Right, Brighton then.
Train journey down was a few hours and involved one or two cans / scotches (dependent on drinker) and many games of cards. Hotel was very nice, but only on the basis the rooms were 60% off. If I had paid full whack then the place wasn't quite luxurious as it likes to think it is. First to Doctor Brightons, a little pub next to the hotel with a traditional feel, a massive selection of drinks and a typical Brighton clientele. Then on to The Sussex where, surprise surprise, a quiz machine was found and fed a hearty meal. We fed ourselves at what seemed like a chain pub, but whose name escapes me. There was table football however, which drew the poade like any game / sport always does. And, it being poade, there had to be an edge - drink forfeits. Thus Greg was given Baileys, Vodka and Lime - a concoction that curdled immediately and had to be eaten with a fork, whilst Les was given Gin, green aftershock and soda. Mmm.
Poade and my goodself then unceremoniously dumped everyone (sorry guys), and had a jug of a vodka cocktail at a funky little chilled bar called Riki Tiks. From there to William the 4th, in which Poade was directed to head right for the toilets, only appear 20 seconds later to our left with a confused look on his face. Then straight to the Brighton Gloucester, where ID was asked for. I took this as a massive compliment (despite the "you'll need ID until you start shaving" dig from the bouncer), but we got asked a number of times over the weekend, so it's evidently a Brighton thang. We were undoubtedly the oldest in the place, but had a good time dancing to classics and moderns of the pogo inducing variety. Nack arrived. I attempted to direct us home. Poade successfully corrected my mistakes. Chips for supper.
Saturday. Half an hour at the hotel gym and swimming pool. Meet everyone at the end of the pier. Log Flume (dull, short, wet - much like me) and a loop the loop roller coaster (dull, short, dry). Then, it being noon, it was time for a breakfast of chips and mushy peas. Then a bit of wandering round the shops - bought a Jon Carter Nylon Pylon remix and The White Stripes single before we got thoroughly bored. Lots of little confusing streets it's impossible to get a grip on when you only have a few hours. So we promenaded along the Beach, that had the sports of Venice Beach and the stalls of Glastonbury festival. A bit of chilly sunbathing, then back to the Pier for some silly dancing on an arcade machine (much to the distaste of the 12 year olds camping there), then some crazy golf (because it's the seaside and you have to). Back to the hotel to refresh, one drink in The Victory Inn waiting to meet people, then an OK meal in Browns. On to the ubiquitous Walkabout, then once again a parting of the ways as Poade and deadman tried to get into Funky Buddha. Standing outside the music sounded great, but sadly that's as near as we got, since Poade had no ID, he looking 17 and all. Next door, we found the arc, where a funky time was to be found with some popular easy beats. Chips for supper.
The End.
Train journey down was a few hours and involved one or two cans / scotches (dependent on drinker) and many games of cards. Hotel was very nice, but only on the basis the rooms were 60% off. If I had paid full whack then the place wasn't quite luxurious as it likes to think it is. First to Doctor Brightons, a little pub next to the hotel with a traditional feel, a massive selection of drinks and a typical Brighton clientele. Then on to The Sussex where, surprise surprise, a quiz machine was found and fed a hearty meal. We fed ourselves at what seemed like a chain pub, but whose name escapes me. There was table football however, which drew the poade like any game / sport always does. And, it being poade, there had to be an edge - drink forfeits. Thus Greg was given Baileys, Vodka and Lime - a concoction that curdled immediately and had to be eaten with a fork, whilst Les was given Gin, green aftershock and soda. Mmm.
Poade and my goodself then unceremoniously dumped everyone (sorry guys), and had a jug of a vodka cocktail at a funky little chilled bar called Riki Tiks. From there to William the 4th, in which Poade was directed to head right for the toilets, only appear 20 seconds later to our left with a confused look on his face. Then straight to the Brighton Gloucester, where ID was asked for. I took this as a massive compliment (despite the "you'll need ID until you start shaving" dig from the bouncer), but we got asked a number of times over the weekend, so it's evidently a Brighton thang. We were undoubtedly the oldest in the place, but had a good time dancing to classics and moderns of the pogo inducing variety. Nack arrived. I attempted to direct us home. Poade successfully corrected my mistakes. Chips for supper.
Saturday. Half an hour at the hotel gym and swimming pool. Meet everyone at the end of the pier. Log Flume (dull, short, wet - much like me) and a loop the loop roller coaster (dull, short, dry). Then, it being noon, it was time for a breakfast of chips and mushy peas. Then a bit of wandering round the shops - bought a Jon Carter Nylon Pylon remix and The White Stripes single before we got thoroughly bored. Lots of little confusing streets it's impossible to get a grip on when you only have a few hours. So we promenaded along the Beach, that had the sports of Venice Beach and the stalls of Glastonbury festival. A bit of chilly sunbathing, then back to the Pier for some silly dancing on an arcade machine (much to the distaste of the 12 year olds camping there), then some crazy golf (because it's the seaside and you have to). Back to the hotel to refresh, one drink in The Victory Inn waiting to meet people, then an OK meal in Browns. On to the ubiquitous Walkabout, then once again a parting of the ways as Poade and deadman tried to get into Funky Buddha. Standing outside the music sounded great, but sadly that's as near as we got, since Poade had no ID, he looking 17 and all. Next door, we found the arc, where a funky time was to be found with some popular easy beats. Chips for supper.
The End.
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