My local

It's rather nice actually, isn't it. A proper backstreet pub, one of the few remaining in residential roads, at least around here. As I understand it, the property to the left was originally a pub too, and bore the name The Prince of Wales, but this one has clearly carried that name for a long time.

I love those green tiles on pubs, and here they are, a gem on my very doorstep - well, literally three minutes away; I timed it this morning - and I hadn't been in there since about 1993. I used to live in the same road, in the flat above the fish and chip shop almost opposite (so it doesn't matter that the Prince of Wales doesn't do food; the barmaid didn't seem to mind a chap bringing his chips in the night we were there. What could be nicer, after a hard game of toad in the hole, than a pint of Harveys and some hot salty chips?)

There is one negative factor to report: those doors. I think they are still the original, wooden, doors, but they are most definitely not the original windows. Up until a couple of years ago, the original ones were still there, frosted glass with the words 'Saloon Bar' and 'Public Bar' spelled out in leaded glass. I remember how furious I was at seeing them removed, and the new ones are horrible; they don't even make an effort to be nice.

Still, we must be grateful that the tiles survive in nearly all (barring a few chips and screwholes) their glory.

Toad in the Hole at a pub with no food

My sister came to visit us from Wales yesterday, and we were at a bit of a loss as to what to do while the dinner was cooking. So I thought perhaps we would go to a pub. In the past we've been in the habit of going into Lewes for such purposes, usually to the Snowdrop (which I learn with some consternation is now closed, but that's another story). The last pub I went to in Newhaven was probably the Ark down on Riverside, which is OK but a bit trendy (although that is certainly an improvement, and they do serve Directors, which is one of my all time favourites).

But, I thought, when we're off boating we're always ready to try out a new pub, and sometimes we've been pleasantly surprised, and it's very rare that we've had a total failure. So I suggested we try our very nearest pub, which is only about three minutes' walk away. This is the Prince of Wales in South Road, and I haven't been in there for about fifteen years. Sister, son and I went and had a look, and found a nice, old fashioned, street corner local. No food; no jukebox (but nice enough music); no fruit machines. One real ale - but it was Harvey's, so that was fine, and it was in pretty good condition. At six o'clock on a Wednesday night, the place was empty; for quite a while literally, completely empty apart from us.

Other good points included original tiles in the loos (as it was so empty I was able to sneak into the gents for a quick look; very impressively, the copper pipework was polished); parquet floor in the public bar, and green glazed tiles on the floor adjacent to the bar.

And, best of all, Toad in the Hole.

Toad in the Hole is an old Sussex pub game, which involves throwing metal discs at a sloping table top which is covered in lead and has a hole in the middle. You score two points for getting one in the hole and one for it resting on the top, and the first person or team (me in this case) to get down exactly from 31 is the winner.

Roll up, roll up

For Late Night Shopping in Newhaven. It was only a few years ago that local shopkeepers decided that it would be a good idea to institute a Late Night Shopping event in the run up to Christmas. As I recall, it started with the shops themselves, and a lovely Rotary Club Santa's Grotto. Local organisations set up stalls with tombolas and raffles and gifts for sale. Then came the twirling teacups and the bouncy castle, and now - I've just been down there and bring you this report from the front line - it's a full blown fairground, crammed into the pedestrianised high street, complete with an inflatable slide as high as the surrounding buildings, big wheel, loads of other rides, rip-off stalls, two rifle ranges, screaming girls and huddled, smoking, boys. You can't see the shops, and now I come to think of it, many of them weren't open anyway.

So it's no longer really late night shopping, rather, Newhaven Town Centre Fairground, one night only (thank god). Worst of all, there was no Rotary Club Santa's grotto.

There was a candy floss van

And, rather less explicably, in December, an ice cream van.

There were a few local organisations represented, but their small, unilluminated, stalls were lost in the general melee, or relegated to the outer darkness of the bottom of the town: Newhaven Square.

It's not that there's nothing to say...

It's that there's too much. There are so many things, seeing as I haven't written about any current events or issues so far, that are interesting, and that are going on in Newhaven at the moment, that I don't really know where to start. I would love to tell the stories of the proposed East Quay development (premised upon the recently discovered imminent collapse of said quay); the history and uncertain future of the Parker Pen Company; and, of course, the proposed incinerator, which rumbles on and on and on...

All these stories though are complex and involved, and would require me doing some research, and going out specially to take photos, which, much as I would love to do all those things, I really don't have time for - at least not this week. So please forgive the paucity of these early offerings, and I will try to get my act together (possibly when the weather improves).

The West Beach

Say what you like about Newhaven, but where else on the South coast offers you a beach like this? Washed clean by the tide twice a day, oh-so-gently sloping sands, sheltered from the wind by the sea wall... The West Beach has to be one of the best things about Newhaven. It's a brilliant place to take young children, as they can't get lost or hide. The sand is perfect for sandcastles; there's no nasty pebbles or shingle underfoot. The tide goes out a long way, so there's plenty of sand, and it comes all the way in so you get a brand new canvas twice a day. There's a car park right at the top of the steps, which costs about two pounds a day, I think.

And if you don't like gently sloping sands, then there's another beach the other side of the breakwater, steeper, with pebbles, and where the tide doesn't come right up. So if you like swimming, sore feet , stale seaweed and old plastic bottles, your needs are catered for too. (Actually that's unfair; the pebbly beach is mostly lovely too, below the high tide mark at least.)

Brill!

Although not, perhaps, if you are a fish. I couldn't resist this fine specimen, captured at the Fish Festival last year, because to my eye he bears an uncanny resemblance to our well known local MP, scourge of the Hutton enquiry, Channel 4 Opposition MP of the Year (2002) and Spectator Inquisitor of the Year (2001).

North Quay

Just a picture tonight, to keep things ticking over. The North Quay on an October morning last year, featuring some satisfyingly orange aggregate.