Ross and Tony sell great seafood from Hove beach, where the cars don’t go. The fish is very local, incredibly fresh, and fantastic value. At the weekend, another customer was enthusing about the scallops, and wistfully remembering his first taste of scallops, cooked in white wine, many years ago. Says I, “that sounds like a Proustian moment.” Says he, “Yes it was. Actually, I never got round to it before, but I’m reading Proust now.” At which he paid for his scallops and headed home, possibly to read a few more chapters before he started the cooking.