Although it would be lovely to have a gorgeous, golden, soft sandy beach in Brighton, let’s face it – wet, polluted sand on a seldom dry English beach is never good. At least pebbles are clean.
As a kid, Brighton was my favourite seaside destination. I adored the pier (especially the ghost train and helter skelter), the iconic beachside carousel, the fish ‘n’ chips, the bungee trampoline things, the little knick-knacks and sweet shops, the mini art galleries full of brightly-coloured paintings, the penny arcade… there was also so much more to do here than in dreary Bognor Regis, which was my parents’ favourite destination. No offence Bognor.
Now, as a Brighton resident of five years, I’m not sure I could ever tire of the beach. Whether I’m sat by the ruins of the West Pier with my camera, reading a novel whilst watching the tide come in or barbecuing and drinking beer, I absolutely love it. On a warm, sunny day at the seaside eating an ice lolly (or enjoying a chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc) is when I feel luckiest to live here.