Obsessive sonic

I missed the train from Hove to West Worthing this morning and had to settle instead for one that went to Worthing itself, which meant a slightly longer walk the other end. It was no hardship. The area around the train station is just as quirky, if not more so than West Worthing. There are scores of junk shops. Hard-faced women sit on the pavement next to trestle tables laden with cutlery and broken china. I think my favourite shop, in a street of eccentricity, is the store which sells bubble wrap! The next time I need bubble wrap, I'll remember not to go to W H Smith!

We worked hard in the studio today, and staggered through to the end of the album. It felt like a good point to leave things. We probably could have worked another couple of hours and I could have taken a late train back to London, but it makes more sense for me to stay one more night, make a few more changes with fresh ears tomorrow morning, and then treat PK to lunch at a greasy spoon to say thank you for a job (as ever) well-done.

I walked along the seafront in Hove this evening, sucking up the glorious sea air and marvelling at the sunset: fronds of smoky lavender-coloured, snake-skin-textured clouds bursting from a pastel-orange globe. As the night drew in, little black smoky ribbons started to form, one assumes the remnants of vapour trails. I completely understand why people would want to live down this way. 

Having walked along the esplanade, I decided to run along it, and, as the light faded, I jogged all the way to Brighton pier through the dope-soaked air, and twinkling seaside lights, and back to First Avenue via Western Road, the main shopping street which links Brighton and Hove.

I had a bath, ate some tinned pears (being on a diet is just no fun) and then listened obsessively to the Pepys Motet mixes to see if I could spot any sonic issues or glitches before our last day in the studio tomorrow.