortunately, the service was glacial, but the mozzarella tricolore was the best I’ve ever had.
Then we walked over to the Marina area. On the way we caught this picture, taken from the top deck of the breakwater:
I hope she wasn’t fishing for the convent’s supper.
Walked back to the train station, and by now I was very slow and limping a bit. I am getting old and this is a source of great concern for me, because HWMBO is a brisk walker. I have decided that I will just walk as fast as I can at the time and if he gets out of sight, he’ll just have to wait.
Nice photo! It reminded me of a similar scene, not quite as salubrious, of some “down-and-outs” fishing under the bridge near the Embankment tube station.