I might as well be honest, I’m absolutely tuckered out. Two days with insomnia and I’m nearly passed out on my keyboard at 9:30 p.m. I’d crawl into bed right now if I didn’t have deadlines to meet and nails to polish. Tea to drink.
So while it’s mid-December and the rain is pummelling my house and the neighbours are putting up Christmas lights and there’s 40 different musical jingles stuffed inside my brain resulting in some psychotic medley of torture, I’ve been dreaming of the beach. In my dear mother’s words: “It’s colder than a witch’s tit.” I’ve been pining away for England, in particular.
Here’s Brighton, my favourite little English seaside town. An amusement park on the pier, miles of beaches, and a rockin’ nightlife.
The water was freaking cold.
I didn’t ride the rollercoaster because something about flying out over the ocean at a breakneck speed made me a little uneasy.
But I did play arcade games and sunbathe on the beach.
My favourite place in town, however, was the Royal Pavilion: the seaside retreat for George, Prince of Wales, (Prince Regent from 1811). Brighton was my study group’s finale trip, and holy hell were we tired of Gothic cathedrals and Chippendale chairs and Rococo and stained glass and all the luxuries of the upper-class English.
But the Royal Pavilion? I wish the prince were still alive so I could call him up and ask for the numbers of his interior designers (Henry Holland, for one). The palace is a collision of India’s 19th century Indo-Saracenic style with chinoiserie accents. You’d think the whole thing would be a chaotic mess but my GOD, the COLOURS! The floral prints, bright pinks, deep blues, exotic paintings! Because in case you haven’t noticed I have a particular fondness for colourful things. (Maybe my obsession with floral patterns and the colour blue isn’t so obvious, but I’ve learned to repress some of my freak habits.)
Unfortunately, we weren’t allowed to take pictures so I have nothing to show you. But to understand what I mean, click here or here. Look for the ceiling dragon.
Other than that, I stayed up way past my comrades to get drunk alone in the hostel lobby and chat online with some friends. I didn’t make any new friends, other than Bagpuss.
It’s all about the connections, people.
