10-21 and 22 Around Brighton

10-21

I awoke as a pretzel. Dear Monty, the kitty I’m sitting for, has decided that his favorite place to sleep is at the foot of my bed. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m one of those people who can never disturb a cat, even if it means I have to fold myself into an origami crane to avoid it. At last, Monty hopped off the bed, but was back about ten minutes later so I gave up and got up. The terribly windy night had turned into a terribly windy and rainy day. I read the papers and spent the morning with Monty who had finally deigned to come downstairs.

Bruce went pub crawling, I wrote a bit then met him for a walk into the village and up the

hill to the Ladies Mile which, I read, is a nature reserve. There’s a Ladies Mile pub (of course) and across the street is the Ladies Mile clock tower.

The Patcham area is certainly quiet, but it’s so close to Brighton and Hove, so would be a perfectly lovely place to live, I’m sure, but any place close to the sea holds a real attraction to me. Once home, I had a cup of tea, but my head was nodding from lack of sleep, so I gave up and took a nap, unaided by feline companionship.

Had a quiet evening of telly.

10-22

Monty had slept with us every night, so when he didn’t appear on the bed I was a little concerned. I woke up several times in the night and still, no Monty. When I got up at about 7:00, still no Monty. All I could think was, “Great, I’m going to have to admit that their precious cat disappeared on my watch.”

As we were having our morning coffee, I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye. Monty? No – a fox! A gorgeous, huge, brindled fox! He appeared from the side of the house and made his way across the back yard, down the side of the house past the summer house, and disappeared. So cool!

I did some preliminary packing, laundry, had breakfast, still no Monty. I had almost given up when Monty appeared through the cat flap. Hurrah! You naughty boy, don’t you ever do that to me again!

So, Monty accounted for and breakfast finished, we headed into town and stopped at the Open Market. We thought Sunday would be a really hopping day but it turns out that almost none of the stands are open on Sunday. Boo. So off we walked toward the sea. We hadn’t checked out the street leading to Kemptown so off we went. Well, almost everything there was also closed. This didn’t look like it was going to be my day.

We headed to the seafront and since we hadn’t ever walked the pier, we decided to go for it. It’s like a typical old fashioned fair or amusement park with roller coasters, bumper cars, a carousel, kiddy rides and, of course, junk food. Last year when we were in Wales, we were on a similar pier and had hot doughnuts.

Now, that doesn’t sound particularly exciting, but they were fabulous: light and fluffy, hot out of the fryer, coated in sugar. So when I saw hot doughnuts on the Brighton Pier, I had to have some. We walked down the pier a bit waiting for them to cool down enough to eat. I took one out of the bag and took a bite. Suddenly, something smashed into my head and scratched the side of my throat. It was a seagull. They wait for unsuspecting tourists to blithely stroll down the pier with doughnuts in their hands so they can strike. It was kind of shocking but at the same time pretty hilarious. What made it even funnier was that when I turned around there was a couple cowering by the wall looking absolutely petrified. It made me laugh out loud. Of course, now the seagulls had me in thier sights. They were diving and crying and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Any time I wanted one of my remaining donuts I had to face a wall and sneak a bite. It was a uniquely Brighton Pier moment. We walked the pier, watched the kids on the rides and headed back toward the city.

I realized that I had never waded or even touched the water, so across the stony beach we trod. When I say the beach is stony what I should say is that technically it’s a shingle beach. According to Wikipedia, “Shingle beaches are rare, made up of thousands of smooth rocks with varying geological qualities. The ocean naturally smooths the various rocks over time with crashing waves.” I always look at the rocks to try to find a stone with a hole worn into it. I couldn’t believe my luck – I found one! So on to the sea. These shingle beaches are pretty hard to walk on. You slip and slide and there’s never a time when your feet hit sand. Anyway, not knowing the temperature of the water, I stuck my hand in. It was cold, but not terrible. But if I removed my shoes, I’d have to walk those little stones in my bare feet. I had visions of 6-year-old me walking over the rocks at Horseneck Beach in Westport, MA. Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch. Nope. Settled for sticking my hand in the sea in Brighton. Then it was on to my favorite ice cream stand for one last cone. I had my favorite honey and ginger ice cream, Bruce chose Devon toffee. Damn, it was fabulous. I almost went back for a second scoop.

In the spirit of “one for you, one for me” we then headed to a pub, the Victory Inn, which dates to around 1900. Not at all old by Bruce’s standards. It did have the distinction of being the first pub I’ve ever been in that serves a Sunday roast…for dogs. Brits are mad for dogs, and this seemed to me to be the ultimate example. After a quick pint for Bruce and a faux-Aperol spritz for me, we made our way to the bus stop and then to the Co-op grocery store for supplies for tonight’s dinner. Graham and Karen were returning and I wanted to make dinner for them after their long drive from Cumbria. Arrived at the bus stop and made our last trudge up the ridiculously steep hill that led to their house. (It didn’t get any easier with repetition.)

Karen and Graham hadn’t returned yet, so I got my dinner prep started. Thank goodness I didn’t know at the time that Karen had been a caterer in a prior life. Actually, Karen is a ridiculously accomplished. In addition to catering, she’s been a teacher, a solicitor, and owner of a soliciting firm. Now she’s an artist, doing pottery, glass, painting – what can’t this woman do? And I feel that I should add that Graham is equally impressive. After a career as a biochemist, he has become an immensely talented photographer. As though that weren’t enough, they are the sweetest, kindest, most interesting people. This had been an amazing sit.

Anyway, Karen & Graham arrived, unpacked their car and finally had a chance to relax. They’d been in Scotland during the terrible storm and flood which, happily, they avoided. Monty was thrilled to have them back and they were thrilled to see him again. We caught up, then did our own little tasting of the gins from Madame Jennifer. I started to pull dinner together. Note to self: don’t drink gin and enjoy wonderful conversation when you need to concentrate on timing. Long story short, dinner was fine (not great) but the company was lovely and very forgiving. After dinner, we retired to the living room for Metaxa 5 stars for me, and scotch for Graham and Bruce. That was quite a departure for Bruce who is not a big fan of scotch, but Graham introduced him to two wonderful scotches which he loved. After great conversation, I could sense that our hosts were flagging, so we all retired, including Monty.

While we've been in Brighton, there has been a "Shaun by the Sea" art trail featuring statues of Shaun the Sheep decorated by organization and individuals. (It's like Cow Parade in Zurich and New York and the Pigs on Parade in Seattle.) The sheep will be auctioned off on November 5th with proceeds going to Martlets Hospice. We didn't find all of them, but here are some we did find: