The sky stretches out high and blue from the windows of The Regency Cafe in Brighton. Not quite warm enough to sit out (and with the best outside table, against the windows and away from the corner where the wind blows, taken) we sat inside and wondered if the oysters were any good.

The Saturdays of my childhood always featured fish. My Father and I would visit the “new market” (always referred to as new even though the old market has been running since 1203). Today those stalls are lost beneath a new shopping mall but back then they housed fruit, vegetables, meat, household wares and, of course, a fish stall.

We would stand there and eat a plate of cockles before shopping or generally wandering around the town stopping it seemed every five minutes for my Father to speak to one friend or another.

Today, in Brighton, for me the whitebait and fish and chips won at The Regency. Later, as K and I wandered along the seafront, and because it was Saturday I bought a plate of cockles and sat in the sun.