sent from: Esher, Surrey, UK. destination: London, UK

In keeping with our tradition of visiting the English seaside at exactly the wrong times, we stood on the pebbly Brighton Beach with a cold wind throwing colder water in our faces, the matchstick ruins of the West Pier our only companion.

On the pier a girl in a booth presided over her own private, deserted funfair, while French teenagers tried to make out behind the “world famous Fish n’ Chips” sign. The rollercoaster was being dismantled piece by piece like a giant Mecano set being put away for safekeeping.

I couldn’t imagine being left in the booth, alone. I waved to her. She smiled and waved back.