Brighton

On Saturday we and the Thomases trained it out to Brighton to see what the English seaside was all about. I think it's safe to say that the English seaside is not about the seaside at all, but instead about all the trappings they've constructed around what they think is a beach; fools! The pebbles were nice and clean and fun to walk on, but a beach it was not.

While other beaches might attract the beauties of society, Brighton beach does not.

Brighton is no 'Muscle Beach', and the babes are few and far between. We were, however, lucky enough to spot an old lady with one breast hanging out.

Anyway, we had a fine time enjoying the trappings of Brighton 'beach'. Eating cod and chips, having a beer, and going round on the merry-go-round.

The Royal Pavilion (built by the son of mad King George III) is one of the weirdest buildings I've ever seen. The whole thing, inside and out, is faux-oriental/eastern. It's hard to describe the interior (no pictures allowed); it's like the people who built it never went to China, but instead were told what chinese art and decoration looked like, and then asked to imitate it. Odd, odd, odd, but very interesting.