Tuba or Not Tuba?

Here is the 13th of 25 stained glass window designs on the Palace Pier which AI and I are using as inspiration for some of these BrightonBeach365 daily posts - see Stained Glass Window 1 for background.  The image shows the backs of two uniformed figures, possibly musicians, wearing dark caps with red bands. They are holding brass instruments, one of which appears to be a trombone and another a tuba. The background consists of a clear blue sky with stylised horizontal lines, suggesting a scene of a marching band or parade.

A limerick starter

Two bandsmen set off with a grin,

But one had his slide stuck right in.

He puffed and he blew,

Till his face turned bright blue —

Then sneezed, and played jazz on his chin!

The Case of the Missing Marching Band OR Tuba or Not Tuba? (From a recently-found episode of The Goon Show.)

FX: [Sea gulls. Waves crashing. Brass band warming up tunelessly.]

SEAGOON: Good morning! I am Major Horatio Seagoon, OBE, MFI, RSVP. I have come to Brighton Beach on a matter of national importance.

FX: [BAGPIPE WAIL]

SEAGOON: Shut that manhole cover, Eccles!

ECCLES: Sorry, I thought it was a new type of sunhat.

SEAGOON: It’s got wheels on it and says ‘Brighton Borough Drainage Department’!

ECCLES: Modern millinery, man!

SEAGOON: Silence! Now, according to confidential government memos, intercepted via a fortune cookie in Worthing, an entire marching band has gone missing from the seafront.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE (smooth): Ah yes, the Royal Regiment of Reversible Saxophonists. Last seen marching confidently into the sea during a rendition of Anchors Aweigh.

SEAGOON: You mean they drowned?

GRYTPYPE: Not exactly. They’ve formed a successful underwater jazz trio off the coast of Rottingdean.

SEAGOON: By gad, we must rescue them before they collaborate with French crabs!

FX: [Marching footsteps, slowly getting squelchier]

BLOODNOK (exploding out of nowhere): Ahh! Not them again! I still owe the euphonium player two guineas and a cod.

SEAGOON: Where were you when the band disappeared, Colonel Bloodnok?

BLOODNOK: Nowhere suspicious! Merely camouflaged inside a tuba disguised as a deckchair.

FX: [Deckchair collapses with a metallic clang. Distant tuba fart.]

ECCLES: Ooooh! I think I sat on a B flat!

MINNIE (sing-song): Henry, Henry! There’s a man in the shrubbery playing a clarinet with his nose!

HENRY: That’s not a clarinet, Minnie. That’s my bicycle pump.

MINNIE: Then who’s playing the triangle with our haddock?

FX: [Loud triangle ding. Distant fish slap.]

SEAGOON: Enough! We must assemble the backup band!

FX: [Horrible discordant crash of spoons, combs, and someone playing a mop]

ECCLES: I got my washboard tuned to C-sharp! But it only plays in the rain.

GRYTPYPE: Congratulations. You are now all part of the official Brighton Beach Auxiliary Marching Misband.

SEAGOON: Forward! Left–right–left–ooh!

FX: [Marching. Then a mass splash.]

BLOODNOK: Wait, wait! The tide’s back in! ABANDON INSTRUMENTS!

FX: [Chaotic retreat, a trombone honks like a goose.]

OMNES (singing): ♪ For we are the band that sank with pride, Near Brighton’s bins and paddle tide. . . ♪

VOICEOVER (LEWIS): And so ends The Case of the Missing Marching Band, sponsored by the National Society for the Prevention of Seaside Serenades.

FX: [Final tuba bloop, fading under waves.]

Brighton’s biggest bash

Today’s Pride parade - the city’s biggest and most colourful annual event - set off at 11 am from Hove Lawns, gathering thousands of float‑decorated participants, drag performers and rainbow‑clad marchers who made their way east along the iconic seafront promenade. They proceeded along Kingsway to turn into West Street and North Street before winding past Old Steine and heading up toward London Road and Preston Road on its way to Preston Park, where the music festival begins.

