Tag Archives: Brighton

Minimooning

Since Mr Osbiston and I will be spending almost a month in South Africa for our second wedding, we decided just to take a short break after our UK wedding. We have decided to call it a “minimoon”, which is a word I have borrowed from Bronwyn.

On Sunday morning we set off for our beloved Brighton. I know we’ve been there three times in the last year… but if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. We even revisited the uber-kitcsh Hotel Pelirocco and stayed in The Ophelia Fancy room.

A much needed bloody Mary in the Hotel Pelirocco bar

Of course, it being our minimoon and all, my husband made a special effort to spoil me. We had champagne waiting for us in our room and I was whisked away to the gorgeous Englishes Oyster Bar where we couldn’t decide who had the best meal out of the two of us.

Champers!

You might remember on one of our previous trips, Paul liberated Spider Pig from one of the machines at the pier. Not to be outdone, he was adamant that it was time for Spider Pig to have a sibling… and so I present to you… Angry Bird. Freed from Brighton Pier on 12 September 2012.

Angry Bird!

Unfortunately the weather was not what we’re used to. Apparently the end of the Hurricane Katia was sweeping the coast, which meant that walking anywhere from place to place was a bit of a nightmare. The upside was that we ended up spending time in a different part of Brighton than we normally do and discovered a whole bunch of cute little pubs that we hadn’t been to before. Seriously if you’re ever in Brighton you can’t miss The Spotted Dog (formerly The Hop Poles). The food is gorgeous.

Turns out size does count when it comes to weaponry

Now back in London, I can’t believe it’s all over but even though the minimoon has been and gone I get to keep my husband forever.

Birthday shenanigans

 

Those of you with eagle eyes will notice that I’ve updated the header on this blog from “The chronicles of a 20-something, music-junkie, aspiring writer in London-Town” to “The chronicles of a 30-ish, music-junkie, aspiring writer in London-Town”. That’s right, kids. As of Saturday, I am officially 30. I can’t quite decide if it’s a shock to the system or not. I guess in some ways I’ve been thinking about the concept of being in my 30’s since I turned 29 but in other ways, it’s 30… THIRTY! There’s a THREE at the front of that!!!!

 

But anyway, existential age-related crises aside, I have had a particularly lovely birthday weekend this year. On Friday after work Paul and I headed to Chelmo to join his family for bonfire night fireworks at Paul’s old high school. Of course, because it’s England, it absolutely poured, but that did little to quell the enthusiasm of not only the small children running around but also Paul’s dad. I had mulled wine so I was happy, although it does get cold a lot faster when it’s been diluted by rain. Wish they’d served it in Starbucks-like takeaway coffee cups!

After a delicious curry dinner and much jolliness around the table, it was declared my birthday at midnight and I was swamped with gifts from Paul and his family including recipe books (believe it or not there is a zombie cupcake book and I now own it), a digital photo frame, another beautiful cake stand, a digital photo frame, a book about the history of cooking, silicone teacup shaped fairy cake cases and Guess Who? (which is a board game for six year olds that I recently discovered and am happy playing all day). I don’t think I have ever had so many presents for one birthday. Talk about being spoilt!

The next day I got to partake in Paul’s cousin, Kyran’s fifth birthday party. It had little in common with my birthday experiences as a child. When I was a kid, you had some mates around to run in the garden and eat jelly… maybe play a little pass the parcel or musical chairs and if you were lucky someone might bring you a colouring book or a puzzle as gift. It was wonderful. Now it seems you have to hire out some kind of party venue and hand out designer goodie bags and every present is intended to outdo the next. Kyran’s general boredom as he ripped the paper off remote control trucks, monster machine garages, Ben 10 (WTF is Ben 10 anyway) watches and massive Star Wars battleships was palpable and in the end he settled for building the Lego Paul and I had bought him which was the smallest present by miles. I think I have to say I like my childhood better. The high/lowlight of the event was being cornered by Paul’s other cousins Finn and Jacob, who are 10, and being asked about our sex life. Apparently it was sex-ed week at school. Not sure what they’re teaching them but if Finn and Jake’s hand gestures are anything to go by, they’ve got a lot to learn. Unfortunately it meant our romantic home made dinner plans fell by the wayside as no one wanted us to leave.

Yesterday we headed back to our beloved Brighton, where Paul surprised me with a delicious traditional fish ‘n chip dinner at the Palm Court Restaurant before managing to win me a stuffed Spider-Pig from the arcade. My hero! Spider-Pig and I were both thrilled to discover that we were staying in the Ophelia Fancy room at Hotel Pelirocco. I’ll admit that apart from a couple of very strong cocktails in the hotel bar we hardly left our room but if your room looked like this would you leave?

 



Now we’re back in London and it’s bloody freezing but what a fabulously cool birthday!

It doesn’t have to be sunny….

I am not a fan of our new neighbours (do you still call them neighbours if they live sort of above and next you at the same time). We never heard a sound from the old neighbours but this lot seem to be dragging around bags of dead bodies from about 7am till 2am on a daily basis. This morning at 1am they were still doing their laundry with their kitchen light on and shining into our bedroom. I figure from now on I am going to operate my spider catch and release programme by putting them through their letterbox.

Fortunately yesterday Paul and I missed large parts of the carnival above by making a pilgrimage to our spiritual home, Brighton. I never thought I’d love anywhere as much as I love London but Brighton, I’d take you as my mistress any day.

A bacon sandwich to fuel the adventure

Characteristically it seemed like a great excuse for us to get dressed up and so we donned our 50’s garb and headed off on the train… any excuse to wear my latest Get Cutie dress and my new blue brogues. Unfortunately the weather was not what you’d hope to encounter at the seaside and we were caught in a miserable grey drizzle with howling wind but if I have to be honest I was there more for the vintage shopping in the Lanes than anything else.

Brrr!

I love the Lanes. It’s a place where the whole of England and America seems to have gone to dump their cool junk and unlike attempted vintage shopping in London where the so-cool-it-hurts sales assistants seem disgusted by the fact that you might be wearing ANYTHING produced post 1972, shops like Dirty Harry and To Be Worn Again couldn’t be more welcoming.

Snoopers Paradise...

... home of, well, everything...

We managed a fair amount of restraint. Paul wanted a belt and found one lying on the floor in Dirty Harry and paid a grand total of a fiver for it  and I finally replaced  my deeply mourned blue cowboy boots with a pair of pre-owned (possibly by  genuine cowboy) reddish brown ones that cost me £55 and look like they might survive nuclear holocaust. Happy days!

We even found the exact chest we want to put at the foot of our bed for a bargain £38 but unable to transport the damn thing we’re hoping it goes unsold until we can make some kind of plan to collect it and bring it home.

As the night drew in and the £3 rails quietly started to disappear indoors we decamped to The White Rabbit for a couple of beers and were swiftly set upon by a trio of very loud middle aged men looking for company. Oddly enough two of them were called Paul and so we ended up with a bit of confusion and I’m still not sure if the only non-Paul was joking about his crack habit or not… it was like a flash forward of Super Hans in 20 years time.

I’m going to leave you with that as I am off to make some jelly and pour it in the neighbours’ keyholes. Wish me luck!

By the time

Right on in Brighton!

I have sort of a couple of excuses for my lack of blogging most of which I will explain over the next couple of days but the primary reason was the fact that Paul and I fled our everyday lives for four days and headed for Brighton to celebrate his birthday.

I’d been to Brighton once before but I went with my dad… and well… he’s my dad and we have somewhat different interests. Paul and I, however, were in our element. We spent our first three days in The Jury’s Inn near the station, which was great apart from the bizarre breakfast… I’m pretty sure that beans shouldn’t taste like washing up liquid and eggs are better without added pubes.

Our room... after approximately 10 minutes...

We spent our days wandering around the Lanes from one second hand shop to the next mentally redecorating our future home with every possible bit of tat imaginable and raiding the vintage clothing shops’ £5 rails. I also discovered my new favourite shop in the word, Get Cutie, which sells handmade dresses based on 50’s patterns… in cup sizes so even those who have been overblessed with chest can wear them. Despite my cripplingly strict budget I couldn’t resist splashing out £95 on a long cap sleeve dress in a poppy print. Now I want to wear it everyday!

It's amazing what you'll find on the £5 rail!

We spent time on the pier watching the football and occasionally indulging in the “amusements”. Paul won me a mini-nipple ball and I had a brief addiction to a 2p coin machine but we survived with enough money intact to spend some time in the Sealife Centre…. try out the glass bottomed boat… it’s amazing…

Mini-nipple ball!!!!

Out last night was spent in Hotel Pelirocco, which does weird and wonderful themed rooms that have to be seen to be believed. We were in the Modrophenia room… I’m not even going to try to describe it but we really didn’t want to leave and I definitely want to stay there again.

Toniiiiiight, I'm a rock 'n roll star!

By the end of the week we had decided that we were going to move to Brighton when we have babies and in the meantime, we’ll just wait till Paul gets his drivers license and fill up the car with amazing bric-a-brac… I mean who DOESN’T need a Bakelite phone?