Edges of the weather – Hastings

You can buy an Ancient Mariner, a seahorse in a tank, a mermaid set in concrete. Here. Along the edges of the weather, laden with the newsprint of seagulls, the sea heavy, laden with rain, the wind freighted from the west. You can buy ice-cream, fish and chips, a sharp headache, sex in the car-park, all for a small ticket. Here. Along the edges of the weather.

This town – Hastings

This town loves the wind and the gulls; it welcomes the strays, the three-legged dogs, the flying birds. Sometimes it spits all these things out and all lies lost on the pavement – the gulls and the wind, the drunken man, the couple entwined, the rubbish and the rats. But it’s our town, sea-town, edge-town, fishing town, strange town, a town that loves the wind and the strays.

Town Hall – Hastings

The town hall is built of sandstone blocks and is decorated with turrets and stone reliefs of ships and kings. There are arches and a large stained glass window and two metal grilles like something you might see in Fez. The lace curtain at one window and the two electric fans are, however, ugly and out of keeping with the whole. The place looks as if it might be a church but it is not. Most people walk by without considering the grilles, the stained glass or the turrets. They probably see the pigeons instead or the small turret on the pavement which sells hot dogs and tea.



After the gale old newspapers gather in the gutter together with a dead seagull, its eye like a child’s marble, and on the shoreline lie broken shells, ancient fish, a line of seaweed tangled in rope and the boats waiting for calm

The home of writer Bronwen Griffiths