This procession continues a legacy stretching back to the Sussex Gay Liberation Front’s first demonstration in October 1972, followed by Brighton’s inaugural Pride Week in July 1973 - a protest‑cum‑carnival walk along the waterfront ending with a beach gathering. After a hiatus, modern Pride returned in 1991, growing rapidly through the 1990s, and by 1996 the parade consistently began on the seafront with a major festival in Preston Park.

A watershed moment came in 2011 when financial collapse forced the new Brighton Pride CIC to introduce fencing and ticketing for the Preston Park event, while preserving the seafront parade as free. That move stabilised the event and enabled the creation of a Social Impact Fund which now supports local LGBTQ+ groups.

The COVID‑19 pandemic marked another turning point: both 2020 and 2021 festivals were cancelled (the 2020 edition was replaced by streamed content), breaking the Pride tradition for the first time. In 2022 Pride returned in full force - with headliners Christina Aguilera and Paloma Faith - and a revived focus on activism as well as entertainment. 2023 emphasised trans rights and global solidarity; 2024 featured themes of environmental activism and celebration, headlined by Girls Aloud and Mika.

Economically, Brighton Pride is one of the city’s most vital events. It draws up to 500,000 people over the weekend, accounting for an estimated two per cent of the city’s annual tourism in a single day and generating approximately £30 million in visitor spending. Since 2018 the event has delivered consistent economic benefits and raised more than £1 million annually for community grants.

This year 2025 brings further evolution. The theme - ‘Ravishing Rage’ - signals both celebration and resilience, and the event introduces major improvements following widespread community consultation. Notably, the Pride Village Party stage in Kemptown has moved from St James’s Street to Marine Parade, which will remain open for pedestrian and vehicle traffic, while Marine Parade will host a new Street Party featuring outside stages and entertainment.

On the festival front, 2025’s Pride on the Park takes place in Preston Park on 2-3 August, headlined by Mariah Carey in a UK festival exclusive - her long‑awaited performance originally planned for 2020 - and supported by acts including Sugababes, Fatboy Slim, Confidence Man, Loreen, Will Young, Natalie Imbruglia, Ashnikko, Slayyyter and Sister Sledge. Hayu, the NBCUniversal reality streaming service, is this year’s headline sponsor, enabling over 150 LGBTQ+ performers across multiple immersive stages.

In sum, today’s procession along Brighton’s seafront is not simply a visual feast - it’s also part of a five‑decade arc of protest turning into celebration, of financial crisis becoming a sustainable model, of pandemic pause and triumphant resurrection, and of ever‑greater economic and cultural significance to both city and community. For further information see Time Out, Brighton and Hove Council, and Wikipedia.

Patcham Arts on the seafront

Brighton’s Fishing Quarter Gallery has been home this week to a lively and heartfelt group show titled ‘Brighton Beautiful and Beyond’, showcasing a broad range of work by members of Patcham Arts (see also their Facebook page). With its seafront location and unpretentious style, the gallery offers the perfect setting for this grassroots exhibition, which closes on Sunday. Among the standout contributions are seafront paintings by Judy Alexander and Julia Ann Field, two artists whose work captures not just the visual richness of Brighton but also something of its underlying energy and rhythm.

Judy Alexander brings to the exhibition a subtle painterly style that favours shifting colour fields and atmospheric light. Her seafront paintings are at once recognisable and elusive, rendering the coast in gently abstracted forms that evoke memory and mood rather than precise location. Now based in Brighton, Alexander studied fine art in her youth but returned to painting later in life, after a career in education. She is an active member of the Patcham Arts group and has exhibited widely in community venues across East Sussex. Her work often responds to the changing seasons and skies above the shoreline, combining a personal sense of place with a quiet, meditative sensibility.

