After fraudulently being ripped off by one hotel, I managed to find a lovely french art deco (style) one with the nicest staff in the world.
Journey begins with disaster as Sophia has a nervous breakdown as she has forgotten her railcard. I assured her it would be fine, it was. Train is cancelled however, so we get on a different one without a hitch. There's something very reflective about train journeys, traveling 200 mph (or in this case about 2omph due to weather conditions) and bursting through the border of london, into fields and fields, miles and miles of green, or in this case white, it gives me a massive sense of relief and comfort. It looked incredible. I think London is beautiful, especially when appreciating it from a carriage sitting comfortably in a chair. Buildings upon buildings, centuries upon centuries all contributing to the city's heritage. Each building marking it's territory on skyline. I love that moment of realisation, of noticing nothing around you but space. It makes my head clearer.
To our delight, Brighton is ridiculously sunny, and bitterly cold. The best kind of weather. Feeling upper class (and lazy) we got a taxi to the hotel- too many bags, and not enough sleep all contributing factors to the taxi craving. After dumping our bags with the overly friendly (not complaining at all) receptionist we walked to the lanes. I had researched a thai massage parlour for Alex to get a traditional Thai massage, however restrained from booking as you can never quite tell with these places, so wanted to check it out before handing over any of my money. After discovering it was legitimate Alex was treat to an hour of being pulled and prodded with knees, elbows, feet and lord knows what else. I hope she enjoyed it :S. This hour gave me and Sophia a chance to catch up over tea and scones. Another English tradition I adore. The Mock Turtle on East Street was perfect. Loose tea leaves, wholemeal scones, which Sophia managed to somehow get more on the floor than in her stomach, and beautiful old willow pattern china everywhere.
Saturday night we had a three course meal, consisting of foie gras (I know I know I know... But I just cant help it, it tastes soooo goooood.) salmon (alex had pork) and chocolate mousse. All fantastic, and polished off with a bottle of red. After downing the remainder of the some Rose we started earlier in our room we headed out to a hilarious bar called Poison Ivy, some kind of lesbian karaoke joint with zebra print and a lot of sequins. Two drinks later we headed off to a Rockabilly bar, the name escapes me but it was super fun. A few Jager shots and southern comforts later, and the place is closing. Again, I demanded a taxi (apparently) which a "large" man then decided to jump on our car and cause a massive dent in the bonnet. FAB. THANKS LARD ARSE.
Sunday we had a fry up- although I cannot stand hotels that call it a fry up, and there's no grease on it. Kind of defeats the point in my opinion. Yep, not a fan of the posh fry up. We then walked along the pier, and played air hockey- I won, I ALWAYS win air hockey. I cannot express how much I miss living by the sea. I completely took it for granted my whole childhood. I love staring in the ocean until the skyline becomes the sea.
I love how Brighton has managed to keep that bohemian feel. After the multi nationals manage to swallow up everything independent, I admire how many boutiques still thrive in Brighton. Most other places in the country you'd see a ghost town or at least a few empty shop fronts where there used to be soap shops, or over priced costume jewellers. Snoopers Paradise is my all time favourite. Paul bought me an amazing 1930s ring from here last time we came, if i had more time/ money/ space in my suitcase I could've bought the whole place.
After another tea raid in The Tea Cosy, which was decorated head to toe with Royal Family memorabilia and Margaret Thatcher (worryingly) we had to go home. Boarding the train, batteries recharge, sea air in my lungs, I am ready for London again.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEXANDRIA.x.