Wherever you go, there you are

K. and I are back from our wet weekend in Brighton. Without meaning to, I ended up indulging my weakness for out-of-season coastal towns: this particular location was quite lovely, with the shops on the pier dotted with boarded-up units, and the groynes and coastal walks quiet and windswept; the city centre was probably still a little too busy for my liking.

A lovely place, though, even if the bits we saw were oddly (and possibly unintentionally) quartered: North Laine with its alt-lifestyle shops, sex, graphic novels and piercings/tattoos; The Lanes, all lifestyle shops, silver jewellery, fudge and sweets in big plastic jars, Sunday-lunch pubs and tourists, tourists, tourists; Western Road’s branches of Peacock, WHSmith, McDonald’s, Primark, for people who just happen to live in the area; and the sea front for the turtles and seagulls. Not as cut and dried as that, of course, but still a difficult psychogeography to comprehend over the course of three days. Given the direct train there and the under-three-hours journey back, I imagine we’ll visit again at some point.

We’ve been home since half two; I’m still replying to emails. Proof positive that you can go on holiday and escape from yourself, but you’ll be there waiting when you get back.

This entry was posted in cliques, cultural, geography, location, psychogeography, society, tourism, trains, transport, travel. Bookmark the permalink.

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