I rode the Coaster bus this morning on the South Coast of England.  Seventy-four stops between Eastbourne and Brighton.  The cost?  Two pounds!  I was visiting Sue, a friend of a friend.

There’s Brighton in the picture, offering pebbly beaches and chalk cliffs.  I sat up way high in the bus, revelling in the panoramic views.

I also spent the trip wondering at the redness of my arms.  I’d spent five hours in the sun yesterday, cheering for my favourite tennis players.  I thought I’d been smart, bringing two full bottles of sunscreen to the U.K.  And I’d applied it liberally, again and again, to all exposed skin.  I’d used the same sunscreen for years … so why the red? 

On a hunch, I looked at the bottom of the bottle: “Exp. 07/2021”  O my God … the spray has been useless for three years!  Such a vacant mind I sometimes have.

But back to the good stuff …

Sue was there at my scheduled stop, smiling like she’d known me for a century.  She suggested we visit the nearby Royal Pavilion, built in the 1880’s by England’s Prince Regent, a young man who would one day be King George IV.  He hosted lavish parties for the rich and famous at the Pavilion.  A flaring ego with an obese body.  He sounded like a pompous ass to me.

Here George’s dining room.  Cozy.

In the massive kitchen stood a replica of a typical dinner party menu.  Here’s a portion:

I counted the number of foods in the entire menu – 119.  A volunteer said that the cooking staff had to have all the items available.  If Lady Macbeth wanted pheasant in truffle and wine sauce, that’s what she got.

Here’s Sue enjoying the opulence of another room:

We had many other adventures on the day.  Sue was a marvelous host.  But my eyes are sinking in the west.  So it’s time for sleep …

I wish you goodnight