Off To The Pub

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The last days of our Aldinga house sit ticked past. 

Aldinga morning.

The tired old dog kept living his best life, following the sun from room to room and indulging in the odd spot of coprophagy when I didn't get there quick enough with a plastic bag.  On the final day he realised something was happening and didn't let us out of his sight: lying down in front of the vacuum cleaner, wedging himself in beside me as I cleaned the shower, and generally getting himself trodden on and tripped over at every turn.

Don't leave me.

Air travel being what it is, we no longer make pressing plans when we know our home owners are flying in from far-flung lands. This time was no exception. The phone pinged: "The plane's delayed, we'll be at least 2 hours late." No worries, we spent an extra two hours enjoying the warmth of the sunny gazebo. As evening set in we farewelled the tired old dog, left the keys on the bench, and made a rapid exit out the closing garage door.

And we're off.


We booked a room at the Esplanade (aka the 'Espie') Hotel in Brighton for the night. It was nothing flash and the bathroom, resplendent in pink tiles, was a flashback to the 50s but when you're traveling all you need is a comfortable bed and a bathroom of any colour at all as long as its working.

From the 'Espie' restaurant.

We walked along the Esplanade, dined at the pub, and went to bed. Unlike our last pub stay back in the Mullumbimby Middle, the Espie was quiet and well mannered with a distinct lack of pumping live music in Brighton or eau-de-weed wafting up the stairwell. Having said that the bed was too soft and the room was too light and what with one of us snoring and the other one grumbling about the light there wasn't a lot of sleeping going on in room 12 at the Espie on Thursday night. 

Brighton pier on a quiet Thursday night.

And again.

 Come to think of it, there wasn't any eau-de-dog either. 

That was nice.

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