[…] St. Bede's at this period of its history was perhaps the poorest and most miserable parish in the East End of London. Close-packed, crushed by the buttressed height of the railway viaduct, rendered airless by huge walls of factories, it at once banished lively interest from a stranger's mind and left only a dull oppression of the spirit.

That song is ok, I’m sort of bored with it now but its pretty cool when you first hear it, sort of cheezy (or steezy?).

At Birling Gap we can stop and go have a picnic on the beach.

The Times of course has to pay the price of encyclopaedism by being often dreadfully overwritten, with long paragraphs connected by motley conjunctions.