AT LAST, summer has arrived (hopefully) and the sun is splitting the rocks in Eastbourne.
It puts a spring in your step and it’s lovely to see everyone enjoying a coffee or other liquid refreshment al fresco around the town.
But now the sun is out, it’s time to put some things away – like unsightly flesh. I don’t mind looking at workmen in shorts and vests but I do object to standing in a queue in a shop or a bank when the bloke in front of me is stripped to the waist.
I like to leave a little bit to the imagination. Instead I am left staring at their back which more often than not resembles the craters of the moon. Same goes for women of a certain size walking round in crop tops with acres of their tummies hanging out. I call my midriff my wine lake and it stays under cover which is where it belongs.
Perhaps it’s time to bring back signs asking people to wear shirts and vests in public places.
And while we’re about it, signs ordering men to pull their shorts or trousers up so we don’t have to see their designer underpants sticking out of the top – or even worse, the unsightly “builder’s bottom”.
TALKING of the sun being out, on Wednesday evening the seafront was jam-packed with people out enjoying a stroll along the prom in the balmy temperatures.
Yet apart from seafront hotels, there wasn’t one place open for a cup of tea or a glass of chilled white wine. What a shocking state of affairs.
IS IT me but in these cost- cutting times, are some shops cutting back on staff too?
I went into a town centre shop to buy something last Saturday and was at the end of a very, very long queue with some very, very hacked off shoppers because there was just one cashier.
To make matters worse, when questioned as to why there was only one person on the tills at 4.30pm on a busy Saturday afternoon, the shop assistant said her colleagues were tidying up so they could all get away at 5.30pm on the dot.
PLEASE, please, please, can everyone stop feeding pigeons and seagulls.
You know who you are, you sit in the Terminus Road precinct emptying out bags of bread and crumbs for the birds while the rest of us have to duck for cover as masses of them descend.
The other day while I was eating my lunch in the sunshine in Hyde Gardens I watched a seagull – and I am sure they never used to be so big – swoop down and grab somebody’s jacket potato clean off a poor guy’s plate.
They’re horrible things and nothing more than sky rats.
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