Hen Weekend (A.K.A Yooo slaaaaaaggggggs)

Just returned from a hen weekend in Brighton town. Despite the above title, the assembled company were not your average shrieking barbie-doll bints, but a fine mixture of Norn Irish and English city high-fliers, mother-in-law, and...er...me. I admit I was looking forward to it like a baseball bat to the face, but there is a certain advantage to being a pessimist. Sometimes, you're pleasantly surprised....

Brighton was lovely, very pretty and vibrant. Our hotel was on the seafront overlooking the shell of the West Pier. Helped by the blustery (more like gale-force) weather and dark skies, and my own penchant for staring with wonderment at old architecture, I found myself slightly moved by its decline. Quite how someone thought fit to douse it in petrol is beyond me. But I suppose there is something to be said for leaving certain things to decline. Decay can be beautiful. It's just a shame that it couldn't be left to rot slowly, rather than condemned in one big ball of flames. And definitely wish I'd bothered seeing it before it slipped into the sea. Anyhoos, here's a piccie of the old girl when she was most of the way to falling down...

There's something to be said for the East Pier and its tackarama, though was most disappointed that it was too windy to go on the upside down rollercoaster. Then again, having settled for a lesser ride, that simply span me around very high up, and creaked and jerked around like it was just about to dismantle itself, I probably should thank my lucky stars I didn't get to ride it...

Anyway, back to work and all that. Bah. Cycled in today for the first time. TFL journey planner told me it would take 48 minutes. In fact it took me 2 hours!! And I didn't even stop at the fricking hills. Though I did go round Finsbury Park approximately ten times before I found the right road, so maybe that explains it.....