I wasn't expecting to like Hastings quite so much. It's the sort of town benefit-light Londoners might soon be displaced to, a long faded resort far from any employment hotspot. But it's a pretty town, from the seafront to its hilly hinterland, and by no means any kind of hostel ghetto. Steep steps and sharp contours, within town and without, add more genteel character than, say, Folkestone or Brighton. Having said all that, I did narrowly miss a blazing row outside the station where a hoodied lad bit a woman's leg, so it's not all sweetness and light. Most visitors spend their day near the seafront, but I've been inland as well, up the sheltered valley of AlexandraPark. Its temperate microclimate allows rare trees to thrive, including nine which are the tallest of their species in Britain. I didn't get as far as OldRoarGhyll, a revamped suburban waterfall, but I did find the blue plaque on John Logie Baird's home/laboratory in Linton Crescent. There are at least four major tourist attractions in town I've not yet mentioned, one of them very new, so I'll tell you about that/them tomorrow once I'm home. Things aren't quite so attractive now the clouds have rolled in and a chill has descended, but I'm pleased I made the effort to come. For a day trip, or maybe three, Hastings has much to recommend.