Julia Ann Field, by contrast, works in bolder gestures and saturated colours. Her paintings of the Brighton seafront are expressive and dynamic, frequently incorporating broad brushwork and unconventional perspectives. In this exhibition, her use of strong reds and blues recalls the carnival palette of beach huts, deckchairs and festival crowds, yet is underpinned by careful composition and technical control. Field trained in design and textile arts before moving into painting, and her background remains visible in the structural layering of her work. She maintains a studio practice in Brighton and has shown in various local exhibitions, including the Artists Open Houses. Her paintings often seek to distil the atmosphere of a moment - a gust of sea wind, a sudden cloudburst, a surge of movement on the promenade.

The most delicious thing

This day in 1916, Cynthia Asquith, wife of the son of Prime Minister H. H. Asquith, was to be found on Brighton Beach, so enjoying the experience of bathing from the pier that she wrote in her diary, ‘It was the most delicious thing I have ever done’. During the war, she and her children were often in Brighton, escaping from London and enjoying the sea air.

Cynthia Charteris was born at Clouds, her mother’s family estate, in 1887, but spent most of her childhood at Stanway House near Cheltenham, where she was educated privately. In 1903, she was sent to Dresden, the then fashionable European city for finishing young ladies, and there met Herbert Asquith. Since her family did not approve of the match, they became engaged secretly in 1907. The couple married in 1910, and found a home in Sussex Place, Regent’s Park in London. Their first child, John, born a year later, proved to be mentally backward and caused them much anxiety and grief. Two other children were born, in 1914 (Michael) and 1919 (Simon).

At the suggestion of a friend, she began to keep a diary during the First World War. This was published by Hutchinson, but not until 1968, as Lady Cynthia Asquith Diaries 1915-1918 - with a foreword by her lifelong friend L. P. Hartley. He wrote: ‘Lady Cynthia was one of the most fascinatingly beautiful women of her time - painted for love by McEvoy, Sargent, and Augustus John - and her lively wit and sensitivity of intelligence made her the treasured confidante of such diverse characters as D. H. Lawrence and Sir James Barrie, but when she died in 1960 she left a new generation to discover yet another of her gifts - as a rarely talented diarist. . .’

Her diaries - available to view online at Internet Archive - provide a startlingly open and self-absorbed account of a life so privileged on the surface but affected deeply and painfully by the pressures of marriage, children, war, and her own intense social needs. During the war, and the period of the published diaries, Cynthia was often in Brighton, where she first took her children to benefit from the sea air, and where she herself loved to bathe - as shown by these entries.

3 December 1916

‘We played the fool on the pier and went to the tourist’s whole hog by being photographed with our heads through burlesques.’

20 July 1916

‘Back in Brighton. After I had written some letters, I went out in search of a bathing cap, thinking I should find a suitable one nearby, but I had to walk for miles and miles in grilling sun, but God forbid that I should complain of any ray of heat vouchsafed to us during this awful summer! It was delicious in the water - really warm and heavenly.’

30 July 1916

‘Glittering, scorching day and the town teeming like an anthill. No signs of war, save for the poor, legless men whom Michael tried to encourage by saying, “Poor wounded soldiers - soon be better.” There is no doubt that Brighton has a charm of its own, almost amounting to glamour. I am beginning to be quite patriotic about this end of the town - Kemp Town as it is called - in opposition to the parvenu Hove, which has less character and is to this rather what the Lido is to Venice.

We joined the children on the beach - painfully hot and glaring. We took them in a boat to try and get cooler. Beb and I bathed from the rather squalid bathing machines - perfect in the water, except for the quantity of foreign bodies.’

31 July 1916

‘Grilling hot again. [. . .] I boldly decided to bathe off the pier as the machines were all full. I shall never bathe from anywhere else again! It was the most delicious thing I have ever done - down a ladder straight into the bottomless green water. Apparently there is no risk of drowning as there is a man in a boat, a raft, a life-buoy, etc. There was a strong current taking one inwards, so I rowed out and swam back. Luxurious dressing rooms, too. It’s a great discovery.

After dinner we sat on the pier, which was most delicious. Lovely lights on the water and in the twilight Brighton looked quite glamorous, and I like the teeming, happy crowds. Being here is strangely like being abroad.’

7 August 1916

‘Reluctantly coming to the conclusion that I shall have to make my home at Brighton, I feel and look so incomparably better there.’

