I spent a recent weekend in Brighton on the British South Coast. Apart from the opportunity to spend time with an old friend who I’ve know since we were silly school girls, the weekend was just in time to restore my frazzled stressed out old self. Brighton is a brilliant, strange, beautiful, tacky, odd, fabulous, artistic, exciting, interesting and deeply compelling town.
There is something about walking through this town that lifts me. From the mohawked punks to the lovers of all types and persuasions. The incredible tiny shops filled with everything a warped mind could dream of. The cockles and mussels and jellied eels on sale. Enough to make me grin, even as we shivered against the cold.
More pics:British beach life
Shopping in The Laines
* Brighton has two piers. One is a bustling hub of tacky neon lights and fun fair type stuff. The other is a towering broken and burnt edifice that is home to a hundred sea gulls and somehow looks forlorn and imposing against the grey sky. A storm was approaching and this photo does no justice to the incredible view, but we were utterly enthralled. The hail that followed was less delightful.
** Famous graffitist, who protested the establishment with beautiful street art. Was initially anonymous, but then unveiled, much to his supporters disappointment, to be a middle class boyo from the burbs and not the protesting poverty stricken artiste everyone had hoped. Still, the work is good. And I am rather partial to graffiti.