Jane and I spent the warm and bright Sunday afternoon sitting in the Pavilion Gardens in Brighton. We drank mugs of builders’ tea at the little cafe which has been in the gardens there for 70 years. The Slinfold Concert Band played the same big band classics which have been played in the same place since 1941. Its funny to think that generations of girls like us have been sitting and drinking their cups of tea, listening to the Sunday concert band for so many years. When the band stopped to break at 3pm, the girls from the cafe brought trays filled with hot cups of tea to the musicians, who stood around chatting and laughing in the afternoon sunshine.
The pavilion, as always, stood bright and gaudy in the background, observing the garden frolics.
Aside from us and a young pregnant mother, running after her children and pulling behind her a miniature daschund, we were mostly joined by the elderly, who ate rock cakes and apple pie. There seemed no certainty that I hadn’t been displaced into the world of a Orwellian novel, but for the fact I had my camera and a mobile phone.