13 August 1916

‘Banged at Basil’s door at seven [Lord Basil Blackwood who died on German trenches the following year]. We had agreed to bathe if awake. We just ran down to the beach with coats over our bathing clothes. A man, perhaps what they call a ‘beach policeman’, stopped me, saying it was only for men that station. I said, “Rubbish!” which, unfortunately, he overheard and was furious, threatening to send for the police and saying I must go to Kemp Town. My bathing dress was very wet from the day before and I didn’t at all like the idea of going either to Kemp Town or the police station in it. However, we found the situation could be overcome by going through the technicality of taking a bathing machine and leaving one’s coat. We had the most heavenly bathe - soft sand and delicious waves, exactly the right size.’

Piper Tri‑Pacer test flight

Found on the beach: Piper Tri‑Pacer. Not the real thing! but a foam glider from a familiar seaside toy set, labelled ‘Jet Fighters’. Though this packaging suggests a focus on military jets, the set often include a mix of fighter planes, vintage propeller aircraft, and general aviation types like the Tri‑Pacer.

Still in a sealed package, I felt this find was an invitation to make and test fly the model. The design is No. 12 in a series of twelve collectible aircraft designs. The Piper Tri‑Pacer itself was a four-seat, high-wing monoplane produced in the United States from 1950 to 1964, known for its tricycle undercarriage and popularity among postwar civilian pilots.

Often manufactured in Asia and sold under various generic brands, the toys are part of a long tradition of inexpensive, throwaway beach items. But their materials - non-biodegradable plastics and foams - have made them a target of environmental concern.

The toy glider, likely made of polystyrene foam with a plastic nose cap, would have been sold for very little from a beachfront kiosk or souvenir shop. These lightweight, slot-together models have been a fixture of seaside holidays since at least the 1970s.

And yet, they are poorly made, too light to cope with even the mildest of sea breezes (despite the evidence of these photographs!), so they duck and dive barely able to stay airborne before crashing into the pebbles. 

Time for one last staged photograph before flying off to a waste bin.

A tremendious rough day

‘This has been a tremendious rough day. I never saw anything half so grand as the sea looked. Indeed, there cannot be a grander sight than a rough sea. It looked like a large hilly plain, moor than like a piece of water. The waves rolled mountains high, and when two of these waves met, sometimes it was with such violence that the water flew into the air out of sight, foaming and frothing like a boiling furnace.’ This was written today in 1937 by William Tayler, a servant and footman on holiday in Brighton with his employer. Despite bad spelling, his observations on Brighton Beach - written down in a diary - are all the more precious an historical record because of his relatively low status.

Born in 1807, Tayler grew up with many siblings on a farm in Grafton, Oxfordshire. He was the first of his family to go into gentlemen’s service, initially for a local squire, and then for a wealthy widow in London, a Mrs Prinsep who lived in Marylebone. Also in the household was the widow’s daughter, and three maidservants - he was the only manservant. Mrs Prinsep died in 1850, and William moved his employment several times thereafter, rising to butler, and eventually being able to afford to rent a whole house in Paddington.

At the beginning of 1837, Tayler decided to keep a diary, to practise his writing.

1 January 1837

‘As I am a wretched bad writer, many of my friends have advised me to practise more, to do which I have made many attempts but allways forgot or got tired so that it was never atended to. I am now about to write a sort of journal, to note down some of the chief things that come under my observation each day. This, I hope, will induce me to make use of my pen every day a little. My account of each subject will be very short - a sort of multo in parvo - as my book is very small and my time not very large.’

And for the rest of the year, almost every day, he wrote short entries. The manuscript was first edited by Dorothy Wise and published - with the title Diary of William Tayler, Footman, 1837 - by the St Marylebone Society in 1962, but has been reprinted several times since then. There are extensive quotes from Tayler’s diary in my book, Brighton in Diaries (History Press, 2011) including the following:

18 July 1837

‘Went on the pier. This is a kind of bridge brojecting into the sea a quarter of a mile. It’s a great curiosity as it’s hung on chains. People can get from that into the boats without going into the water at low water.’ (Picture credit: Royal Pavilion & Museums, Brighton & Hove.)

