Sunny Sunday in Brighton

We completed the M25 loop by travelling down to Brighton and back up north through the Dartford tunnel. To go over the Thames on the impressive bridge you have to be going south.

Parking a long way from the shore

Bright houses driving into Brighton

Big yellow signs announcing the Brighton Marathon greeted our arrival but as we very slowly drove through the one lane main road in to the seaside town we saw the barriers being packed up and signs for the road closures listing times past. By the time we finally found a park and walked down to the sea we were in time to see the first finishers. This meant that for the four hours we were in Brighton it took 20mins to get from the promenade to the beach, the pier was packed so we thought we'd leave that thrill for another day.

Deck chairs for hire

Michael was intent on finding a feast of fish'n'chips for lunch. Up in the town we spotted a restaurant called Fishy Fishy, the menu listed mushy peas and their bathroom had poetry on the wall. The cartoons and four-liners were ditties written and illustrated to insult poor George the Prince Regent of the late 1700s(died King in 1830). The smell inside was unbearably fishy so Michael got a table outside in the sun and enjoyed the best Fish and mushy peas ever. The chips and beet root coleslaw were okay too.

The Monsoon store with its beach wear all flimsy and floaty in the window was doing a roaring trade even though everyone still wore their winter coats. I suppose you have to have the summer kit ready to throw on as soon as the warm arrives to make the most of it.

Michael went into a gunsmiths and found out that you can own an air rifle over here once over 18 and without a license. It is considered an Englishmen's right to own a shotgun and although you need a license the council has to prove why you shouldn't have one rather than the other way around. He thinks clay shooting could be good fun.

The Pavilion, built by Prince George as a leisure palace, has the most extraordinary design inside and out. Queen Vic sold the place to build a family retreat on Jersey. Luckily the council of the time bought it and it has slowly been refurbished to its original state. The Regent(so called because his father King George, was mad) delighted in all things oriental and spent well beyond the allowance Parliament contributed to his expenses on hand painted wall paper from China, silver dragons topping enormous chandeliers and Dutch tile lined secret passageways throughout so the servants never had to be seen.

He originally bought a farm house over looking a field where the fishermen dried their nets and turned it into something that would not look out of place in any of the Arabian Nights tales. I agree with Queen Vic that it is odd to have built a place at the seaside where there are no views of the sea. Apparently his biggest joy in daylight hours was riding until he was too corpulent to mount, he much preferred the evening banquets and balls that he lavishly entertained his guests in spectacular surrounds. In later years he had his bedroom shifted to the ground floor because his weight meant that climbing the stairs was awkward and he had a special bed that would raise up at one end to help him to be able to get out. He also had a hidden passage built from his bedroom to the stables so he could go and see his horses and ride without ridicule. The domed stables are now the Brighton Museum and art gallery.

The sun had come out and the streets were filled with people and buskers. The sodden park grounds had brave Brits laying down coats and blankets to sit on and picnic. Squirrels were scampering about and the outside tables of pubs were full. We decided to take the time to cross the marathon track and make it down to the beach before we left.

British optimism abounds, pretty buckets and spades were being sold for kids to make piles of stones - the violent surf hadn't been able to smash the igneous pebbles to sand. Two girls stripped to their undies and went out into the surf with much shrieking as a 'Bondi rescue' guy headed off to save them on his quad, which probably did more damage than it prevented as great rocks flung out from under his back wheels. He wore red and yellow crash helmet, togs and polar fleece.

On our way back north the road south was crammed to a stand still, too much traffic entering the fray from the Dover crossing. We were glad that the students were either too poor to travel away for the Easter break or had all caught the train back because the journey North was clear and quick.

Reading Now: Death comes to Pemberley by PD James.

Death by fried food

A whodunit follow-on to Pride and Prejudice. Michael so enjoyed having it read out loud to him though the slow parts of road works that a sign said should cause delays until 2014. Lacking the gorgeous language of Austin but I couldn't resist a mystery where Wickham gets his just deserts and Georgiana enters the marriage mart.
"Jane realised that being in such close proximity to her mother would not contribute to her husband's comfort or her peace of mind..." p36