By The Sea

I have been in a terrible funk

Feeling tired

And lonely

And miserable

And Mum came to the rescue 

Gave me a bit of extra money

So I could treat myself 

I take myself to Brighton

It's only an hour and a bit away from London by train

I had heard it was pretty

And had a hippy vibe

I disembark from the train

No map

No agenda

Just a day of being 

On the way to the waterfront 

I wander into St Paul's Church

You enter through the long cloisters

Inside the church

A man is having a heated conversation 

With the air

Or the spirits around him

He emphasizes each point with a flick of his hand 

Mass is starting in ten minutes

I wonder if they'll let him stay

I walk into a large room beside the chapel

There is a massive fireplace

Guarded by two stone dragons

There is a rich red carpet

The walls are lined with books

There are two comfy looking chairs

A warden comes in and tells me I am in the vestry

And visitors are not allowed

I apologize, I hadn't realized 

But I'm glad I got to see the room

Once I'm back in the foyer 

The warden closes the door

Private 

I arrive at the waterfront 

The beach is covered in pebbles

The water has a lovely light blue tinge

I don't know why, but I had expected it to be brown 

It is so lovely to see the ocean again

On the beach a small group of tourists is skimming stones

They remind me of my love and skimming stones along the river in the summer

My heart aches for him 

There is an art shop right on the beach

They are selling prints

And cards

And beautiful books 

The food shops along the beachfront

Are all closed

It is winter

It is not the season

There is a tiny fishing museum that is open

It takes five minutes to walk through

It feels like a relic 

All shells and fishnets and crabs behind glass

Turning to dust 

A looped video sings sea chanties 

I walk

With no real destination 

And stumble upon the 

Royal Pavilion 

It is like a palace 

The gardens around it

Are beautiful 

Spring flowers are starting to make an appearance

Though the trees are bare

And the grass is mostly gone 

I buy a hot chocolate

And wander around to the museum

It is closed on Mondays 

I don't mind

I walk up to the Lanes

Winding tiny streets filled with shops 

Though no longer the original buildings

The area "gives a flavour of medieval Brighton" 

A shopkeeper tells me 

The council wants to push out the independents

And bring in the High St tenants

More money that way

Of course the stain of commercialism is evident everywhere

Even by the water

The giant concrete monstrosity

That is the Odeon and entertainment complex

How they allowed it! 

It's a shame

The very reason people go there

Being eaten away 

Speaking of eating

I have lunch in a small cafe

Everything is handmade and fresh

Sweet potato soup and an apple, carrot, and ginger juice

The soup, juice, and cafe are all bright orange 

It reminds me of the book Misery Guts

The protagonist is an English boy 

Who is sick of his parents being miserable

So he paints their fish and shop bright orange 

From memory they move to Australia

The land of sunshine and happiness

Did you know that in Australia it is estimated more people

Die by suicide that road related deaths

I walk and walk and walk

I window shop

I wander in and out of stores

And chat to shop keepers

I imagine I am wealthy

And pick all the artworks I would buy

And where they would go in my dream house 

I end the day back at the beachfront 

I walk a little way down the pier

It is tacky and touristy 

I prefer the pebbles

The sky has been grey all day

And it is cold

But it has been the loveliest day 

The end.