Over the May bank holiday, I decided to join the masses and make my way to the seaside — Brighton, to be precise. I had visited before, but never as an adult, and with temperatures in London set to soar above 30°C, I figured it was well overdue for a breath of fresh sea air. The moment my boyfriend and I arrived at London Bridge to catch our train, it was abundantly clear we had no chance of grabbing a seat — in fact, the carriages were so rammed that the train bypassed several stops to take us directly to Brighton.
As we made our way to the coast alongside droves of heat-weary Londoners, I knew the beach wasn't top of my agenda. For one thing, I hadn't brought a swimming costume, and for another, I come from New Zealand, where the beaches are pristine white sand and, even at the height of summer, are often blissfully deserted — the prospect of squeezing onto the pebbles with thousands of strangers held absolutely no appeal.
Instead, we opted to explore North Laine — a vibrant, characterful street tucked away in the heart of the city, boasting more than 300 independent shops, boutiques and eateries. It's all packed into less than half a square mile, and with the crowds gravitating towards the beach, it was noticeably more peaceful than the bustling seafront.
We strolled through the vibrant, colourful streets and winding cobbled lanes, popping into the various shops along the way. From jewellery to homeware, driftwood art and vintage clothing, there was truly something to suit all tastes. For me, it was the ideal way to while away an afternoon.
After a few hours of browsing, we settled at Mange Tout — an independent French restaurant tucked away in North Laine. Having travelled from London, we braced ourselves for a scramble for seats or being added to a lengthy waiting list, but instead we had our choice of tables.
Perched outside in the glorious sunshine, watching the world drift by, it felt worlds away from the mayhem of the seafront. We tucked into a delicious lunch — a breakfast bun for my boyfriend and moules marinière for me — washed down with a couple of drinks; we were on holiday, after all.
Following lunch, we decided we couldn't visit Brighton without at least catching a glimpse of the sea, so we headed back down through North Laine towards the coast. Along the way, we ducked into several shops we'd overlooked on our initial walk, before the ocean finally came into view.
I'd anticipated it would be heaving, but the sheer number of people sprawled across the beach had to be seen to be believed. As far as the eye could stretch in both directions, the pebbled shore was packed with sunbathers, paddlers and those sheltering beneath umbrellas.
Out at sea, jet skis darted to and fro, while one intrepid snorkeller ventured ever further from the shore. Far off in the distance, the outline of a wind farm stretched across the ocean, prompting us to venture down the pier for a closer look at the turbines sitting on the horizon.
Entry to the pier cost £1 each — yet another surprise — and on our way down, we wandered through an enormous arcade sitting roughly halfway along. It was one of two arcades on the pier and, much like the beach, it was absolutely heaving.
It was dark, deafening, and so stifling that I felt as though I'd tumbled straight off the pier and into the water below. Horrified, I quietly turned to my boyfriend and asked why on Earth the arcade even existed — "Who comes to the beach, just to be inside?" He shot back, "How often do you think the weather is actually good here?" He had a point.
The pier was certainly an experience — though not one I'd particularly rush to repeat. That said, if I were seven years old, I imagine it would feel utterly magical. There are fairground rides, candy floss and doughnuts, all with the sound of waves lapping beneath your feet.
Sadly, I am 31 years old, and the thrill of a fairground ride is well and truly lost on me. Once we'd made it all the way to the end of the pier, we agreed it was time to make our way back to London — but not before swinging back through North Laine for a well-earned end-of-day pint.
