Eastbourne, Eastbourne…where to start? Stinky, skanky, utterly without charm. No good shops, disproportionately high numbers of OAP’s and people with addiction/mental health problems. I have lived/worked here for waaay too long (about fifteen years) and am finally escaping in 2017. I work in the town centre, and sometimes feel like a fricking social worker; I have never encountered so many weird and rude people anywhere else, and I have been around the world twice.
Add this intoxicating mix to the fact there is frick all to do here. Unless you are a full time alcoholic, (which is to be advise if you live in this festering fecal-ridden dump), in which case the divey pubs will no doubt keep you happy enough, there is the seafront to walk along, where you will either be mown down by cyclists/skate-boarders/c**v single mum with double pram and brood of unruly icky children called Britney, etc/old person in mobility scooter, or there is the Towner Gallery; a hulking concrete edifice reminiscent of Cold War Russia, filled with mostly second rate toss.
Thank God we have Beachy Head to hurl ourselves off of when it becomes too much to bear. Thank to Southern Rail there is no other way out. Apart from National Express, which is pretty much tantamount to suicide anyway, seeing as you will be sitting with eternally munching OAP’s and c**v single mum’s, with a brood of unruly icky children called Britney… you get the picture.
I will never understand why so many people holiday here. I can only assume it is a form of penance for some truly awful act.
I have to leave here in order to retire here when I am a cranky, rude, incapacitated 80 year old. I only hope I have dementia by then, so I won’t remember that I have already spent 15 years in the rectum of the universe.