Sat in a cafe right now, the breakfast kind with catch-up conversations the walls, fresh bread being sliced, book furnishing the worktop inbetween the cups of coffee overlooked by painting from local artists. The staff are cool but know the routine. I’m in Brighton, one of the great cities of the UK.
Brighton is dominated by the mid-30s. Those who’ve chosen to leave or made the decision to never make London their home. Its inhabitants dress down but well. Professionalism concerns gourmet pubs, web designers, consumer drugs and offers of street massages. Its a well-known gay hangout. Where else would the Co-op supermarket play Saturday Night Fever as you buy your wine!
It has its own taxi colours. Its streets are lined with professional niches; barber shops, cafe bars, japanese resturants and specialist clothing shops all tumbling down to the long promenade, the ferris wheel, piers and pebble beach. The seaside and wealthy monied city always attracts old ravers, queens and the homeless. Brighton with its liberal agenda, warm temperatures, drugs and bohemian cultures has more than the normal share of the disparate living around its grand, old white-wash buildings.
I was in Brighton for three nights staying with Anna, my friend from many moons ago. Its always a positive experience with her. As Anna worked, I spent the day on the beach reading and taing pictures. Watching the Olympic Games Opening Ceremony on a huge screen with thousands of others and plenty of wine and vodka was a beautiful night with the sound of the nearby water lapping up the beach. The next night we returned to watch Jaws under the setting sun.
If I was staying in the UK, I’d be in Brighton, a city that never disappoints, with a vibrancy on the streets and peace on the beach.