Last Thursday I was lucky enough to stumble across Hastings' night market in full roar.
My nose led me into a gathering of food stalls hidden in a fog of barbecue smoke.
I almost failed to recognise the place.
Here was a cauldron of fire, fine fare, festivity and laughter.
Guitarist Ralph Gannaway plucked an acoustic soundtrack to the kids eating hot curly fries and scrambling over the clock tower's concrete sheep.