This weekend, I went away to Brighton for my friends birthday. Josh is now the grand old age of 24 and we celebrated in style, with wine on the beach, trips to The Lanes and some of the best falafel I have ever had.
I had only ever been to Brighton in the rain before. It’s such an ‘English thing’ to be so dependent on the weather, but the sun really did make such a difference to our trip. I had never even seen The Lanes before this weekend, only the back – ends of the shopping centre and the beach when I was around ten, and got frustrated with the stones not making the perfect castle with my bucket and spade.
If like me and Josh, you are a fan of vintage clothing and one – off finds (that my parents often mistake for ‘garbage’), then you will love Snoopers Paradise in the centre of the North Laines, ideal for finding old magazines, furniture and clothing. Brighton Flea Market is also good – located down Upper Saint Jame’s street, nearby to trendy jazz bars, cafes and a short walk away from the pier.
Our weekend went far too quickly and I know that there is far more of Brighton I want to see/ sea (!) – this sunny weather has certainly given me a new – found love for the city, and I can’t wait to hop back on the train and flock there again. This time though, I will bring my sun cream. All that sitting on the beach did nothing for my Albino – esque complexion.
My friend Josh is brave. He drives and doesn’t get lost, ever – unlike me. We both had the same driving instructor. He shouted at me so I sacked him. He shouted at me because I nearly drove into a post. Fair play to him when you think about it now, my 18 year old self was a lot more sensitive. Even now though, I try and avoid driving when possible. It isn’t really something that comes natural to me and if anything has become a fear. People find this weird, but I think it is far more reasonable to be scared of potentially running someone over, than a small spider that can do you no harm (spiders in the UK that is).
Anyway, as the title of this post suggests, I didn’t come on here to chat about driving. Josh – brave at driving – took us out to Richmond in the car on Sunday, found a golden ‘free parking’ spot and showed me the way to Petersham Nurseries (which from now on will be abbreviated to PN)- “you will like it, I promise”, he said as I reluctantly agreed to walk across a field of cows and horses to what I could only assume was going to be a high class Nottcutts. Wrong!
From what I saw of PN, it looked lovely. Everyone was dressed so swish, everyone being over 50 or American or very, very wealthy. I asked Josh if he felt poor and he said “well no, we live nearby too” – darn right we do! Of course, being our luck and all, PN was closed for a private function, meaning we couldn’t actually go in. However, we ended up following a large group of people down a side alleyway to Petersham village, where all the gardens were open to view. It was so sweet and I have made a mental note to A, always listen to Josh when he suggests somewhere to go, B, take my Grandma there sometime soon and C, take any international visitors to Petersham – the definition of ‘great’ Britishness.