Transport your mind, if you will, back to January this year. If you were anywhere near me you will remember short days, cold and wet, leafless trees and regretting the New Years hangover that was still fresh enough to limit alcohol intake for the whole month.
Said hangover was cultivated in Brighton, southern England. We set up camp in the Travelodge with a view over the raging grey sea and a gale so constant I thought I had tinnitus. At least it helped keep the ciders, beers, rum and cola cool in the cavity window since the room did not feature a fridge. Rigging up, we braved the elements to venture on walks along the seafront, strolling on the famous Pier, through the narrow historical streets filled with character rich cafes and many, many jewelers. We meandered through piles of antiques and collectibles on North Laine before zeroing in on one of our newer faves, Yo Sushi for dinner.
We spent time capturing umpteen photos of the sunset behind the burned out wreck of the old pier, clambering over the pebbles before making our way up into the streets and finding chocolate heaven at choccywoccydoodah. A beer at Legends Bar, unfortunately we mis-timed that one so missed out on the advertised show from one of the local cabaret stars. I think we bumped into him doing his grocery shopping anyway, complete in full make up and stiletto heels with a lot of denim. Stunning. Legends did have a small band of merry men synchronizing their dance moves, drinks in hand next to the bar though. So that was cool.
When outside was just too mean to contemplate, we enjoyed antipasto picnics on the bed and The Hobbit on the laptop. I know that doesn’t do it justice so it’s just as well we saw the second Hobbit in 3D cinema later on. It was still preferable to getting lashed by rain and gales outside.
I’d say I peaked a wee bit early on NYE, we’d started drinking in the room while getting ready and then helped it all along at the Mexican restaurant we visited for dinner….mmmmm mojitos! It was probably not a great idea to try and continue at the nightclub with inferior rum and some interesting people-watching. I don’t remember counting down to midnight or singing Auld Lang Sine…oh dear. I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I think I may still be feeling the shame some five months later!
I’d like to go back one day during better weather and do the fish and chips with malt vinegar deal from a vendor in the sheds under the esplanade. Then I think you’re supposed to have an ice cream or hard rock candy from the pier…basically some totally unhealthy food while breathing the restorative sea air. Now why didn’t I feel so restorated by the gales forcing themselves into my lungs while having a wholly unhealthy amount of alcohol? I claim it’s false advertising!