The drivers want to kill me... I 'm a paranoiac pedestrian.
A very nice colourful restaurant called Bill
Tribute to Paul : Brighton station
Sunday morning in an internet cafe close to Brighton railway station. I just found how to put my pictures on the computer.
I'm fine for ever, I guess. But not the weather. The weather doesn't know what to do. Sun is hesitating but the showers not. Freezing.
The word of yesterday was : SLEET.
The word of yesterday was : SLEET.
There 's no today's word, you'll have to wait a litlle bit.
Well, well, the word of the day is a whole sentence. Told by Marilyn, my host.
"If you want to spend a penny, you've got toilets downstairs"
In Victoria Station yesterday, it costed me 20 pence to spend a penny.
Sunday afternoon.
Sunday afternoon.
Brighton is croudy, today. At the Museum, they said that Brighton is famous for his "dirty week-ends", stag and hen nights. That the word of the day : a hen night
Rottingdean. Recommended by Marilyn. No smoking village, tells me Veronique. Kipling lived here for a while. Nice gardens called Kipling's garden.
Nice houses, nice cup of tea, nice Harvey. Nothing dirty. Even my three sisters were there. My three nice sisters.
2 commentaires:
I didn't know you had re-opened your blog, good idea
so everyone will know where you are and what you are doing. That's me. F.
My mum is a pretty good english speaker. Congratulations mummy. Your english is absolutely gorgeous.
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