Day 5 – Quack, quack, oops . . .

Being retired and officially classed as OAPs, or seniors, or holders of concessionary rights, comes with benefits. But we can’t remember what they are. Like many words, in general conversation that torment us. They teeter on the edge of our tongue. Tantalise as they refuse to be spat out. No amount of A to Z-ing brings about the slightest hint. We learn to improvise. Beat about the bush. Or if that fails then nod knowingly to one another, hoping and assuming the other is thinking the same illusive word. A short while later we develop a mild case of tourettes. Tickled tongues tormented by our brainlessness issue forth a salvo of possibilities. All in vain – accept we’re going qwackers.

This morning arrives with a surprise. Beastie is still holding firmly onto Brighton Rock. Despite last night’s continuous spiteful gusts that bullied and tormented his 3.5+ ton. On board it felt as if we were riding the seven seas. With his slightly higher suspension, Beastie rocked and rolled as if at an all night rave. His Elvis hips swivelling this way then that – uh huh, uh huh!

No rave for him – he’s lost his Horlicks . . .

Our timed entry to Brighton Pavillion is preceded with a drop off at Sussex Leisure Vehicles. Very fortunately just 1K from our site. We leave Beastie to get examined. Hoping that the cause of the gas leak can be determined and rectified.

We are now several years into retirement and the unproud owners of the regulatory bus pass. Unused. Until today. The strong cold wind deters Scoot from poking his nose out from his cosy perch, so we take the plunge. The bus driver offers us a patient smiley instruction as we fathom out exactly what to do with the pass. Then we pass. Just about.

Eyes of misery

It’s some years since our only previous visit to the Royal Pavilion. As we approach, the outer skin clearly showing its age. Once inside the bygone days of opulence are clearly visible.

Not quite how we remember it . . .
The sumptuous interior an example of George IVs wild extravagance

Seems the Royals still have a soft spot for Brighton
As do many from the world of pop

We round off our visit around the ‘Lanes’. A souk-like linkage of predominately jewelry shops.

Our day ends on a high when we pick up a totally repaired Beastie. The old ‘should last at least ten years regulator valve’ the culprit.

Brand spanking new. Built to last a lifetime? Well, until it leaks . . .