oh yeah SALMON (16/8/2006)

From the city (and county) that brought you

comes another tale of the amusing, the silly and the downright bizarre. Yes, folks, I went to Brighton again.

After a night on one of these

I can't think of a better way to unwind than spending a couple of hours on one of these

  

by which time, you'll need one of these

Fancy a brew?

What is there to do when you're tired, hungry and at a loose end? Check out the local newspaper to find out what's on

 I wonder what that could be? Perhaps I should ask an expert?

If you've not got much time, you could always combine two activities

Bungee jumping and trampolining, one way to pack more into your life.

I like wandering around and taking photos, but I appreciate that some people may not be so fortunate. This poor chap can't afford a camera and has to draw everything, instead

I suppose it's cheaper in the long run.

After a good night's sleep, I'm all set for an expedition. I've got my cagoule. I've got my camera. I've got my bus timetable. I've got some emergency custard creams. Don't get me wrong, there's plenty to see and do in Brighton, but there's so much more to see in East Sussex and, unlike Scotland, buses and trains actually run to interesting places. To add to the interest, most of the double-decker buses are named after famous people who were born or lived in the area

 

After much dithering (inside one of the best record shops I have ever seen (Borderline Records in Gardner Street), I decided to go to Beachy Head. Sadly, I got on the 12 instead of the 12A and went here, instead

  

Eastbourne, where they appear to speak their own language

I just wanted to get as far away as possible

so I finally got on the 12A to Beachy Head

I thought about throwing myself off, but realised I'd left the rest of the custard creams back in my hotel, so I just walked about and admired the scenery.

One can lose all track of time up there, staring out to sea, watching the ferry from France sail into port

Damn, there goes the bus

Another 20 minutes to kill

I caught the next bus and made one final stop in the picturesque village of Rottingdean

where they named a garden after the man who made exceedingly good cakes

Oh, sorry, wrong Mr. Kipling

Oh, well

time to go back for the bus. On the way, I saw an announcement for one of the village's events

Eh?

Yeah, that's what I thought it said. You'd not see anything like that in the city.

Meanwhile, back in Brighton, everyone is gearing up for the weekend. A quick shower and change of clothing and it's time to hit the town. What about a pub crawl? That'll do nicely. Even better when the person you're meeting gets the names of the pubs totally wrong. We never did find "The Dragon's Lair" or "The Shattered Cannon". Pity. They sounded quaint. At least it wasn't Sunday

Early on Saturday, it was time to get back on the number 12 again to visit a "bloody awful place" (Copyright: a very wise man). This is how they keep the French out

They even tell you lies

You can pee here, too

or up at the Fort. Having said that, I'd not like to encounter any of this lot in a queue for the loo

Soon it was Sunday, and time to start the long journey home. There's never enough time to do everything and it appears I've missed my calling again

Never mind. At least I know it'll be safe to come back

I've a funny feeling I've forgotten something

What I learned:

The ice cream is 10p cheaper at the Volks Railway than at the entrance to the pier.
Costa sells soft drinks.
Pirates and princesses go out on a Friday night.
Binoculars are classed as electrical items.