EVERY day I walk the walk along our Promenade, always impressed, always something new to see.
The tideline never seems to be in the same place, the parched brown grass of yesterday’s common is, after a downpour, lush green again seemingly almost overnight.
The murmuration of starlings that gather on the roof of the old Coastguard lookout station break into miniature patterns, aping their many counterparts in Brighton, and the lovely River Arun always offers something new.
I sometimes extend my walk along River Road, passing the ghosts of long lost public houses the names of which I cannot always recall.
In the alleyway alongside where the old Clifton Café once stood I romanced my first real girlfriend, and on the site of the old car park, a jealous lad the worse for wear after a binge in the Cairo Club tried to knock my block off.
On to the welcoming Arun View or the newly refurbished Steam Packet public houses but, sadly, the old green swing bridge and the bountiful rubbish tip beyond are but mere memories.
I believe I spend too much of my time these day looking back and, like they say, nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.
Too much change too fast, some of it I like and welcome but I guess the bottom line is that I do not fully trust the stewardship of our town in the hands of Arun without much misgiving.
Only time will tell whether that be an existential awakening for me or a dark moment of pessimism.
AS usual, the clouds cleared and the sun shone down on the Littlehampton Town Council-sponsored Family Fun Day and Town Show and above the throng in that clear blue sky, an impromptu display by a passing Spitfire.
Children, puppy dogs and adults milled in seemingly endless circles around the ground, enjoying the entertainment, the hog roast, burgers and the ale.
The Town Show was particularly busy with a fine display of produce, incredibly huge leeks, giant onions and flowers.
I looked at those leeks and carrots and wondered why my beets and beans were so scrawny.
A large flight of swallows gathered above our heads on Sunday morning as my two companions and I bashed our way across the pitch and putt course.
Summer really must be over.
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