Wetlook World Forum
Current time: Fri 23/03/18 21:51:45 GMT
Message # 72063
Subject: Reply to Laszlo re Brighton
Date: Thu 07/12/17 12:12:53 GMT
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Oops, looks like my reply to Laszlo's post 71982 must have got lost in the server failure. It didn't say much anyway, so here's another attempt.
You're really asking the wrong person, Laszlo. Wetfraser took lots of candid pics on Brighton beach, and various other people have mentioned it in recent posts. But though you'll find candid pics from 10 different British seaside resorts in my Flickr collection, Brighton isn't one of them.
I do know the place well - I had very good friends who lived there for many years back in the last century, and more recently used to have business meetings there periodically. And its an attractive and characterful city with several fine places to visit; and the South Downs nearby is probably the most attractive rural scenery in the south-east of England; and Brighton is the only place in Britain to have elected a Green Party MP to the national Parliament. And there are lots of characterful pubs with excellent Harvey's ale. And the world's oldest electric railway. And of course it has a beach. So I ought to like it. But I don't, really.
Partly it is because every time I go there for leisure there seems to be some major and disruptive event on - last time, it was some motorbike event, and the air was full of the stink of petrol and burnt rubber and the roar of tortured internal combustion; the time before it was a political conference and there were police, and barriers, and TV crews, blocking most of the promenade and herding people about. Partly, I think, it is because it feels too much like the West End of London, not like a 'proper' seaside resort.
And partly its the frustrating beach. Almost as much as wet clothes, I love walking barefoot in the sand - I just can't resist breaking into a run for the sheer pleasure of it when I feel the sand beneath my bare feet. I walk five or six miles in a typical afternoon on a beach, partly seeking out wetlook, partly just because I enjoy it. But you can't do that at Brighton. Brighton beach consists of steeply sloping boulders which constantly roll away from beneath your feet as you walk. It is quite simply exhausting to walk on. And you can't walk far along it anyway, because there are solid walls at intervals which force you back on to the promenade.
And the shape of the beach means you can't see the water's edge from the Promenade. Nor can you see very far along the beach from any one point at the water's edge, partly because of the shape of the beach and partly because of these damned walls. And if you go into the water it gets deep very quickly, so wading along in the shallows is not an option. For the seeker after wetlook, it is therefore a most frustrating place - I found I kept seeing women whose clothes had that slightly mottled look which suggested that they had been soaking wet half an hour ago, but because of the poor visibility and difficulty of moving about I had missed the actual wetlook.
To be fair I have seen a fair bit of wetlook there over the years - I remember in particular an Arab woman in jeans and a tunic who was wading with a young child, periodically crouching down to soak herself fully. She saw me watching and obviously recognised my sexual interest, because she kept waving me to come in with her and then started chatting me up in broken English - at the time I had two young children of my own and had no wish to get embroiled with another one, however much I might be attracted to the child's mother!
Yes, I do know that at low tide the beach gets a bit better - it flattens out, the stones get smaller and some sand even appears between them in places. But low tide at Brighton always coincides with high tide in the Severn estuary. Leonmoomin fans will know that high tide is the only time for wetlook around the Severn (which has the second highest tidal range in the world); low tide is only good for muddy fans, which I'm not. And I prefer the Severn resorts to Brighton, so always tended to go there rather than Brighton.
Perhaps my strongest recent memory of Brighton is of sitting in one of the characterful pubs (I can't remember the precise circumstances of why I was there) and there was a group of four people, age about sixty, at a table near me talking in French. At another table there was an Englishman of similar age on his own, dressed very conservatively in jacket, shirt and tie, who seemed to be getting more and more twitchy. Suddenly he went over to the table of four (who had just got up preparatory to leaving) and shouted "Vive la France - J'aime bien les Francais - Je n'aime pas les rosbifs". One of the party of four replied in a disapproving tone, in French; I couldn't catch much of what he said, but it certainly included the English word "frog". Then one of the women gave him a very condescending look and said, in a posh southern English accent "You see, we're two frogs and two roast beefs". That about sums up Brighton for me - weird.
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