Devil's Dyke

On the fourth day of my stay in Brighton, Maria and I jumped on an open-air bus to drive eastward along the coast to Devil's Dyke. My parents used to take Maria and I for hikes frequently enough, and we often complained about them. We have since moved beyond any chilhood rebeliousness, and I hope that they are happy that their passion of walking in the great outdoors has passed on to their offspring.

The dyke itself was crater-like, and much steeper and deeper than it initially appeared. It was a beautiful sunny day, and Maria and I hiked for a solid two hours. After our stroll, we perched ourselves on a hill overlooking a picturesque town, farmers' fields, and the sea in the distance. Perched to do what, you ask? To play scrabble of course! However, I don't think it was a good game since I left a blank in my journal where the score should have been recorded.

Not to have our Sunday afternoon spoiled by too many consonants, Maria and I headed back to Brighton for a Sunday roast. I have found that many European countries have Sunday rituals (gastronomical, not spiritual, for the most part), and I am a big fan. The roast in the photo below was a nut loaf with lots of yummy vegetables; a great way to complete a very fulfilling Sunday.