On Friday, Ruth and I went to Brighton on the train. I’m rather well known for carrying snacks around in my purse, usually baked goods. There was one (in)famous brownie from Borough market that lived in my purse for well over a week, available to anyone who fancied a nibble.
For the trip to Brighton, my purse supplied a croissant, which was delicious. Here it is, slightly decimated:
When we got to Brighton, I was less organized than usual, having saved the information for the hotel on my laptop. Which meant I had to pull out my computer every time we got a bit lost:
That said, the hotel was actually very easy to find. We stayed in Blanch House, and it was absolutely stunning. Our room was called Alice. Adorable!
And Brighton itself was gorgeous:
Especially at night:
And mostly because Brighton is this big, bold, artsy-fartsy community. Here’s some of the awesome graffiti art that’s all over the place:
The first day we were there, we met up with my cover artist, the lovely Sharon Tancredi, and her partner, Johnny, for drinks and a delicious dinner at Blanch House’s restaurant. Sharon is absolutely adorable in person, and it was wonderful to spend time with her. It was a low key night, as I was still a bit jet lagged, but here’s a pic of Sharon and I at the pub after dinner, and a lovely piccy of the moon on the water, from our walk home that night:
The next morning was a bit of a wash out, weather wise. We went to breakfast, and then I somehow managed to slip in a wee nap while Ruth checked email. And by “wee nap” I mean sacked out, snoring, for a solid hour. I blame the jet lag! After which we went to the Laines to do some shopping and eat lunch. But first, we had to make it to the Laines without getting completely sodden. Ah, the glory of the English summer!
For lunch, naturally enough, I had an English breakfast. The first of what I hope will be many a fry up. This one was very, very tasty:
That’s my fry up face. It’s a happy face. After stuffing my gob full of English breakfast, I also managed to shove in a load of frozen yogurt.
That’s my, “stop taking picture of me stuffing my face,” face. And what is that lasciviously named bag next to me?
After lunch, we went shopping and (por su puesto) wandered into Brighton’s local sex shop, called Lust. It was a lovely store, and we found what is probably the most inappropriate Jane-related gift, ever. It’s a vibrator . . . that’s a seal. Needless to say I had to buy it, and Ruth later entertained herself by creating a series of Still Life with Seal Vibrator shots at the hotel. They turned out quite artistic, if I do say so myself. Our Ruth is quite the artist!
That night we dressed up:
and went to Komedia, a comedy club, with Sharon:
It was a great night of stand-up, and the walk home felt like a proper night out in Britain on a weekend. First we helped pull a woman out of the road who was either passed out or faking it to piss of her boyfriend (but was definitely more booze than lady at that point), and then we had a gentleman try to make us complicit in his attempts to wank off on the promenade. Aaaah, binge drinking!
Very soon after the experience with the (literal) wanker, Ruth thought we needed photographic evidence of our night out. What she didn’t tell me was that, in the first photo, we were supposed to be documenting our reaction to our pud-pulling acquaintance. So my own expression is rather inappropriate, under the circumstances:
The next morning we went to Brighton Pier, where we wandered about, taking overzealous photos with dummies (as we are wont to do)
And just enjoying the lovely, lovely day:
Right after Brighton Pier, Ruth left for home so that she could visit her dad in hospital. And then joined him IN the hospital, when she came down with appendicitis and had to have her appendix removed.
Meanwhile, I went to dinner at Sharon’s flat (which was everything I wanted it to be–bright, lovely, and warm like the woman herself), and then came back to London to await the patient!
But I’ll blog those adventures later. These are enough for now.
To tide you over until then, here is your moment of seal-sex toy zen:
It has a face! With whiskers! And it doesn’t look very happy. Poor seal vibrator!
