If you want to see this Brighton, I suggest you do not follow my steps, and avoid a trip to the Sussex city in February. I was there for 23 hours and it rained solidly the whole time. The WHOLE time.
But hey, I'm British, so I persevered. And I'm pretty sure I made the most of my time there. I may have returned home with cold, soggy socks but they were well-travelled soggy socks.
The reason for my trip to Brighton was to attend the Ryan Adams show at the Brighton Dome Concert Hall. Without getting too embroiled in one of my favourite pastimes of fangirling over this incredibly talented musician, it was one of the best shows I've seen in a long while. But it wasn't just the music that made the visit to the Dome so enjoyable. I had heard how beautiful the building was from many people; to see it for myself was a real treat. The entrance foyer alone is a work of art. It wears its Art Deco legacy well and even the little details adorning much of the building make you feel like you're getting a glimpse into the past.
Earlier that day we had explored the famous Brighton Lanes. This also felt like a trip backwards in time as we darted down the cobbled alleyways, ducking into almost forgotten shops such as antique jewellers and milliners. Hoods up in an attempt at protection against the stubborn rain, we jumped puddles to get to newer additions to the constitution of The Lanes. Dog accessory shops and speciality cupcake bakers have found a fitting home in this part of the city. I'm not sure which I enjoyed looking at more: the ridiculously beautiful works of art that are actually creamily delicious baked goods, or unbelievably cute dogs dressed up to the nines in the latest fashion trends. One French Bulldog was sat so still in the middle of a shop that I thought they even had dog mannequins before he bolted out the door to retrieve a tempting bone.
As darkness swept in, helped in no small part by the dark clouds and driving rain, we headed for the beacon of light that is Brighton Pier. Stuck out into the churning English Channel, it beckoned me with its teasing neon lights, fairground music and the wafting smell of freshly fried doughnuts. Running along the seafront, we didn't seem to move anywhere very quickly. The wind was so ferocious that it was like being in a wind tunnel; I'd long given up on my brolly but had struggled to even put it down in the horizontal wind conditions. After much fighting against Mother Nature, we bundled into the glowing warmth of the amusement hall. I was just about aware of the flashing lights and jingling sounds surrounding me; I couldn't see much as every inch of me, including my much-needed glasses, was covered in rain. I think I'd have been as soaked if I'd have gone for a dip under the pier.
Still, there was money to be won, so we had to focus. I changed up 30p into the familiar pot of bronze tuppences. We threaded our way through the crowd to search for machines ripe for us to pick some winnings from. I won some. Then I lost some. Then I won some more. Then I lost the lot. Gah. Big corporations win again; I'll never see that 30p again.
But fear not. On the way out, before heading back into the incessant rain, I paused at a sweetie shovelling game. I wished my 20p luck as I inserted it into the slot. With baited breath, I pressed the button to load up the digger arm. In what seemed like slow motion, the arm released the sweets and they tumbled into the winning chute. Winner! I collected the booty (two fizzers, refreshers and two lollies) and stuffed them into my soggy pockets.
I think I left Brighton Pier richer than I arrived. I loved the thrill of the gamble and 50p was well worth the experience. And the sweets just topped off the arcade fun. That's the Rock 'n' Roll spirit!
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