19 July 1837

‘I get up every morning at half past six and goes out on the beach looking at the boys catching crabs and eels and looking at the people batheing. There are numbers of old wimen have little wooden houses on wheels, and into these houses people goe that want to bathe, and then the house is pushed into the water and when the person has undressed, they get into the water and bathe, and then get into the wooden house again and dress themselves, then the house is drawn on shore again.’

29 July 1837

‘This has been a tremendious rough day. I never saw anything half so grand as the sea looked. Indeed, there cannot be a grander sight than a rough sea. It looked like a large hilly plain, moor than like a piece of water. The waves rolled mountains high, and when two of these waves met, sometimes it was with such violence that the water flew into the air out of sight, foaming and frothing like a boiling furnace, and the wind blows a mist from the waves that regularly pickle the streets, houses and everybody and everything from the salt water. It’s ruination to clothes. My hat is as white as though I had rolled it in the salt tub. The fishermen nor no one elce dare got out with boats such weather. Many of the people were obliged to put up their shutters for fear of haveing their windows broke by the wind blowing the stones and gravel about. I have seen many wimen with their peticoats over their heads. Most of them keep at home, and it would be as well if they was all to do so such a day as this.’

5 August 1837

‘The water very rough. A man rideing his horse in to wash it, the waves came and knocked them man and horse both down in the water. They both scrambled up again and got out, but the man lost his money.’

12 August 1837

‘Went by the water’s side and saw some fishermen bring a very curious fish ashore. They called it a sea monster. It was as big as a donkey and about eight feet long and a mouthfull of teeth like a lion. They erected a tent and showed it for a trifle each person.  They often catch some of these creatures which are of no use other than make a show of, as long as they can keep them fresh.’

Bring back the stocks

Two teenage boys have been arrested after an early morning vandalism spree at Rockwater, a seafront restaurant and lifestyle venue in Hove. The incident occurred at approximately 4am on Friday 25 July, when the pair allegedly threw rocks at the venue’s glass walls, smashing multiple panes and causing substantial damage to outdoor furnishings. No items were reported stolen. Sussex Police confirmed the arrest of two 14-year-old boys from Brighton on suspicion of criminal damage. The local newspaper report sparked a series of angry responses, with one commenter suggesting it was time to ‘bring back the stocks’. (This photograph is from a Brighton and Hove News article written by Frank le Duc.)  

Luke Davis, founder of Rockwater, said the attack was a ‘senseless act of vandalism’ and expressed disappointment over the disruption caused to both staff and the community. The venue, which reopened following the pandemic as a popular hospitality hub, was forced to temporarily close while the damage was assessed. Replacement glass panels were ordered the same day. CCTV footage from the premises has been handed to police.

A series of photographs published in The Argus show the aftermath of the incident, including scattered furniture, broken glass, and general disarray along the terrace area. However, damage extended beyond the venue itself. According to one commenter on the Brighton and Hove News website, the same youths also did damage along the beach. ‘These delightful young men also vandalised the outside of the lifeguard office (west of Rockwater), cut the rope from the life belt (rendering it useless), pulled down the fishing line disposal unit, and tipped over a number of the large, wheeled bins between Rockwater and the Lagoon,’ wrote local resident S. Crow. ‘Thus, in one orgy of violence, risking the lives of humans and wildlife too.’

Another commenter, Billy Short, questioned how the teenagers had been out at such an hour and suggested community-based consequences. ‘Why and how are 14-year-olds out at 4am? This suggests trouble at home,’ he wrote. ‘For sure, these kids need some sort of punishment. I’d suggest their school holidays now should entail daily Hove Beach Park flower bed weeding - including the sunken garden behind Rockwater. They need to learn to respect - and a connection - to our shared local space.’

Among the dozens of online comments, one remark stood out for its bluntness. ‘Bring back the stocks,’ wrote Craig Smith, summing up the mood of exasperation shared by many.

