Winter

A fine day out for perambulating around the town - but after a short stretch of the legs we visited the Turner - the exhibition being by one Anya Gallaccio, a Scot apparently, but one who lives in California for some unfathomable reason. Great exhibition, particularly the smell of rotting apples and flowers which filled the air. Onward past the weed strewn cannon presented to the town after Sebastopol, past the dilapidated winter gardens, the closed Lido and back into town where a seat was needed. And later, a solo stroll to the Xylo microbrewery, before whistling up the well rested SK for a walk over to the pier and the Harbour Arms where there was a bit of a riotous assembly underway. I think the barman was no stranger to pharmaceuticals shall we say.
And finally an Italian meal in a great cosy little packed Italian restaurant - cash only! - begob we didn’t half pig out.