Monday, April 02, 2007

Brighton Beach Memoirs


Me in Brighton
Originally uploaded by uncascrooge.
Apparently, judging by this photo, I was constipated on Saturday. Anyway, waking up late, flatmate Colin said to me, "Fancy going to Brighton for tea, guv'nor?" or something like that. And I was all, "Sure, let me just grab my turtleneck first."

So we hoped on the Tube and then the train and arrived in sunny - not ironic, but genuinely sunny - Brighton, a south coast seaside resort town famous for, among other things, hippies, Fatboy Slim, Julie Burchill and attempts to assassinate Margaret Thatcher. Since there were only a couple of hours of sun left at this point, we headed straight to the stone beach, where I pulled out my camera and made like a tourist, which I thought was fair since that's what I essentially was.

Behind me (don't get too close; I'm constipated!), you'll see the pier, which includes a funfair. Colin and I went on the Bumper Cars, which are called Rumpum Stumpum or Rockem Sockem or something here in England. ("Mini Dodgems" the internet tells me.) I lost a significant number of 10p coins in one of those machines where you suspend your understanding of the laws of physics and drop coin after coin in deluded that an avalanche of coins will fall into the slot and make you rich. We did not eat donuts, or crepes, or donuts wrapped in crepes, but it all smelt delicious/terrible.

This beaching and funfairing was followed by some walking, or "tramping", or walking actually. The walking went on for several, gosh, maybe half a dozen blocks before we settled down for tea (aka dinner) at a restaurant called Your Average Forgettable Seaside Town Restaurant. I had the surf and turf and the prawns (aka shrimp) arrived with their heads on - those beady little black eyes staring at me! - and I had to rip them off like a character in Frank Miller graphic novel.

Delicious, really, once that was over with. Maybe more delicious because of it. (Ha, ha! I am a man, you SHRIMP.)

Next, it was to the pub and to the Carlsberg, which, Canadians, is a beer that you don't have to be over 30 to drink here. Then, there was a devious plan hatched to woo women. Then, the plan was thrown to the wayside and we (read: me) moaned about our past mistakes and regrets and how the good ones are all snatched up, an expression that seems rather vulgar in this context.

Then, there was a train to catch. And that was Brighton. I'm sure the later nightlife is fun, so perhaps this summer I'll go back and spend the night. This was my introduction and - believe it or not - my first time in England outside of London.

This has been a post for Sarah Marchildon and everyone else who asks me to post about England and less about, uh, whatever it is I post about in this post-cat-posting era of On the Fence.

5 comments:

Sarah said...

Yay! I love reading about your life in England. It's way more interesting than all that other stuff you write about. Not that I don't enjoy your thoughts on theatre and Canadian politics but I'm much more interested in your personal adventures. This did not disappoint!

Also, aren't you, like, 25 or something? You are not allowed to gripe and moan about missed opportunities and regrets until you're way older! What kind of 25-year-old says things like "The good ones are all snatched up." Give your head a shake!

Amy said...

I am so jealous you went to Brighton - have been dying to go there for ages!

Will have to get around to it the next time I have a weekend off.

Love the photo.

Hope to catch up with you soon.

joncormier said...

You forgot that Brighton is also known for one of the greatest riot scenes ever put to film in Quadrophenia.

I think my time in London involved the same visit to Brighton, only I was there for Man U's stunning win over Bayern Munich in the Champions league in the final 30 seconds - where the English first learned about someone called Owen Haregraves.

"We are the mods, we are the mods, we are we are we are the mods!"

Cameron Campbell said...

jon beat me... you totally forgot about the mods and skinheads.

Christine Estima said...

and i wasn't invited?

i'm shocked an appalled, nestruck.