Putting aside for a moment my sometimes anglophobic antecedents, I really must ask why on earth a nation that claims to be a member of the ‘civilized world’ could possibly have invented, let alone continue to eat such an unfathomably vile concoction?? Jellied eels… The very name is so disgustingly evocative, its been in my head all day! Aside from the culinary ‘delights’ associated with good old Britania, myself and Isabelle had the joy of discovering the old skool seaside resort of Brighton. We had a cracking day! We took the train from London, which took us to the sea in just over an hour. On our arrival we visited the Royal Pavillion which is this mega royal palace built by George IV (son of the mental one, I think?) when he was but a prince, and its basically a complete folly (genetic?) and designed in Indian/Oriental style, with minarets and lots of guilding and opulence. Fab altogether.. Then we mozzied down through the winding alleys of ‘the Lanes’ were a fair few hairdressers live (it is the gay capital of the UK, after all) and lots of kooky little shops lie waiting to be discovered. We headed down to the pier and walked down it with samonella-free 99 complete with gone off flake and stale cone. We walked right to the end to the fair bit (most of which was closed..it is January) and went on a ghost-house ride thing. So funny… Mechanical plastic scary-things jumping out from all over the place.. Even got a few screams out of us! (Id like to add at this point that we were the only ones on the ride) Oh, I forgot to mention the Grevous Bodily Harm I suffered at the hands (webbed claws? Feet?) of a giant seagulll… I was standing by the railings innocently enjoying my icecream, when out of NO WHERE this bastard swooped down and grabbed half of the 99! I got such a fright because I hadn’t seen him and thought Isy had hit me over the head or something.. I didn’t realise what had happened until I looked down at my half-gone cone and Isy folded in two in hysterics. Even this couple beside where laughing! So after the rather Hitchcock-esque experience, we headed for shelter in the form of Ivor, the fortune teller, and his mini tinkers’ caravan. I got my tarot read for the first time and had to try not to laugh because he looked like Frank Butcher and was so hilariously theatrical. Not particularly insightful… I already knew that I was stubborn and a perfectionist who hates being wrong, thanks. We couldn’t return without purchasing a few sticks of the famous Brighton rock so we stopped off at this little sweet shop where the guy tried to explain how they get the writing that runs along the entire centre of the stick… Didn’t really understand! Anyway, after a walk on the pebbly beach, we headed back to the New Age vibe and i got a shiatsu massage to try and assuage the back pain induced from weeks of coughing. Finally, After our day of wandering, we retired to Darcy’s for a perfect wrap up to the day. A quaint little Tudor style cottage serving afternoon tea with scones and clotted cream and jam.. Im starting to get a sense of why its called ‘clotted cream’.. Well my arteries are.. Delightful! So we retreated to London on the 6 o clock train, feeling knackered and rejuvenated at the same time from the lovely sea air. Next stop, Blackpool!
