Brighton Life...
The first time I visited Brighton as an adult (as someone legally allowed to enjoy the refreshment facilities) I realised it was a very different place to the one I remembered ‐ the one I used to drive down to from London with my father on weekends because there was nothing nearly as interesting as the sea available in the capital. There was still the pier, almost identical to the one I used to know, a complete recreation of the one which suffered a tragic fire and still stood in skeleton form further down the sea front, with its conning stalls and doughnut stands, it creaky rides and pebbly beach, it was as if the town had grown with me, but the whole place shone now with a different, exciting vibe.
When I hit town it was the pride weekend. My friends and I stepped off the train, simply an hour's ride from central London and were swept off into the wave of colourful characters. There were constant calls and responses, the screaming of whistles that were being distributed, balloons filled the air a foot above our heads and there was a spectrum of tight tops on pumped up male bodies. Of course Pride was never just for the LGBT crowd, it was for everyone and it seemed everyone had taken up the invitation.
The only experience I can liken it to is a festival, except for this wasn't confined to a field ‐ it had taken over the whole town and everywhere you went there were friendly faces chanting and singing along the streets. Everyone was on their way to the green where the main events take place so we followed the crowds, immersed in the spirit of the whole event. I already had a whistle round my neck and was blowing along with the festive choir.
The whole place shone now with a different, exciting vibe.
When we reached Preston Park it was incredible and almost every piece of grass was filled with groups, sitting, chatting and laughing in the sun which shone proudly upon them. So we joined them and the day becomes a blur of coincidental meeting up with people from home, many a dance, a bit too much alcohol and music which embodied the whole concept of the week. The music was perfectly arranged, there were stages dotted around the park and a range of alternative entertainment.
The stalls represented the little people and you could find hand woven goods from across the globe, a range of legal drugs (which to be honest didn't do all that much to enhance the experience) and every type of food you could imagine to satisfy the munchies, if somehow you may have contracted them!
Brighton itself was perhaps slightly overlooked in this visit. I must admit I had no time for the roller coasters but I did however find my way to the lesbian themed club ‐ called Candy Bar at the time. There was obviously no resentment towards people who hadn't chosen the same sex path of life, everyone was welcoming and me and my friends fitted in easily, flirting with the bar maids and enjoying the overwhelming amount of female company.
The end result? Well from the vague understanding of what had happened ‐ which struck me in the morning, perhaps we all have a little of the Brighton spirit in us and I cannot wait for this year's Pride by the seaside. I will most definitely be there to represent the people of London.
‐ Kat Marshall
