Eastbourne.

Eastbourne sits on the south coast of England, terribly British, terribly Victorian and famous for a mild climate that means it is retirement heaven for the golden oldies of the south east of England.

I have, and it seems I am not alone, a sneaking regard for these old towns with their shabby  Victoriana and sense of theatre. It's as if nothing is really real. It's all a bit sinister.

There's an old amphitheatre, open air on the beach.

This was the promenade very early. Gangs of mobility Scootered oldies hunt in packs.

They hunt for ice cream and toilets.

Old beach huts and the war defence station on the hill.

Groynes,  the tide move empty the beach of shale very quickly.

The old Pier, always fascinating.

Look at the comfy seats at the amphitheatre.

From this angle, the beach looks like a militarised zone.

My arty pic, under the pier.

Somebody re imagining The Cinderella Killer by Simon Brett.

                                                   
                                                              Flowers on the promenade.

residents are encouraged to walk for health, we did 7 miles fuelled by ice cream

The pier

The long beach

Only fascinated by their phones. How much do they miss?

I envied this guy.

The posh old Victorian hotels, very Agatha Christie.

Out to the Birling Gap.

Experimenting with modern beach huts.

Idea number two

A quiet moment in the peace garden

Lovely weather vane

This was a piece of art. Honestly.

Youngsters enjoying the weather, set fare.

                                                                  Proper beach huts!

                                                  The man had chips, the dog had a appetite.

                                                  Keeping a look out over the channel

                                               And of course, modern developments moving in.

I saw this and thought of Stan's swimming pool.

Why the defences were there!

Caro Ramsay, Eastbourne, 23rd August 2019,