And the summer.
For how long, who knows? It’s a Monday, so I can style it out as the actor’s day off.
Lou knew I was knackered from all that Joy. She had a load of skirts that needed making, but for today she let the work get backed up so we could chill out properly.
Out in the morning and I grabbed a quick beard trim from the cash-only Turkish barbers in Kemptown. Respect. They can take bank transfer too, but I love that they keep the cash economy going in this little pocket of Brighton. I bought a Big Issue with the change. Nice guy and I’ve always had no cash before. We really do have to use cash, to take cash with us, to try to pay with cash. It is another form of freedom from these insidious bastards.
I paid for my coffee with Amex. We drove to Ovingdean and parked by the incredible St Dunstans – a home for blind veterans with good grounds and wonderful facilities. They’ve got a sensory garden. They do archery for the blind. It is known for being the most kind and wonderful place. We are so lucky in this country to have places like this that still exist. Thoughtful people of the past, governments not riddled with corruption. That was then. “Fuck it, let’s turn it into flats and put the blind up in some modern place that isn’t prime real estate. We can say that the handrails are the wrong height or some crap like that.” That was the recent decision. It’ll be empty next year, and full of IKEA furniture and hipsters by 2025.
I didn’t let myself think too much about it. I just lay on a stretch of beach nearby with Lou. I went paddling. Worked on my aesthetic skin damage. Then drove back to Brighton and went to Beachbox for a summer sauna. Dips in the sea, heat and plunge. Cucumber water. Pampering post panda.
Fika flogged me a hot sandwich and we nipped over to the fresh fish place round the back of Fatboy Slims, and bought a Gilthead Bream and the obligatory samphire and scallops. Then I wandered over to the back of Hove Lagoon to see what the hell some people were doing:
Wakeboarding. Good God. I hadn’t heard of this one. It’s absolute bobbins. I’m gonna do it. I stood and watched for a while in a mixture of delight and abomination. Take the shittest bit of snowboarding – the T bar. Add to it an aspiration towards kitesurfing but without the elemental chaos and risk that makes it look so beautiful and appealing. Now remove the freedom and force everyone to wear helmets and wetsuits and probably fucking armbands. What have you got? £120 for three starter sessions. Wakeboarding. I’m going next week. I’m gonna love it. I’m thinking of it as a gateway drug to Kite surfing. As a long term adrenaline addict I’ve been lucky to keep myself intact so far, and I’m neither as young or as fit as I used to be so fuck it, let’s go do Thomas the Tank Engine of Watersports and get dragged around in circles for a while wrapped in cotton wool. I might inadvertently get a little bit fitter in the process. Accidental fitness is where it is at.
Not today though. Today we ate buttery bream, lounged around, did the i-ching about a decision I have to make, and now it’s time to snooze. I can break my ankles and drown myself next week.
AlBarclay 