Maybe I’ve been on holidays too long, or maybe I’m seeing things as they are. Anyway, got the tube to Victoria, then a Southern Trains EMU to Brighton. It’s famed for having a fabulous nightlife. I certainly hope that’s true because it’s very uninspiring as a beach resort; almost laughable in fact.
Brighton Beach – I came, I saw, I laughed, I went home
Once out of London heading for Brighton the countryside is more interesting than usual. A few hills and much more forest than on previous trips. On the way down there was one girl who made a loud corporate phone call that lasted for the entire duration of the trip (about an hour). She was discussing different applicants for a job, often in very patronising ways. Said, ‘Do’ya know wot I mean?’ about a thousand times.
Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside
One thing did impress me though; the driver of the 1106 to Brighton. His announcements would put the most professional airline pilots to shame. ‘Good morning and welcome to the 1106 service to Brighton, calling at Clapham Junction and West Croydon. We departed on time and, with no anticipated signal or maintenance delays, expect to have you alighting at Brighton at 1203.’ All said in clear, beautifully intonated, well paced language. Should get an award!
A shingle beach and a burnt down pier – Who could ask for anything more?
I’m probably being unfair. It must be a great getaway from London, and the Brits do like that promenade and pier combination thing. But there’s no surf, there’s no sand, there’s no flags to swim between, no bluebottles, no hot chicks in bikinis, and no waxheads in boardies and thongs comparing wetsuits and bragging about who has the grossest lip sores. It’s just not a beach as I understand it.