EASTBOURNE: COME IN GOD’S BEEN WAITING
I had a great title planned for today’s post. “ Giving good Beechy Head”
I had it all planned. Dawn was going to meet me at Three Bridges and, as I had told her I needed a bit of physicality ( no smirking at the back there ) we were going to go for a bracing walk along the cliffs before heading somewhere lovely for lunch. Sorted.
Unfortunately, God had other plans and as we drove down towards Seaford, the heavens slowly opened and poured their contents in an increasingly fierce torrent on the car windscreen. We tried, we really did. We parked up and started to walk towards the cliffs with encouraging words like “ it’s getting a bit more clear over there” Of course, it was not getting any more clear in any way at all and after two minutes of struggling against the wind, we made the joint decision to return to the car. In fact, I think what I said was “fuck this for a game of soldiers” as I sat down miserably in the front seat and began to wring out my fetching bobble hat.
So, Plan A failing, what was my Plan B for a day out with a chum? Well, in my case, forcing her to drive me to Eastbourne and then making her walk along the pier in a force 10 gale while she held on to the side for fear of being washed overboard. I have a real thing for piers. I love them. But, for some reason, Dawn seemed not to share my enthusiasm ( strange creatures women ) and insisted we go somewhere to dry out.
Eastbourne really deserves its reputation as God’s waiting room with the oldest population in the UK. It is an ugly town with little to recommend it. A high st that is filled with charity shops and night clubs so rough looking that they think you are gay if you have any of your own teeth left. However, dipping into Waterstones and looking at a copy of The Lonely Planet Great Britain Guide found a recommendation for Qualisea, a huge fish & chip shop just off Terminus St. So, we decided this would be as good a place as any to sit, eat and slowly emit steam.
It was indeed huge but packed to the rafters with elderly couples tucking into enormous plates of Haddock or Cod & chips. We managed to snaffle the last table and ordered. Unfortunately, I forgot to wipe the lens of my camera, but, in a way, the picture just about sums up our day.
Competent enough,with decent chips and good mushy peas. The fish was a little soggy but, for £14 of Dawn’s money for the two of us with some excellent gherkins and a mug of tea, it was harmless and certainly popular with the locals as a big queue was beginning to form as we left.
By now, the weather was, if possible even worse. With tails very firmly between our legs we headed back home with only a pint in a charmless pub in Forest row to warm our cockles on the way.
Soaked to the skin and dragged down along Eastbourne Pier out of season before being allowed to buy me fish & chips. Never let it be said that I don’t know how to show a girl a good time.