Constable on the beach

Two hundred years ago, one of England’s greatest painters - John Constable - could be found in Brighton, pacing the seafront with sketchbook in hand, observing the restless skies and the shifting sea. His time there would result in several vivid and atmospheric coastal paintings, not least this large painting of the Chain Pier (held by Tate Britain).

Constable was born in 1776 in the Suffolk village of East Bergholt. He trained at the Royal Academy Schools in London, and in 1816 he married Maria Bickknell. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he favoured the English countryside over historical or classical themes, gaining recognition for his sweeping views of the Stour Valley. His focus on expressive skies and changing light helped transform British landscape painting and paved the way for later movements such as Impressionism. 

In 1824 Constable moved his family to Brighton, hoping the sea air would improve Maria’s health - by this time she was suffering from tuberculosis. He divided his time between Charlotte Street in London and the south coast, but the change of scenery marked a shift in his work, as he turned from the wide river scenes of Suffolk to coastal subjects. Though he continued to paint on a grand scale, he was initially sceptical about Brighton’s artistic potential. Writing to his friend John Fisher in 1824, he remarked (see Royal Academy): ‘Brighton is the receptacle of the fashion and offscouring of London. The magnificence of the sea, and its (to use your own beautiful expression) everlasting voice is drowned in the din & lost in the tumult of stage coaches - gigs - “flys” etc - and the beach is only piccadilly . . . By the sea-side . . . in short there is nothing here for the painter but the breakers - & the sky - which have been lovely indeed and always [various].’ 

Despite such doubts,Constable went on to be inspired by Brighton Beach, producing some of his most direct and expressive studies. Chain Pier, Brighton was his only large-scale canvas based on the town, exhibited in 1827. Other works include Brighton Beach (1824, held at the V&A, above right bottom), Brighton Beach (1824-1826, held at the Dunedin Public Art Gallery, above left), and Brighton Beach, with colliers (1824, also at the V&A, above right top)

The Constables remained in Brighton for five years in the hope of aiding Maria’s health, but the move proved unsuccessful. After the birth of their seventh child in January 1828, the family returned to Hampstead, where Maria died later that year at the age of 41.

A sea on fire

Alison MacLeod’s novel Unexploded, long-listed for the 2013 Man Booker Prize, was published twelve years ago today. Set in Brighton during the early stages of World War II, the story revolves around the lives of Geoffrey and Evelyn Beaumont, a married couple navigating the tensions and fears of wartime life as they face the imminent threat of a German invasion. In particular, the narrative contains vivid portrayals of the beach and piers being closed down and shut off from daily life, one character even imagining the sea on fire.

MacLeod is a Canadian‑British novelist, short story writer, and academic, born in Montreal and raised in Quebec and Halifax, Nova Scotia. She has lived in England since 1987, and has become a dual citizen. She was Professor of Contemporary Fiction at the University of Chichester until 2018. Since then she has been writing full time while maintaining visiting academic roles and serving as a Fellow of the Royal Literary Fund. While Unexploded was published on 26 July 2013, and is her best-known work (having been serialised on BBC Radio 4), Bloomsbury has also published a story collection, All the Beloved Ghosts ( 2017), and the novel Tenderness (2021).

In Unexploded, Geoffrey is appointed superintendent of a newly improvised internment camp for enemy aliens, while Evelyn, restless and emotionally isolated, begins volunteering there. She meets Otto Gottlieb, a German‑Jewish painter labeled a ‘degenerate’ and interned under Geoffrey’s supervision. They begin an emotional entanglement that forces Evelyn to question her marriage, motherhood, and moral compass. Geoffrey, meanwhile, spirals into his own moral failures: prejudice, infidelity, and emotional cowardice. 

Unexploded can be previewed at Googlebooks. Here are two extracts. 

Chapter 14, page 103

‘A hundred yards from the Palace Pier, Geoffrey let himself loiter under the canopy of a derelict oyster stand. The day was overcast, the sea the colour of gunmetal, and the beach abandoned, closed for the war by order of the corporation. The signs had been hammered to the railings down the length of the prom.

