I was moving my body through time and space yesterday and my mind just had to catch up as best it could. The train from Brighton to London took an hour longer than its regular schedule because of work on the tracks (weekend). Since I gave up my car I have used and enjoyed buses and trains a lot. This English train was just fine and two delightful women who helped me when I needed it. Midlife mothers, one with 3 children, the other with 2, friends since girlhood, were enjoying a get-away in the city. I didn’t inquire, or talk, too much on the train because that time belonged to them. I missed Arundel Castle on the way by because the visibility was very short-range. I dozed and read and did not eavesdrop.

Well, you know the routine: check-in, unpack (I’m here for 7 days), something to eat (delicious soup), a rest, a bath, meeting the Group, champagne and a briefing (not very brief), and dinner, also delicious but very rich, plus good conversation with interesting people. So I was wiped and went to bed before 9 p.m. And that’s why my blog is blah today. I have more to tell my diary because I can fill it with noodges. Blogs are not for nagging.

Today is just barely today; I may be back before it’s over.

Brighton/Hove seem like twin cities but they are one and the same place, population 273,400 (in 2011). Hove is supposed to be the upscale part of Brighton. Sir Lawrence Olivier is quoted as correcting someone who commented that he lived in Brighton: “Hove, actually,” in his best upper-class tone. My cousins live in Hove (of course).

Today they took me to their seaside club in Brighton, the HDSA, Hove Deep Sea Anglers, founded by a policeman in 1909 to enable eager fishermen to fish out from the shingle (they call it but it’s stones) beach. Rain and wind prevented us from sitting on the patio looking out at the ocean waves, but a goodly crowd inside warmed their cockles with lager and lunch, specializing in fish, esp. fish and chips. I had battered cod and chips; my cousin Beth had kipper; Cousin Tim had grilled plaice. A well-behaved white poodle watched its owner. A caregiver withdrew a little boy whose eyes were level with the playing surface of the pool table as he watched the balls careering about, for fear that he get smacked with a shot, or maybe she was worried that his chin might drip onto the green field. I just watched and soaked up local atmosphere and hot tea with a biscuit.

After lunch we checked the local train station where I bought a ticket to London for tomorrow (more anon). Then at Waitrose (supermarket, a chain) I bough tBath Oliver biscuits for a friend in Canada (because you can’t get them there) and a couple of bottles of good French wine for my cousins that made me want to stay over and share them.

We had afternoon tea at home; I checked my mail, had a nap, didn’t help with dinner (fish pie) and talked. Maybe it doesn’t sound exciting to you but I don’t have many contemporaries left and I enjoy talking to them. At that, I’m a little older than they are, but we are the same era and we share some family memories. I loved being with them.

Tomorrow I begin the cultural pace of my trip.