Following my triumph at the Baftas last night (dishing out 500 prawn vol-au-vents in under an hour is no mean feat I'll have you know), I've decided to reinstate my name above the title.
Before setting off for the smoke yesterday, I went for a stroll along the prom here in the Millionaires' Playground. Glorious sunshine, heaps of visitors, no training flights, everything a seaside town should be in the summer, except in February! But being the 'living, gloating metaphor of all that's wrong with our society', you wouldn't expect me to putting up pictures of happy people enjoying themselves, would you? No, thought not. So here's what I clocked:
Rubble cleared from the recent 'conservation' of our Marina Restaurant. Builders in charge appear to be Willow Construction Ltd. It seems to have become a bit of a tourist attraction in its own right, albeit in a shaking of the head in disbelief and tut-tutting kind of way.
A bit further along, these listed buildings on Kent Terrace are in a fine old state (click on the picture to see the full gory details). How long before a puff of wind sends them the same way as the Marina? I gather the owners have been asked to tart them up, but with an outlook that includes ten acres of flat roof felt above an amusement arcade, on which someone has dumped an old sofa, I can see why there's little incentive.
The end of my stroll, and the charming vista of illegally parked foreign lorries on the Western Undercliff. Our beloved council charges them £10 for a stay in the port lorry park, but has only ever issued one ticket along here, so it's a no brainer as far as the drivers are concerned. The only downside is that there are no toilet facilities, but hey, no worries! An empty bottle of Lucozade, or a plastic bag if it's biggies, soon fixes that!
The obvious solution would be for port security to patrol this area and clamp any offenders. But that would involve one part of the council (Maritime Services) talking to another (Foreshores? Open Spaces? Answers on a postcard.) And we all know that ain't ever going to happen, don't we?