Bank Holiday in Brighton

Today we woke up, had a nice cup of tea in bed, and decided to go to Brighton. (Despite having lived in London for nearly seven years, and saying we should go nearly every Bank Holiday, we’ve never actually made it, so this was pretty tremendous.) After a disastrous train journey which involved travelling on the more expensive ticket without using the fast train, we arrived.


By this point we were both starving, having left the house in a frenzied dash in order to catch the train, so we walked BRISKLY down to the seafront to The Brighton Smokehouse and gorged ourselves on a dressed crab, calamari and smoked mackerel pate. I’m finally learning to love seafood and this was delicious AND inexpensive. Then we lay on the beach for a while and ‘napped’. In fact, this involved me lying on the beach with my eyes closed keeping up a steady stream of enthusiastic chatter about relaxation, bank holidays and seagulls.

In some fit of complete insanity, I was inspired to ask Jamie to take a photo of me, and this is the result. I look like an invalid film star who has somehow wandered onto the wrong set.



We walked along the beach, we lay down, we walked some more. You get the picture. Then we went for ice-cream. Then we went to the pier.


(We didn’t actually go on any of the rides, due to a misunderstanding about how to pay for them, though I was sorely tempted by Beat the Bull.)




(You’d have to be mental to feed the birds. They’re like terrifying aerial muggers.)

After the pier, we headed inland and had a lovely time investigating the expensive independent homewares stores – this is basically my idea of heaven. Brighton is REALLY pretty, if a little heavy on the bunting.



Then we went to the Royal Pavilion. It was a fairly whistlestop tour, since by this time it was nearly five and we had a train to catch, but the outside was certainly worth it.


And then we got on the train and went home. I fell asleep (sea air!) and spent most of the time  between Haywards Heath and East Croydon trying in vain to stop my mouth falling open. As of now, I’m actually slightly sunburnt, which really I should be upset about, but given the dire photo above, I’m actually pleased to take the edge off the winter pastiness.


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