Only sex with bexhill ladys
Purple clouds drop columns of blue rain out on the water and as the sun drowns in flames the scene becomes Turneresque. Leonard’s, recommended by the American lady in the togs outlet. Then we drop into a pub called the Horse & Groom which some scoffing locals call the Doom & Gloom when we ask directions.It’s a warm and pleasant low-ceilinged place full of very quietly spoken tipplers. Niz relates “rock tales of the eighties” to my delight over a couple of pints of warm, chewy bitter.
I pass a pregnant pram-pusher who is surreptitiously vaping.The miserable merry-go-round of the M25 beckons, the ring-road of gloom.It’s a collar buttoned around London’s neck; within its circle all the money hums and bleeds and pushes.Even the new shopping development around the venue is sensitively designed and in keeping with the area’s character.The venue is yet another well-equipped provincial arts theatre built in the Blair era.