Sunday in Brighton

Sunday, Oct. 25. London was slightly less bustling and populated at 9 am on Sunday morning as we took a 12 minute bus ride to Victoria Station to catch the Southern RR to Brighton. One of Mitch’s ski organizer friends had set us up with a Brit ski writer, Arnie Wilson, who lives outside of Brighton. And Arnie was going to show us the seaside resort. After a tussle with the quick ticket machine we purchased our tickets at the counter and explored carved-up, fast foodized Victoria Station while we waited for the 10:02 to Brighton.

The trip south was uneventful through suburbs, past Gatwick airport, and a few patches of lovely rolling countryside and took about an hour-and-a-half. Arnie was waiting for us at Brighton’s RR station and off we went, at a very fast clip, following him through the streets of Brighton.

We dashed down North Laine full of retro boutiques and zipped through the more upscale winding Lanes full of little shops including some intriguing antique jewelry shops.

Then a spin round the Royal Pavilion admissions room and gift shop. The Royal Pavilion was originally a simple farmhouse in a fishing village that George, Prince of Wales (later George IV), transformed, with the help of the notable architects of the day, into a very large pseudo Indian, Chinese folly. Now it’s being restored and sports scaffolding and plastic tarps.

A quick sprint took us down to the Promenade which stretches miles along the beachfront. There is no sand, but large pebbles called shingle. Although the sun was warm enough there was a good wind and the sea was so rough it was hard to envision fishermen at any time getting boats launched. There is a small two room museum to fishing and Brighton’s early days under the roadway.

We joined a another journalist friend of Arnie’s for a fish and chips (with mushy peas of a remarkable green color) at the Regency, a very pleasant seaside restaurant full of families having Sunday lunch.
The afternoon involved a another sprint up the beachwalk to see some Regency apartment crescents in Hove and then back down and out on the Brighton Pier – a crowded and noisy amusement park full of arcade games and carney rides and booths. It makes the Jersey shore look pretty upscale.

After a dash back to the station we joined all the returning weekenders in a packed train back to London, rather exhausted, and fell into bed. So that’s why this posting is a bit late.