We woke up late and after some deliberation, we decided that a great thing to do on a sunny Sunday afternoon was to get the car and go on a day trip to the seaside town of Brighton.Apparently we weren’t the only other ones who had decided to do that…in fact we must have crossed or met half of London on the short narrow lanes which then finally turned into the motorway leading to the South. Brighton was packed. It was getting quite late by now (2pm), we hadn’t arrived and hadn’t had our fill of Sunday brunch yet as anticipated. We hadn’t even stopped for morning coffee or water and I was starting to feel a bit sick as a consequence. We circled the double yellow lines like bees around honey and we eventually squeezed into a tiny space behind some warehouse at a parking with a maximum 2 hour stay. Desperate times called for desperate measures, we would just have to return to the car when our time was up. For 2 hours, £2. Seemed simple enough…but alas no change. After turning out all the coats, looking under every seat, in every glove compartment, unzipping and pulling out the contents of every bag pocket, we just couldn’t muster up more than 75p in loose change. The machine wouldn’t take anything less than £1, so I waited in the car like roasting dog waiting to be saved by the RSPCA whilst my boyfriend went off on a Bear Grills mission into Brighton to find a cash machine or else a shop where he could buy something with a note and get change. Easier said than done on a Sunday, but luckily for me, he had cracked a window so it was all good.
Once the drama was over and the ticket paid for, we set off down to the sea front. The sea was blue, and the pier was bustling with people. I loved seeing the bravest of the brave swim in the freezing water with smiles on their faces. We hobbled along the cobbled beach and ate ice creams under the hot sun. A great thing to do is to walk right to the end of the Pier for a great view of Brighton and the water.
A large fairest wheel spun lazily in the soft warm breeze and multicolored wind turbines fluttered. The lights of the pier shone brightly and the Union Jack bobbed proudly. Large seagulls and plastic buckets and spades, candy floss and slush puppies. I enjoyed the view from a blue and white stripped deck chair and starred out at the charred remains of the old pier.
After some fish and chips, we walked along the promenade, past the many surfing shops and terrace bars. There was live music and the atmosphere was great. Were we really in Britain still, or had we been transported to Promenade des Anglais in Nice?
There was a mini convention, which was pretty much the icing on the Great British Bake-Off Blancmange. My favourite was a hot pink number, which had had the frame cut in half to reduce the mini in size. It was all kitted out despite its age and even had a bottle of nitrous oxide on the back.
We had gone clubbing the night before and I had stayed at my boyfriends house. Not wanting to do the walk of shame or look too much like Coyote Ugly, I decided to wear one of his smallest shirts over my dress. Had I had a belt I would have worn a slightly longer one as a dress and just got rid of my party attire altogether. I combined it with my espadrilles and sun glasses for an effortless look. So next time, forget the boyfriend jeans and go for the boyfriend shirt 😉
Le Pliage Handbag – LONGCHAMPS
Bandage dress- FRENCH CONNECTION (sold out)
Espadrilles – ZARA (sold out)
Sunglasses – TRUSSARDI (sold out)