Whispering Smith published in the Littlehampton Gazette Thursday September 5th. 2013

WALKING Littlehampton’s promenade and then the river walk on a sunny summer holiday, it is difficult to find things that irritate but I did and, perhaps they irritate you a little also. It’s been a while since I was grumpy so, my top eight have to be as follows: 1. Little children running around in the midday sun in only shorts and not a hint of sun cream. 2. Weaving cyclists. Why not have a designated cycle lane along the prom as in Brighton or Worthing? 3. A large sail boat going out to sea with five adults sitting atop the cabin, three in the cockpit and not a visable lifejacket between them. 4. The careless disposal of litter when standing right next to a litter bin. 5. Fishing over the railings where swans gather, then snagging a swan – the main reason for the council not allowing the use of hooks on crab lines. 6. Still thinking about number six. 7. Having to walk on the highway because of the happy ‘diners’ on the crowded pavement of Pier Road and risking a belt up the backside by a passing motor vehicle. Why not halve the street and make it one way?  8. A young woman moaning about the seagulls because one pooped on her. Get a life, it’s the seaside, seagull poop happens, it has to land somewhere. Complaining about it is like moving to a country village and moaning about the church bells. Oh well, that’s just me getting a little bit grumpy about things over which I have no control and, I suspect, being far too judgemental. On the sunny side there have been thousands of folk from the Mewsbrook Park along to the Look and Sea Centre enjoying the days and sharing the pleasures of Littlehampton in a perfectly mannered way, the over flowing litter bins efficiently cleared by council workers, good humoured crowds and the great majority of children smothered in sun cream and wearing sun hats.

ON SUNDAY September 15^th. At around 10.00am, the RNLI crew are scattering the ashes of our dear friend Graham Edwards into the sea at the end of the pier. So long, buddy, it was so good to know you.

THE DARK NIGHT RISES. Would have been nice to have our stolen cinema returned to us for the approaching dark evenings of autumn and winter. 211 days closed and counting.