POT holes the size of sink holes all over the place, including whackers in Norfolk Place, sizeable holes in Clifton Road and a humdinger of a sinker smack outside of the Civic Centre and close by to an everlasting puddle.
That is the mere tip of the iceberg.
Dangerous things, pot holes, usually full of water and hard to spot if you are in a car, where usually the worst they can do is to bend a wheel or muck up your suspension.
If, however, you hit one on a motorcycle it is a sadder story and could well prove fatal.
They are not to be tolerated at any level and for any excuse.
I remember not so long ago when a man in a truck used to go around with a pot of hot tarmac and asphalt at the ready, clear out the holes, fill them and move on.
When his supplies were used up he would go back to the depot for a refill and carry on. One man, the necessary supplies – a hot shovel and a small roller – protected by a couple of red and white road cones.
When West Sussex County last filled some, but not all, of the pot holes in my street, they closed the road for a morning.
It took two lorries and four men in high visibility jackets to fill the few holes, selected the previous day and ringed in white paint.
When finished, they vanished into the distance, ignoring the street next door which also needed some tender loving care.
Ask yourself, when did you last see any of the pot holes in your area being repaired?
Let me tell you: it’s been a while.
‘GENTLEMEN in England, now a-bed, shall think themselves accursed they were not here...’
Here being the beach last Thursday morning.
I took one look out of the window at the wind and the rain and decided no-one would be brave or foolhardy enough to turn out in that and sat down to breakfast and the Gazette.
I did not count on the stalwart band of conservationists who ventured out against the odds and cleared twenty large bin bags of rubbish from our hallowed shoreline.
Brilliant effort and I am so ashamed I was not there with them.
Next time, come rain or shine, I will be there!