Not your duck, your dear, your love…

We were in Hastings at the weekend. There was a lot on in Hastings (actually, there was also a lot on in Tunbridge Wells), and one event was the first ever ‘Hastings Pride’ – set up by the main shopping area, near the seafront. The organisers hope the event will grow over the years, it was quite busy when we went past.

There was a lady sitting on the bench, and my instinct was to refer to her as a ‘Granny’ but I’m now thinking, these days, maybe no one should be labelled in any way. I rather dislike being called duck, dear, or love…and in a few years time I’d rather not be branded a granny. I hope she has an interesting life story, and I hope the same for the man dressed in black with the drum and ribbons.

Hastings was a little grey above the crowds, the cloudiest day for a week or so, and we had a bracing walk along the new pier. With an obvious tourist town, you can never tell if other people are visitors or locals. But lots of people were out strolling, despite the wind and odd showers.


I don’t like to label anyone, but the people in the photo above get my label of MAD. The photo gives no illusion of the waves…. Oh dear!


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