|Water, wine and kir royale|
Just back from a weekend away in London and Brighton, and feeling so much better for the break, if a little ashamed at how little I have to show for it other than a few extra pounds piled on. One of these days I’m going to learn how to do a proper city break. I’ll wander round galleries and museums, I’ll admire historic monuments and go to the theatre. I will be sophisticated and super-cool and my clothes will reek of metropolitan chic.
|Pause at the Royal Pavilion|
As it was, I by-passed all London’s cultural attractions while in Brighton I’m ashamed to say that we did little more than a pause outside the Prince Regent’s fantastical Pavilion, familiar to anyone who’s read Georgette Heyer’s Regency Buck. We did quite a bit of walking instead, around the Lanes, along the famous pier, and through the crowds massing along the seafront for the Brighton Burn Up. We felt a teensy bit out of place amongst all the motorbikes and black leather, I have to admit, but it was a great atmosphere on a bright, blowy day and eventually we left the crowds behind and could walk with just the sea and a lone gull for company.
|Brighton Burn Up - a lot of bikes!|
All that walking was just as well given how much we were eating. We worked our way round a selection of the world’s cuisines – French, Korean, Italian, Thai, not to mention a food and drink festival – in barely 36 hours. Sometimes I wish I didn’t like food so much. It must be so much easier to lose weight when you look on food as fuel and don’t eat unless you’re hungry, but I get fretful if I have to skip a meal, and my nearest and dearest have learnt it’s easier in the long run to feed me at regular intervals or it all gets very nasty. And a biscuit or a crummy sandwich just won’t do. Not only do I insist on eating, I want to eat what I “feel like” eating (not always easily defined), and not just what’s available. It turns out, in fact, that I am not nearly as easy as I think I am.
|Why isn't lunch always like this?|
However, as this was my birthday weekend, I was indulged, and had a very happy time drinking champagne and kir royale, cold beers and hot coffees, and eating self-indulgent meals. But now I’m home, and it’s back to work. No more wandering and breathing in the ozone, no more stopping for little (or not so little) somethings ….the holiday is over.
|I may not be looking quite so happy tomorrow ...|
Tomorrow, I’ll be polishing my first five chapters in the light of comments from wonderful friends who’ve been reading what I’ve done so far, and I’m hoping that a few days away will mean that it all suddenly falls into place …