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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

We went to Brighton today.

I insisted we go there because I wanted to get out of London for the weekend, I wanted to do something a little bit different with our free time, I couldn’t face spending another weekend sitting in a pub watching sports (although that is my third favourite way to pass time), and I wanted to see the sea (and the horizon) again. So Brighton it was.

We didn’t, of course, check to see that the trains would be running on time (or even at all) and so a journey that should have taken 40 minutes took three hours, but then again, we got to see a castle that we wouldn’t ordinarily have seen, I saw an owl and some rabbits and He Who Only… got to read the sports section of the paper in peace for once (save only for me, every now and again, drawing his attention to yet another hovering hawk), so everyone was happy.

Brighton is magnificent, and I would like to live there. I’m not sure that the novelty of living somewhere where other people come for weekend getaways would ever really wear off, and I could stand and look at the sea pretty much forever without getting bored. I also found the most disgusting looking sea-shell which pretty much made the entire journey worth while and He Who Only… took part in a one-man stone skimming championship in which he took away the gold medal.





I’m going to start the Let’s Move To Brighton whispering campaign again. People, please join me in convincing He Who Only… that I deserve to live by the sea. Many thanks.

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