picnic season

The sun has come out in Brighton and the city seems much changed; it's proper sun and proper heat, but best of all the city is bathed in proper light, meaning that everything looks rather beautiful. St. Anne's Well Gardens, particularly, was a delight this weekend, and I went there twice, first for a breakfast on Saturday morning - where I watched the dogs leaping over each other with joy - and again yesterday, for a lovely lazy picnic with a few friends, including the brilliant Ali, who I'd not seen for ages. We did our best to play up Brighton as a city of constant sun in the hope we might tempt her back down from London for good, but I think she remembers living here well enough to remember it ain't so. She's back in Brighton next week too, which I'm very happy about.

Wisely, half of Brighton had the same idea as us, so the park was full of people lounging around, and only the rampaging kids and frisbee-throwers were a nuisance, like contstant wasps. Ali glared murderously at the former, I stared coldly at the latter, weighing up things to call them should a frisbee stray too close. The group next to us had a solar-powered record player, which I was much taken with, although not so much by their music choices. I curled my lip snobbily and cranked up my own iPod, although Dan in turn bristled at my choice of a Carl Craig tune, and conjured up a sneer of his own. We had a few beers, some white wine, bread and olives, and rued the inevitability of returning home.