Birghton and London
We awoke to grey skies yesterday morning; a bit of a change from the perfect blue skies of the day before. But we were undeterred, and went for a promenade along Brighton beach.
The traffic was growling along King Street, but we had the pedestrian esplanade just about to ourselves, with only a few industrious joggers for company. As we approached the pier we walked down the ramp onto the beach, past the locked up concessions, and down over the stones to dabble our fingers in the water. Then we walked under the pier (on second thoughts, not such a good idea - stinky!), up the stairs on the other side and onto Birghton Pier.
It was quite something - stalls selling icecream and lollies (including sticks of Brighton Rock) and tacky memorabilia (I bought a union jack singlet, just for fun); a big arcade sec tion with lots of games of "skill" and a tarot reader's van; a bank of pokie machines; a couple of restaurants and bars; and, right at the end, the fun park with dodgems and rollercoasters and the horror hotel. It must be insane when the music's playing and the lights are flashing and the whole place is crowded with people. But pretty much evereything was closed when we were there - I don't know whether that was due to the weather or the hour of day - so we could lean on the rail and look out over the green water in peace, disturbed only by the gulls. (Which are much bigger in Brighton than Australia - I'd be worried if one of those decided to come after my lunch.)
Then we left the tacky over-the-top seaside behind, and walked up to the Royal Pavilion, which was at least equally over-the-top, but in a completely different way. I'd read about it in Georgette Heyer novels, so I had some idea what to expect but that didn't prepare me for the experience: I've never seen anything like it. Prince George bought a farmhouse in Brighton to share with his mistress Mrs Fitzherbert, and when he became Prince Regent had it enlarged to become a Marine Pavilion. From the outside it's an Arabian looking building - minarets and cupolas all over it, some forming the ceilings of internal spaces, others merely decorative. It was described at the time by one commentator as a "turnip on a box", but I think that's a bit harsh.
We entered through a pretty sea-green foyer, which the guide described as "restrained". At the time, I thought that was an odd description - the furnishings were lush, the wall-paper sumptously patterned, and there was no shortage of gold leaf - but after seeing the rest of the building it did indeed seem restrained. After that we entered the long gallery, which has a Chinese theme, with wood carved to resemble bamboo. At one end of the gallery is the Banquet Room. Viewed through the doorway it's just another dining room, although on a grand scale - long table set with silver and crystal, big side tables, large fireplace - decorated in the Chinese style. But on walking into the room, my eye was drawn upwards to the immense domed ceiling, painted to look like the foiliage of a tree with some of the leaves made of green-painted copper and standing proud of the ceiling. In the centre is an enormous dragon, which holds in its claws a 30-foot long crystal chandlier. As part of the chandelier, six smaller dragons hold lotus-shpaed lamps in their mouths, giving the illusion that they're breathing fire. More lotus lamps adorn the walls. It's just astonishing.
And the rest of the building continues in the same vein - vivid colours, sumptous fabrics, lots of mirrors and gilt, and Chinese themes throughout. I can't write about it all here, although the 26000 hand-gilded cockle shells that adorn the ceiling in the Music room at the other end of the house deserve a mention. if you're ever in Brighton, it's well worth a visit. I gather the stables are equally impressive - I saw pictures of a big domed space with 60 stalls around the circumference - but we didn't have time to visit them. We recovered with some lunch in the Queen Anne tearooms on the upper floor (thankfully not Chinese-themed!), looking out over the gardens, and then walked back to the car and made our way back onto the M25 heading for London.
We dropped the car off in Staines, which probably wasn't the best choice, since we then had to take a taxi through terrible traffic to the train station, but we made it in the end, bought our tickets through to Walthamstow where my cousin lives, and caught our first English train to London Waterloo. The train itself was fine, although there was no room for luggage, which is a bit of a problem when you're travelling with three suitcases. We changed trains at Clapham Junction for Vauxhall, where we straggled our way down the stairs to the underground. Then through the turnstile and down more stairs to the Victoria Line platform. There wasn't a lift, which I gather is the case at most of the stations on the tube. It was challenging for us to get up and down the stairs with suitcases, particularly since it was the beginning of the evening peak hour, but we could do it. However, for somone in a wheelchair it would be completely impossible. I'm surprised they haven't had to install more lifts as an anti-discriminatiion thing.
The tube ride was uneventful, although very warm - I even contemplated taking off one of the six layers of clothing I was wearing! At Walthamstow we were met by my cousin and walked back to her place, which is very nice, with a lovely garden where we sat and chatted over a cup of tea. When her partner got home he cooked us a delicious roast chicken dinner followed by strawberries and cream - our first home-cooked meal since we got to the UK - and then we played a bit of Scrabble before retiring for the evening.
I've been watching the dawn through the windows while writing this, and it looks like it's going to be a nice day, which is lucky, because we've got a lot of sight-seeing to do!