Second night of the tour on which we have to camp out. We’ve one pretty big tent for all of us, it’s still cosy inside.
Last night I kipped on a mate’s settee, but don’t really feel refreshed. As I left half of my clothes on the Isle of Wight I’m still wearing everything from yesterday—and that feels odd.
So far the piers I’ve liked most have been the closed and burnt ones, they’re poignant in a way that rotting concrete or rotten slot machines can’t be. Arson as a civic duty?