As the job hunt is continuing, I am on the look out for tourist attractions that are reasonably priced. I may have failed the brief with Brighton, but it was totally worth the extra pennies.
I have only been to Brighton once before, back in 2008 when Georgie and I travelled around Europe after my Copenhagen exchange. So it was lovely to go back and visit a place that I so heavily associate with the halcyon days of university exchange.
Georgie did not have such fond memories of Brighton, it being the location of her worst ever sunburn... like EVER! I may have been a bit smug this time, having remarked to her on the train down to Brighton that I had packed 50+ sunscreen just for her. Aren't I just the best friend ever!
Last time we went to Brighton, it must have been a weekday. We only figured this out upon returning, because upon alighting at the station, we were greeted by a lovely gentleman who was part of the local tourist board. He suggested that we check out the laneways in Brighton, as the markets were open today. They definitely were not open when we were there last time, and what a difference it made to the liveliness of the town.
After a short sunbake on the beach, I succumbed to Georgie's pleas to ride the ferris wheel (I nearly threw up on the first rotation). We then walked out on to the pier where I finally got to try whelks (some form of sea snail thing). Turns out I should have waited till I got OFF the pier as they were £2 cheaper everywhere else. Further up the pier Georgie got to swoon at the pub dedicated to Horatio Hornblower. She didn't appreciate my observation that it sounded more like a male strip joint.
From there we made our way back to the beach for a tipple, however we were forced to take refuge under some rather flimsy umbrellas (you would think the English would be better prepared!) as an afternoon storm rolled through. After wetting our whistle, we strolled up the hill to the laneways to find a pub for dinner. After getting slightly sidetracked by working our way through a bottle of rose, I enjoyed a seafood bisque which must have been nice, because I have absolutely no recollection of what Georgie ordered.
From there we staggered back on to the train (rather late at night by this stage) and slept most of the way back to London.
It is funny, but back in 2008, I remember smugly thinking that Brighton had nothing on any Australian beach. I mean, pebbles... really! But with the addition of the wonderful market laneway scene, combined with the (quite wonderful) tat and glitter of the pier, I suddenly get what the British seaside is about. It is about a day out of the house, where the sun might not actually be that strong, but reflected off the water it is suddenly somehow magnified and intensified. It is about icecream, and whelks and drinks by the water. It is about rollercoasters, and bunting flags and being overcharged for absolutely ANYTHING sold on the pier.
It most certainly isn't about going for a swim, or surfing or snorkelling. It isn't (usually) about sand or kite surfing. But other places have that, so why bother to compete. Brighton knows itself, and does what it does very well. And I approve wholeheartedly!
"If you stay more than five years you become a pommiefied Aussie, than which there is no more pitiful creature on God's earth. Unless it's an aussiefied Pom, and that's how you feel when you try to go back." Tirra Lirra by the River - Jessica Anderson
ReplyDeleteThe questions are; is it true and will you all become one of them?
PS Don't get the book it's on its way to the birthday woman. To be read when homesick and realize why you stay where you are.
I want to go to Brighton wahhhhhhhhhhhh!