I'm enjoying a family holiday in Sussex, in a seaside town along the South East coast of England.
The south coast is traditionally an area where many pensioners choose to retire as the temperature tends to be warmer - there is a bit of a micro-climate thing going on.
So, a pretty good place for a Pouting Pensioner
to be holidaying :-).
So, a pretty good place for a Pouting Pensioner
to be holidaying :-).
The sea promenade is lined with beach huts, which families either own or rent. They are used to set up home for a day on the beach. They look like fun.
Day 2 necessitated a walk to the Post Office. Walking to the Post Office - that in itself conjures up a feeling of a different era, a time of postal orders, shopping baskets over the arm and mongers for this and mongers for that. A time when mum knitted the cardis and Miss Marple solved the crimes.
Quite a nice feel, actually - the very act of Walking to the Post Office got me feeling a bit Miss Marple-like.
'Aver, the Photographer and SD wanted to take the picturesque walk along the promenade, a prettier but circuitous route. I argued that we should take the direct route, through the town. Mine was not an uplifting route, if I'm being honest, but an efficient one. I was outvoted.
As we walked along the sea front, enjoying the bracing air admittedly, but with me feeling a little aggrieved for being outvoted, I declared that this scenic walk was all about the journey and I have got to a stage in life where I don't have time to enjoy the journey, I need to get to the destination. Quickly and expediently. P.D.Q. No time to dawdle.
Seems that I have got to that stage in life where I feel like I need to maximise on every moment. That means getting from A to B by the fastest route.
If that sounds like an oldie speaking, well, that is what I am - and if that requires one to be bien dans sa vielle peau, then that is what I am too!
(with apologies to my French readers for any grammatical errors and for messing with their perfectly wonderful expression)
A la perchoine.
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