Brighton Beach Memoirs

With the sun shining again, we had decided on a day trip to Brighton. It turned out we weren't the only people in London who'd had that idea...

Only my second visit to Brighton and, since the first time was for my hen weekend, I can't claim many very clear memories of the place. Though on that weekend, despite the huge amount of fun with horse-riding, llamas, chocolate games and clubbing, my strongest memory of that weekend is sharing a very small double bed with my big sister (bigger in age, not girth) in a tiny attic room and her spending most of the first night throwing up into a sink about two feet from my head.

Today was much fun, and once the kids got over the "where's the sand gone?" questions, they settled down for a few hours of pebbly games, making friends and swimming. After toasting ourselves on the beach (a little too much in a couple of cases) we headed along to the Pier for huge ice creams and a large dose of pester power. However, after Katherine pestered her way onto the log flume ride, the looks of absolute terror on her face told me that she wouldn't be pestering for any more rides...

So, with the kids full of sugar, we had a quiet(ish) rest in the Brighton Pavilion grounds, then fighting our way through the crowds on the two trains to get home - with the smallest of our group sleeping peacefully through the last part of the journey. And no sand to wash out from between our toes.

And yes, I wish I had my normal software available to straighten up the distortion on this tower.