I spent the last day or two in the countryside; Kent and Sussex, to be precise. I went to Beachy Head, an area of somewhat dramatic chalk cliffs, slowly crumbling into the sea. (There is a row of cottages there which is two cottages shorter than it was when they built it; I may post some photos at some stage.) Then I watched the last rays of sunlight over the pier in Eastbourne. (The pier is one of those dominated by an amusement hall. In decades gone by, there must have been coin-operated machines there which for a few (non-decimal) pence would show saucy dioramas or something; however, all there was now was a room full of gaming machines, beeping merrily to themselves, and a few lost teenagers. There's something rather bleak about a seaside resort on a Sunday evening in late autumn; the word 'post-apocalyptic' comes to mind.)
Also, I find it rather amusing that on the road between Winchelsea and Rye (I think), there is an ickle town named Icklesham.