He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cigarette case. On the Pier, the rides stood quiet. Only a few defiant anglers tried their luck from the end of the deck. In the tide, mines bobbed beneath the surface, out of view, horned and deadly. Every fishing boat had vanished, as if by some ill-fated sleight of hand.

He tried to focus on the survey for the Committee, on the report he would need to compose to confirm that all was in place for Churchill’s visit. He’d been avoiding the task all week.

He cupped the flame of his lighter against the breeze and drew hard on his cigarette. Every beach chalet, including his own, had been strategically manoeuvred and filled with stones. Up and down the shingle, anti-landing-craft spikes lay in heaps, ready to be dug in. Vast coils of barbed wire blotted the views east and west, while concrete tank-traps stood five feet high, colonising the shore. Across the King’s Road, the elegant rooftops of the Grand Hotel and the Métropole had been upstaged by the guns on the new naval station.

Without the boats, without the herring dees and the winkle- pickers, the shingle was a bleak vista darkened by the apparatus of war and the rank of oil drums that stretched endlessly towards Hove. Each drum squatted beneath the prom, ready to be rolled down the beach, past the ghosts of erstwhile paddlers, children and old people, into the sea. Each bore ten thousand gallons of petrol, and, for a moment, looking out, he saw it, the impossible: a sea on fire.

Even as he walked the beach, white sheets and pristine table linen were hanging from every window on the Channel Islands. That was the morning’s news.

Any day. It could be any day.’

Chapter 22, page 169

‘If London looked to the steadiness of Big Ben and the gravitas of St Paul’s for a reminder of dignity in strife, Brighton’s emotional compass had been the ring-a-ding-ding and the music, the electric lights and the ticket-stub happiness of the Palace and West piers. When the Explosions Unit had arrived that evening back in June, the town prepared to lose its bearings. Even to the casual observer, each pier looked like nothing less than a welcoming dock, an unloading zone for any invading ship, and while both were spared outright destruction, section after strategy section - of decking, piles and girders - was blasted into the sea.

That year, Alf Dunn, Tubby’s middle brother, turned fourteen and craved something more than digs in bombed-out houses. As the starlings gathered and the sun slid from the sky, he and a dozen others also descended on the seafront.

It was no casual operation. They had wire-clippers for the barbed-wire fencing, rope from a builder’s yard, switchblades for cutting it, and mud for camouflage. The tide was rising, but the evening itself was calm, and there was just time to cast a rope bridge from gap to gap, using the stumps of the blasted piles and relying on Tommy Leach’s skill with knots.

The trick to a successful traverse, Ali explained, was to lie on top of the rope, bend a knee, hook the foot of that same leg over the rope, and keep the other leg straight for balance. ‘See?’ he said. ‘Your pins don’t move. It’s your arms and hands that get you from end to end. If you slip under the rope, don’t panic. Hook a leg and the opposite arm over, and push down with the other hand to right yourself.

Tubby and Philip had been allowed to bring up the rear, if only to bear witness and to carry the bucket of camouflage mud. They watched Alf army-crawl his way to the first, second and third landings, wave from the deck, and glide back.’

New board criticised

Brighton & Hove City Council has officially revealed the twelve members of its newly established Seafront Development Board, signalling a renewed commitment to revitalising the city’s iconic shoreline - but the move has drawn criticism from the Green Party, who accuse Labour of sidelining public accountability and undermining the role of elected councillors.

The board, which brings together a distinguished group of local leaders and professionals, is tasked with guiding investment and long-term strategy across the city’s seafront, with early focus on the redevelopment of Black Rock and the restoration of Madeira Terrace. It will also play a role in delivering the broader ambitions of the City Plan and seafront regeneration programme, which goes beyond Brighton beach in both directions, to Shoreham Harbour and Saltdean.

