The last plate

The weather took a turn and it felt right, you could feel the humidity rise and it became a hot a sticky drive down to Brighton. You really have to trust your instincts and go with the flow, even though it was overcast and dull in Essex, who knows what it would be like when I reached the South coast after a two hour drive.

I found a place to park just across the road from the skeletal remains of the old Western Pier, that had been destroyed by fire in 2003, found my spot and waited until that eerie blue light of dusk materialised, then nice and gently remove the dark slide, and CLICK….

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