Bloody Littlehampton
Sue came over from Italy last weekend for a get-together in Brighton in memory of our friend Keith Ramptahal. We stayed in Littlehampton in a tired B&B and on Saturday I went for a run along the coast to Angmering-on-sea.
It was a very English scene on which to reflect about "Brexit" and this very peculiar little country that I come from. There was a strong breeze behind me as I ran past neat semi-detached houses, across meadowlands and into secluded private housing estates. Lots of tidy white people were walking their dogs plus the odd man in a cheap tracksuit nursing a can of strong cider.
The return run was hard work in the face of the wind and I began to resent it as I plodded on with a forward lean. Bloody wind, bloody Littlehampton, bloody country, bloody brexit.
It was a very English scene on which to reflect about "Brexit" and this very peculiar little country that I come from. There was a strong breeze behind me as I ran past neat semi-detached houses, across meadowlands and into secluded private housing estates. Lots of tidy white people were walking their dogs plus the odd man in a cheap tracksuit nursing a can of strong cider.
The return run was hard work in the face of the wind and I began to resent it as I plodded on with a forward lean. Bloody wind, bloody Littlehampton, bloody country, bloody brexit.
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