In order to get to Brighton from where we now live in Kent, it’s easier to take a 25-minute cab ride west to a small train station than go into Central London only to come back out again. And so that’s what we do today. It’s overcast and cool, 18 degrees after a record-breaking week of 30+ degrees. And we’re revelling in the cooler temperatures.
We always seems to go to Brighton when it rains. In the past five years, I only have one clear memory of a sun-drenched day on the front when the tops of my feet got sunburned in my ballet flats and my ever-present jumper stayed in my bag the entire day. It stands out as a perfect day because I won at crazy golf – something that very rarely happens – though I still lost every game of air hockey.