The dead centre of Brighton

A sudden invitation to go to Brighton to meet up with Mr Clipbeard for lunch proved irresistible. There are shops there you see, and that nice lady decorator has an obsession with shops. It is not just visiting then she likes, oh no, money must be spent in order for the full satisfaction to kick in. So we headed on the train from nearby Ford and were on the famous pier within an hour in the rain. Not heavy rain you understand, but that nagging irritating rain that you only seem to get in England, in summer.

Having become a little damp, something that in different circumstances may have been quite welcome, we took refuge in a very seedy looking bar, and, feeling like death itself I was then faced with a very real reminder of dead and dying as my picture today illustrates. It was a magnificent sight but a little too poignant a comment on Brighton in general and myself in particular for me to enjoy to the fullest. I also have a magnificent picture taken on the pier that will have to wait until tomorrow.

A macabre sight on a macabre sea front. Juan Les Pins in August just clinches it

Whereas the famous Brighton Pier and the sea front offer all that shows English seaside resorts at it worst, amusement arcades, roller,coasters, a fun fair, chips with everything, sweet shops and snotty nosed ill-behaved children who need a good slap, comprising the seed stock for the next generation of the uneducated great unwashed, the area around the station known as the Lanes is full of life and vibrancy. Small shops are stuffed with an amazing array of merchandise firmly aimed at the Bohemian, hedonistic, vegetarian  student and the gay fraternity. Tattoos and piercings were, for me, a little too widespread for comfort, the accepted opinion that a subtle tattoo can be alluring not having gained much traction locally, but the area is alive and buzzing.

Paradoxically, lunch was taken at the atmospherically disappointing Hotel Du Vin, disappointing only in that there seemed to be dozens of lively places where it may have been more fun to lunch, and probably a lot cheaper. However, Mr Clipbeard who, in his infinite wisdom had made the reservation, was in fine form and looking forward to reconvening for another go on Friday at Lords for the final cricket Test of the summer. This will be the last match in the series against South Africa, where England have just shot themselves in the foot by dropping star player Kevin Pietersen from the team. The reason given was  texting misdemenour, reported by the opposing team, a master stroke of undressed genius to get our star player, and the man who helped us gain a draw in the second Test and whom the South Africans fear the most, dropped. Seldom have I seen a clearer case of gamesmanship (not to be confused with sportsmanship), a dark art at which I am particularly well practised, achieve such a stunning result.

Sprog 2’s 18th birthday today will no doubt be another of her famous wallet lightening exercises, which began last night with an invitation to the pub next door to buy her a drink. She would not listen to excuses that she is not old enough, and accepted an apple juice with poor grace. I did however mitigate the damage by spending some time chatting to another young lady who can almost certainly benefit from opening an account with Currencies Direct to save money on foreign currency transactions. At least that is what I believe.

Chris France