It’s been two months since I’ve lived in the lovely seaside city of Brighton and Hove and yet I hadn’t had a chance to visit the famous pebbly beach properly . Perhaps it’s to do with the cold and terrible weather battering the southern coast of England. But who knows, as I had a friend visiting me in Brighton, I decreed it was just warm enough in cloudy April to dig my toes in the pebbles and walk along the entire seafront.
For two hours, the magic of Brighton Beach unfolded before us. Despite running away in terror from flocks of seagulls dive bombing poop at us, we clambered the entire length from the quirky Brighton Pier to the charred remains of the West Pier. Passing pop up stalls selling trinkets, abstract small art galleries, relaxed themed bars and a fairground to giggle on a merry-go-round whilst slurping on an ice cream, it surprised me how long I could easily spend on this beach. I’m not particularly a huge beach fan and I wouldn’t want to spend more than an hour getting sand in my shoes. However, as I checked out the Fishing Museum full of strange wares, I knew I would want to spend all day here.
Reaching the West Pier, I looked back from whence we came. To my eyes, I could see using tourist eyes that this is the picture what the quintessential British seaside resort that foreigners had in mind. A pier full of arcades, aggressive seagulls, a twirly delights of a funfair and of course, the cool sea crashing on the beach where people relaxes on.
With that thought in my mind, it was time for another ice cream.