let's go to Brighton on the weekend...

i'm sitting on the train for London Bridge with The Cure playing in my ears for the first time in longer than i can remember and in the best mood i've been in for ages, waiting at the platform in Brighton and it's been a huge day.

i didn't get back to base last night until 3AM on the dot. the day had been spent doing the regular job-search thing, looking for new jobs to apply for while the rejections rolled in from the interviews that had come before. i booted myself out and trolled through the 2nd-hand book stores on Tottenham Court Rd and managed to find a cheap copy of Thus Spake Zarathustra which i took to a nearby cafe and started reading while i waited for the 8PM meetup. the random group of internationals i've been hanging with on and off was meeting to see Waltz With Bashir near Leicester Square and i didn't want to head back to base just to come in again and regardless: louise was supposed to be getting some sleep so it wasn't worth disturbing her.

the movie was attended by some of the usuals - Adnan, Laura, Paul, plus a few newbies from parts various. the movie itself was artfully done, but left everyone emotionally drained and we hit the pub afterwards (The Crooked Surgeon, where louise and i had gone on NYE) for a couple of pints. louise joined us there with her luggage and we sat around until we got kicked out, then found a cafe in Soho and drank coffee as the remainder became 4 became 3 became me and louise sinking coffee and killing time. at a little before 2AM we headed for Victoria Station where her train was leaving for Gatwick, grabbing a pastie once we arrived - the first i'd eaten since the night before. by 2:30AM i was done - wretched and tired and ready to fall asleep where i stood so i got on a bus for home where i ready my book a little and crashed out... or at least tried to: i don't think i got to sleep until close to 5 after tossing and turning for an hour or so.

the clock hit 9:01AM and my laptop woke up and screamed In Flames at me. i'd hoped to get up a little early so that i could hit Brighton before the vegans and get a bit of a solo look around, but that didn't happen, so i jumped a bus and headed for London Bridge where i'd thought the rest of them were leaving from... only to find out that they were meeting at Victoria and taking a separate service. oh well. no matter. i picked up a return ticket, hopped on the train and off i went, screaming south-bound into the cold. it's only an hour to Brighton from London Bridge - a couple of stops in London before running express the rest of the way. i'd planned on reading my book for most of the trip, but then i saw the scenery and put the book away. as we got out of the city it seemed to get colder. frost covered the ground and the trees - pure white crystals clinging to brown branches, patches of white on the ground and the rooftops. just a light dusting in the stillness of the mist, cold and calm and enchanting.

it was just as cold in Brighton as London had been when i'd left, but cleaner, crisper, fresher. i beat the rest of them by no more than 5 minutes - some of the same old faces, plus John who's some sort of lighting engineer, Patrick who's in medicine and Eve - another Googler. Eve and i got chatting and i immediately comitted a faux pas by asking if she was Canadian. No, Seattle, i found out. crap. oh well, you TRY to be polite... we headed down streets with more personality than a schizophrenic while we all chatted, got the vegans booked into their hostel, then wandered the streets looking for lunch then the beach.

pebbles. smooth, round rocks. a variety of volanic types i can't specify past their origin forming a steep slope down into the water which was lapping calmly against them. as is my habit, i wandered down and dipped (in this case, a boot-clad) toe into it so that i could add the English Channel to the list of other bodies of water i've done this in (i misjudged the inbound wave and got wet half-way to my knees. i was incredibly glad i'd worn my waterproof boots because my feet were never anything but perfectly warm afterwards...) and we wandered around taking photos of each other, laughing and joking, enjoying being full of good food, out of London and having absolutely nowhere else to be. i was loving that i only barely knew where i was and was more than happy to follow one group or another around the place. people seemed to know where they were going, so i didn't have to and really: just how lost could i get?

Brighton is an odd assortment of things - sprawling, civilised seaside town, permissive hippie/vegan/alternative-sexuality hangout, playground for the wealthy and the uninspired, with tiny two-abreast alleyways, interconnected pedestrian malls (or at least streets which are treated as malls) full of music and book shops, arts and crafts, loudly advertised vegetarian cafes, pubs, restaurants and so on - anything someone on holiday might want to amuse themselves. it's referred to as "London-by-the-Sea", which is true only in the same ways as Bateman's Bay is thought of as being a far-flung suburb of Canberra. being only an hour away from London CBD it's commutable, and there are people who do it daily. it's also a quick, easy and pleasant place to get away for a weekend or longer, without the hastle of having to really plan too far ahead. i could have crashed the night there without a problem and still been back in town tomorrow for anything i might want to do with my day. i didn't... as much temptation as there was (and there was much), but that's beside the point. it's nothing like anywhere in London i've been to so far - it's happier (even in the cold), friendlier and cuter - the perkier younger sister to London's matronly spinster. it's a place that seems to takes itself only as seriously as absolutely necessary so as not to slide into the ocean, and it has an infectious vibe that gets into you and says "relax. no, seriously. have a pint, take a load off, forget your troubles, forget monday and just... chill."

wandering up the beach we hit the Pier and wandered around the rollercoasters and other rides and the air was full of laughter and frivolity. no arguments, no irritations, nothing to bother us, just good times and friendly faces. a group of us split off for coffee, i joined the group for the pub and wound up talking about art with SiJ, John and Patrick (sending a quiet prayer of thanks to Rapunzel for giving me a grounding back in early 2008 without which i'd have been lost), although they lost me completely when they moved into discussing Bacon which to me is something delicious and commonly associated with grilling rather than paintings. after a pint or two the groups joined and split and joined and split again, people heading off to various pubs and restaurants in the area.

i wound up in The Eagle (we were led by Fluf - a Brighton local who knew the best places to go), a dim place with a warm vibe and a tank full of tropical fish where i had another pint and the "Roast beef and horseraddish hash cake with greens and red wine gravy and a poached egg" which was just insanely awesome before SiJ grabbed me by the arm and declared that she wanted to go for more beach. what the hell? i thought to myself and after asking directions a couple of times we were standing back on the pebbles watching the waves lap on the shore, each time followed by the rattling sound of a thousand tiny firecrackers as the waves pushed the rocks up and down. we stood there for a while, arms around for warmth, chatting away and enjoying the lights on the Pier and the quiet, peacefulness of the scene. soon enough we fetched back back up in The George (a vegetarian pub) where we'd been earlier. by the time my party returned it seemed we'd missed a couple of drinks because Eve was pretty far gone, and the lads weren't far behind her. sadly, time was ticking away and in order to make sure i got a train out i said my goodbyes, declined the 7th, 8th and 9th offers of crashing space and legged it up the road to the train station and was in a seat 10 minutes later with one of my favorite old Cure albums playing - getting to finish listening to "In Between Days" which had been playing in The George when i left.

words can't express how much i needed today. interpretive dance would lack the subtleties and song would need to use two languages at once. maybe an extended, pacing, yelling rant would cover it, but that's hard to project into a keyboard. once again i'm wrecked, but i don't feel as directionless or hopeless as i did 24 hours ago. sure, i still have my sleeping problems that aren't going away any time soon, but it's been care- and stress-free and completely fabulous. i don't even mind the train ride back into town because at least it's given me the time to do some writing so that i can try to get to sleep an hour or so earlier. of course, i don't really need see the two russians who are drinking from a bottle of wine and making out like poorly paid amatuer porn stars across the aisle from me, but APART FROM THAT and the pressure above my eyes i'm the closest i've come to relaxed in far too long. thankyou Moonbug and thankyou Vegans. today was completely and inexpressibly lovely.