Perhaps Brighton should be called Rainon because that's pretty much what it did the whole weekend. Yep. Pretty much all rain and no bright in Brighton.
I exaggerate. We at least had a sunny day on Saturday.
We, thankfully, had the foresight to know this would probably be the only decent day so we spent it hanging out on the pier
...eating ice cream
...and far too much "candy floss" (or cotton candy as it's called in my home country.)
Little Chancho, my life is good. Really good.
You have to appreciate it when animals figure out how to buck the system. Even if they are disease-infested flying rats.
This man evidently also had the good sense to know that he'd better squeeze in all his sun naps on Saturday before the torrential rans swept in.
This is the Brighton Pavillion which was built by one of the King Georges when he was a prince. He essentially got bored of waiting around for his father to die so he decided to skip town and move to Brighton and build himself a "pleasure palace" where he basically threw the Edwardian equivalent of raging keggers every night.
A good bit smaller than the Pavillion is the Brighton Fishing Museum. That's it. I'm serious. That's the WHOLE thing. And to think it's free admission. What a bargain!
But now, for the real reason for the whole trip to Brighton/Rainon in the first place. Jason Mraz live. Gosh. He's dreamy.
On Monday, before leaving, we hit the aquarium. Or "seafood museum" as Jason refers to it. I love how this little turtle looked like he was smiling. He had his head sticking up out of the water, hence the reason the photo looks split.
So cool how the reflection of the tile floor shows up on his belly!
Nice. "Wettest day in 50 years."
Jason amused himself on the train home with trying to fashion a small sculpture from the wire around the champagne cork.
And I smirked at him.