Brighton. Well, what need I say? Guess I'd better have a go, after two days there. I LOVED my one brief madly-rushed afternoon in Brighton in January 2000, even at the height of winter. So this time I booked into a nice B&B in Regency Square for a night and spent as close as damn to two days as I could manage...and by Weller it STILL wasn't enough! So where do I start? Brighton is absolutely the most relaxed, engaging, friendly, HUMAN public place I've yet seen in Britain. And that's even with tides of noisy, often-obnoxious jumped-up insurance salespeople from London oozing all over the seafront, and the occasional air-raid-siren mega-tantrum from some capital-MC Middle-Class brat. Brighton SWINGS! and inspires like London should, and as I have always read that London used to. There is a section of Brighton for everyone, but between the Mod and vegetarian subcultures, it'll more than do me. "I could go on for hours and I probably will" but it's really hard to put the brake-pedal on when a place connects with you so completely. It has SOME rude, don't-know-don't-care-and-I-gotta-go-mate or just plain unfriendly sorts. Everywhere always will. But unlike in London, it is (un)usually possible to successfully avoid all of those while completing such activities as buying a cappuccino, some animal-friendly shoes, a guidebook, accommodation, lunch, a Harrington jacket, a taxi ride, outdoor gear, internet time (hey, no grunts!), electronic gadgets, shirts or a pint of local best. And then a very appealing young woman will try tenaciously for ten minutes to sell you some sunglasses you simply can't afford, without looking at you before or afterwards as if you'd crawled out of the drains, or simply pretending you're not there...whether you give in or not. At the very least she'll have the manners to wait until you're gone, and swear about you afterwards.
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