THE one place in Brighton that one wishes to be sure of reaching on time is the railway station. It is almost a Mission Impossible.

If you live on the outskirts of the town it is entirely possible that no bus will take you there so you are looking at a taxi (expensive) or your own car (if you fancy parking halfway to Preston Park station, thanks to the "improvements" in the car park).

Those who designed, assuming that is not a total misuse of the word, the new improved station site have merely succeeded in driving everyone, from the aaxi drivers to the general public, around the bend. As far as the traffic is concerned, literally, it would seem, since the traffic lights allow no one to go anywhere at all for long stretches, causing a long taxi queue to build up, along with the blood pressure of the unfortunate passenger who can see the meter going into overdrive.

Should you wish to use the excellent Travel Centre to book your ticket and itinerary in advance you may park right round the back of the station, run the four-minute mile to the centre, pray there is no queue, race back again only to find your free time has run out and you have incurred a £10 fine. There goes the blood pressure again!

For people like myself, not entirely in the autumn of my life but not Linford Christie either, it is totally frustrating to see so much wasted space where once one could park for a limited time.

If you are disabled, even marginally, there is one space in the main road outside, and still a long way from the booking office. I took my partly-disabled daughter to the station, was bold enough to drive in to the far side so that she was within striking distance of the booking office and was then threatened with prosecution if I did it again.

Iprotested that they had made it impossible for the less able and was told to ring Tunbridge Wells and arrange for a wheelchair! Assuming one could even raise Connex on the phone I do not think my very determined daughter would welcome such a way of catching a train when all she needed was a little consideration.

For a town so anxious to be seen to care for those less able I suggest a few well chosen words in the ear of whoever is responsible for the dog's dinner which is at the far end of the would-be Ocean Boulevard.

What a fine mess at one of the main entrances to the town the Ocean Boulevard itself is. Oceans of concrete if you like, but not much else. It will take a miracle to turn it into anything half way welcoming, and in the meantime it is a nightmare for those trying to visit offices or shops on either side of the road.

Grey panthers of the world unite - you have nothing to lose but your rising blood pressure!

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.