12 Jul |
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Not just any George, mind you, but King George IV. Or, to be more precise, George before he became George. When he was just the Prince of Wales, the Prince Regent; before he took the throne on the death of his mad father.  For while most of Britain’s south coast is filled with retirement villages better known for their blue rinse than blue seas, Brighton has always revelled in its offbeat pleasure-seeking charm. And thanks to old George, who made the town his escape from the stuffy Royal Court in London, it’s long been a seaside town with a taste for the hedonistic. More is always more in Brighton, it seems. From the flamboyant bars of gay-friendly Kemp Town to the indie shops that line hidden corners in the winding Lanes, there’s an energetic anything goes feel about this Sussex town. Even the famous pier – one of England’s finest – has a jaunty feel about it, its flags flapping in the distance as I wander along Brighton’s lengthy seafront promenade. My bags have been dropped at the hotel and it’s time to blow away some long-haul cobwebs. The town’s famous promenade is lined with beachfront cafés, but most are deserted on this blustery grey day and I find only a few day-trippers sipping tea behind the double-glazing of The Bandstand Bistro. I pull my jacket collar up around my neck and keep walking: past the merry-go-round doing its best to be cheerful against leaden skies, and beyond the boules court; France lies just over the horizon, after all. Grand squares of Regency architecture gaze out over the pebble beach that tumbles down to grey seas; a mirror of the clouds on this overcast Tuesday. My stomach is rumbling like the rolling pebbles when I finally reach what I’ve been looking for: the humble, but famous, Brighton Smokehouse. I have just one night on the coast before heading back to London, and it seems like any good visit to Brighton should commence with some crustacean. Jack and Linda Mills have been smoking fresh fish and crab here for 14 years, and it’s far and away the best place in town to enjoy a traditional crab sandwich. A small deli and kitchen crouches in an alcove under the promenade, while the wooden smokehouse sits proudly right on the edge of the beach. “My parents had a smokehouse in town in the ‘30s, but that burnt down,” Jack tells me, as he cuts thick slices from a bloomer loaf. After years as a fisherman, he decided it was time for terra firma and opened the rejuvenated Smokehouse: “We get all our fish and crabs from the local boats; either next door at Newhaven, or just down the coast at Shoreham. It all goes into the small smokehouse out there, and we only use the traditional oak and apple shavings.” Jack whips together a crab sandwich – the filling a deep brown from the flavoursome shell meat – and I take a seat on a small bench outside. There’s a weak sun trying to break through the clouds, but it’s still a quiet day on the beach; just a few flapping deckchairs to keep me company. The rich smoky sandwich (a steal at £3.20) disappears in a few bites, and with last morsels licked and napkin thrown away it seems only fitting to take a turn inside the Brighton Fishing Museum next door. Pay a little homage to the men who brought that crab from seafloor to my sandwich, I think to myself. For Brighton has long been a town where life revolves around the sea. The village that grew into Brighton is first recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086 as Brighthelmstone, and was for centuries just a humble fishing village. That, however, was before the previously unheard-of fashion for ‘sea-bathing’ took off in the mid-1700s. By the middle of the century canopied ‘bathing machines’ appeared on the beach, ready to be wheeled into the water to protect the modesty of bathers. Before long, fisherfolk were spending more time helping day-trippers into the sea than helping the fish out of it. The age of seaside tourism had begun, and when the Prince Regent – yes, there’s George IV again – expressed his pleasure at ‘sea bathing’ the resort future of Brighton was assured. It’s a chilly old day today though, and there’s not much chance of a dip in the sea for me, but on hot summer weekends this is a popular day out for overheated Londoners. I spend another hour or so browsing the collection of faded photographs and fishy exhibits before strolling off down to the pier. For the pleasures of salt-water dipping could only entertain visitors for so long, and by the Victorian age the era of grand seaside piers was in full swing. Brighton’s Palace Pier – to give it its proper name – officially opened in 1899, nearly 70 years after the Prince Regent’s death, but I’m sure he would have approved of its pleasure halls. While stormy seas grab at the pier’s cast-iron feet, the flashing ‘amusements’ that are the hallmark of all British piers are a popular attraction here. The ‘Tin Pan Alley’ of sideshow games is filled with strutting teenage boys and smiling girlfriends clutching stuffed whales, while the echo of a bingo announcer wafts out of the main amusement hall. At the back, the Galaxia and Horror Hotel rides rumble around and around. There’s nothing understated about the Pier, and only the ornate iron railings and fluttering Union Jacks still hint at the elegance that made this and other English piers famous around the world in the Victorian age of empire.  But when it comes to over-the-top architecture, nothing in Brighton – or much of England, for that matter – can top the Regent’s Palace. The Prince was rather fond of his wine, women and song, and the Regent’s Palace was his ostentatious temple to pleasure in all its guises. Built for the Prince Regent in fits and starts between 1787 and 1823, it’s the 1822 design by John Nash that astounds visitors today. Ornate Indian domes sit plump on top of the main building, while Islamic minarets tower above the quaint English garden that surrounds Brighton’s most popular museum. Through the front doors (entrance is £9.80), the richly decorated interior has splashes of both Chinese and Mughal influence. George IV was a passionate music lover and the plush Music Room hosted the king’s own band, as well as musical greats like the Italian composer Rossini, who performed here in 1823. Throughout the elaborate Banqueting Room and royal reception rooms the décor is a riot of Asian-inspired murals, tapestry and artworks that couldn’t possibly seem more out of place on the edge of the English Channel. And that’s precisely what makes it so loveably eccentric. After the blaze of colours and textures I give my eyes a rest with a gentle wander up to my favourite corner of Brighton. The cobbled Lanes that meander down from Brighton station (itself a landmark of the town’s history, opening in 1840) were once a maze of fishermen’s cottages and merchants, and are today perhaps the city’s most charming neighbourhood. In the upper Lanes, I find myself drawn into the indie clothing outlets and knick-knack boutiques; antique warrens and bo-ho jewellery shops. Closer to the Palace, and the worthwhile Brighton Museum, the feel goes distinctly upmarket with Dolce & Gabbana, The White Company and boutique chocolatiers lining the Lanes. Despite the price tags The Lanes retain all the character of old Brighthelmstone, and around almost any corner there’s an underground record store, bohemian coffee shop or cosy pub to discover. It’s early evening by the time I stumble upon the Seven Stars; a pub that – like Brighton – is endearing in a suitably schizophrenic way. There is English bitter on tap and Victorian pressed ceilings above, but the music is ‘70s soul and a queue quickly forms for the Wii console in the corner. It’s a pub for all ages, with a menu for anyone who likes their food farm-reared and local. Here the eggs are free-range, and the beef come from nearby fields. I savour a pint of Young’s Special Bitter – “We’ve got the best bitter in Sussex,” the bartender promises me – over a steak and ale pie, and debate another for a nightcap. Why not, I think, as I wave the waiter over. Old George would probably be proud. SIDEBOX: TRAVEL TIPS • Where to stay: There is no shortage of accommodation in Brighton, from family-run B&Bs to boutique hotels. As a rule, the closer you are to the seafront and the Regent’s Palace the more you’ll pay. The historic Lansdowne Place Hotel & Spa is a well-priced option, some 10 minutes’ walk from the Pier. Visit www.lansdowneplace.co.uk. • Getting there: British Airways flies daily from Cape Town and Johannesburg to London Heathrow. From Heathrow, take the Underground to London Victoria for regular train services to Brighton, about an hour away. Visit www.ba.com and www.nationalrail.co.uk. • Web: Plan your trip at www.visitbritain.com or www.visitbrighton.com. Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites            |