I have been spending a little time browsing around on here this morning. I found something quite lovely, here http://viennarichards.org/2012/04/30/the-pure-beauty-of-this-planet/
Kind of puts the visible skies here in the UK to shame, at least where I live. The light pollution is so bad that even on my beloved South Downs at night it is hard to get a good view of the sky.
Enough of the ranting already, time to prove there is more than a little joy in thepigpen. A 15 minute stroll from our house is a wood.
I love woods, a closed and closeted environment which surrounds a soul in womb like comfort. The scuffle of small animals in decaying undergrowth, the song of birds stirring in the dank air to mark and guard their place. The open glades and denser thickets, such a huge variety of space in such a small area.
The patch of soft earth near badgers set to be avoided, the sudden dart of doe in undergrowth. The unexpected opening of the canopy reveals the raptor soaring overhead. The path leads to a small stream where Robin sings and cavorts at waters edge, the unexpected sight of a house.
A perfect day whatever the weather.
Following our meal The One and I walked to the seafront and along the promenade. The sky was stunning, warm breezes caressing us as we wandered toward the setting sun.
The poor old pier is still hanging on. No longer linked to the land, the original entry booth is to be incorporated into Brightons new attraction, the name escapes me but it will be a metal column with a platform that goes up and down so a view of the city can be obtained. That assume’s money can be found. They couldn’t fund the pier restoration so what hope? Silly me, I forgot, it’s new and will make loads a dosh for someone.
The One thinks I am obsessed with the pier, it is true I will often take a picture of the pier when I go to Brighton,
but last night I loved the light sky blue pink, behind the pier.
This shows the now destroyed deck supports. We walked West toward Hove the setting sun was in our face, the promenade, not busy yet with summer crowds, a pleasant place to be. Normal people having an evening stroll / cycle. Even the hoody homeless squatting skating boarding sub culturite’s were out taking the sun and air. The world, at that time, in that place, exuding peace and love. Beach barbecue’s in swing (ugh burning animal fat) but good humour abounding. A street drinker wandered toward me, I recognise him. I have seen him being angrily aggressive at the sky for being there, cold and damp. Not today, drunk as a skunk, can in hand ‘Good evening’. I respond ‘Hi how’s it going’ (the English Que Pasa? perhaps). We move on.
A little further and we turn back to the station, but not before I see the rotunda has a sign beneath, “Open”, I had never seen this before, a cafe bar, open and inviting, a destination for another day.
As we walk back along the road side, motorcycles scream, cars dump their valves. The Grand still stands despite, Patrick Magee, the mayhem veiled behind the blue lighting of the facade. Will Brighton ever really forget that day and will PIRA really change its spots?
The lights, like strings of twin pearls hark back to an older age where smart ladies with their gentlemen escorts would promenade after supper, parasols idly carried for fashion. Long gone the fashion for pearls and parasols, but the evening walkers, joggers continue the tradition of post supper perambulation nonetheless.
A final look back to the Pier, with moon above and lights below;
before plunging into the little streets and backwaters of The Laines. Full of life, but not too much so tonight. The whole of Brighton seems to be dozing after the exertions of the day in full sun. Even the pubs seem quite and relaxed, no frenetic energy, rushing to the next thing, it might be better. The Seven Stars, a Jazz band warming up, alas no time to stop and listen.
back to the station and homeward bound. A stunning evening in this jewel of the south coast. Not the sort of thing I would usually say as I consider Brighton, generally, a bit of a carbuncle on the rump of the planet. Just shows how wrong you can be.
The photo’s are courtesy of my Google Nexus One.
Okay, I accept that the last image was less than inspiring. I was trying to get something out there as I hadn’t really written anything for at least 20 minutes. I have now exorcised that particular demon and so thought I would share this. Not taken today, but some little time ago. It is either a jet propelled balloon with its con trail, or it is what appears to be a heart shaped cloud with a pimple.
The day was warm and bright, I remember the chirupping of crickets (is that the noise they make?). Having spent the last 8 months in the cold and damp, it is England after all and the rain is what makes this ‘Green and Pleasant Land’, I long for a bit of sun and heat.
I am beginning to find that sitting in my polytunnel does provide a little extra warmth but my coffee mug still steams. I am hopeful of a full blown spring as some flowers are starting to show in my particular piece of eden. A small pieris and a few daisies is all it amounts to though. Give it time, soon it will be a riot of colour, if the wind and bugs don’t get there first.
fromthepigpen 