BRIGHTON

As I said in my last post, I had a yearning to see the sea, so much so that I spelt seafront with two E's.

My online weather forecast continued to say that last Thursday was going to be bright and sunny with 8 deg temperatures. Normally Thursday in grandchildren day, but that was being changed to Friday this week, to accommodate an  excited little lady who was going to be six on that day. Jacquie had made a luncheon arrangement with some girl friends so it seemed the perfect opportunity.

I decided to stick a minimum tool kit in the hamper, on the basis, if you've got  it, you won't want it, donned my original, padded Belstaff motorbike over trousers, leather jacket, white scarf, Biggles helmet and goggles and off I set. I had decided not to go down the M23, but halfway down the Caterham bypass everything came to a stop. Road works!!!! It took 45 minutes to get to the traffic lights and roundabout. Fortunately I was able to cut the engine, sit in the sunshine and every now and then let the handbrake off and coast down a couple of car lengths. By the time I had reached the roundabout, I had enough poodling about, so I took the entrance onto the M25 and one junction later I was on the M23 heading South into the bluest sky and brightest sunshine I had seen for ages.

Marjorie more than held her own on the motorway, middle lane, speedo showing plus 80 mph all the way, which is nearer a real 75mph and soon a big sign saying BRIGHTON 22  whizzed past. Marjorie still has a tendency to wander at that speed, so no relaxing at the wheel, tyre pressure is 18 psi, maybe I will try it a bit lower, but in truth, I am not often going to be on a motorway and up to an indicated 70 she is very steady.

I parked on Madeira Drive, acknowledging the few pointed fingers, cameras and thumbs up on the way through Brighton Town. Madeira Drive is the traditional end for the London to Brighton Rally and is used for many other car and bike related events, so it seemed appropriate to park there, although the famous Victorian cast iron, fretwork arches were screened off for repair.

 

 

 

There was a surprising number of people on the beach as I walked down to the forlorn remainder of the West Pier, in such contrast to the Brighton Pier, which I always thought used to be called Palace Pier. I lunched in the lanes and after filling Marjorie's tank we headed back home via Lewes and wonderful bendy country roads, untill we joined the A22, the  Eastbourne to London road at Forest Row. The weather was still good, but these roads still held plenty of water from the recent rain and now Marjorie is in need of a serious wash and brushup.

No problems at all except the tacho has worked loose, the speedo did some while back, so I know how to stop that happening again. I was a bit stiff when I climb out, but well chuffed with the longest run todate, not sure that I would want to go much further, but my back and legs straightened out when I took the dog for a walk around the block.