Following an open recruitment process that attracted over 90 applicants, the final line-up was selected by the Labour administration. Lord Steve Bassam of Brighton, former leader of Brighton Borough Council and a member of the House of Lords’ inquiry into seaside towns, has been named chair (see A bit of pizzazz.) He is now joined by Vice Chair Councillor Jacob Taylor, Deputy Leader of the council and Cabinet Member for Finance and City Regeneration.

Among the board’s private sector members are Georgia Collard-Watson, Principal Associate Architect at Grimshaw Architects; Carolyn Jikiemi-Roberts, Director at Hot Yoga South Brighton; Alastair Hignell CBE, a former England rugby international and MS advocate; Alma Howell, Historic England’s inspector of historic buildings; and Simon Lambor, Director of Matsim Group.

Also appointed are Juliet Sargeant, an award-winning garden designer known for her Chelsea Flower Show work; Rob Sloper, Senior Development Director at Landsec U+I; and Pete Tyler, a retired travel executive with longstanding ties to the tourism sector. Representing the council’s political leadership, Councillor Julie Cattell, Lead for Major Projects, and Councillor Birgit Miller, Cabinet Member for Culture, Heritage and Tourism, complete the board’s line-up. (Pics, from top to bottom: Bassam, Miller, Sargeant, and Howell.)

However, the Greens have voiced concerns about the board’s structure and remit. According to the Brighton and Hove News, the Greens said ‘the ruling party had packed the board with Labour politicians, questioned the process for choosing the chair and asking whether anyone else was considered for the role’.

Councillor Kerry Pickett, the Greens’ spokesperson for regeneration was quoted as saying: ‘There’s a risk that this appointed board could push through development decisions behind closed doors - decisions that will shape our city for generations.’ She added, according to Brighton and Hove News, that the Greens ‘strongly support the regeneration of the seafront but believe it must be guided by transparency, consultation, and democratic oversight.’ However, I can find no official source for these quotes and opinions (nothing on the Greens website for example.)

The council has said the board will meet quarterly, with a role focused on ‘guidance, challenge and championing’ rather than decision-making. According to the council’s own statement, the board will help ‘shape future development of the seafront’ by advising officers and councillors, while all formal planning decisions will remain within the council’s democratic structures.

On the Beach hit by weather

Thousands of music-lovers were evacuated from Brighton seafront yesterday evening after a Met Office yellow warning for thunderstorms prompted a swift and precautionary response from organisers of Brighton’s On The Beach festival. The warning, which forecast heavy rain and potential flooding, led to what some described as a ‘Code Red’-style evacuation. Crowds were seen leaving the site in orderly fashion just after 6pm as thunderclouds gathered and conditions deteriorated.

Drone footage - from Sussex Express - captured the mass movement away from the beach, with stewards guiding people safely from the festival grounds. The yellow warning had been issued earlier in the day, but organisers initially proceeded with caution. At 5.30pm, a statement on the festival’s Instagram page confirmed that the show would go on - ‘The weather forecast from the Met Office is now clear skies for the rest of the evening, but prepare for change.’

However, the skies did not stay clear. As heavy rain swept in and lightning was reported nearby, the decision was made to evacuate the site. Aerial photographs published by the Sussex Express showed thousands leaving the seafront just as the storm arrived. Emergency services assisted the evacuation, with no reported injuries or arrests.

By around 7.30pm, conditions improved and the yellow warning was lifted. Festival organisers reopened the site and revised the schedule, allowing the evening’s acts to proceed under clearer skies. The Argus reported that fans praised the organisers for ‘putting safety first without cancelling the whole evening’.

While no official ‘Code Red’ declaration was made, the phrase circulated widely among attendees as a way to describe the highest level of threat response used in emergency planning. The sudden storm interrupted the rhythm of the evening, but the quick return of music and clear skies by nightfall brought the crowd back together.

Two Grey Herrings

Here is the 12th of 25 stained glass window designs on the Palace Pier which AI and I are using as inspiration for some of these BrightonBeach365 daily posts - see Stained Glass Window 1 for background. This one shows a stylised coastal landscape. In the foreground, two fish lie on a pebbly or rocky shore, their bodies rendered in shades of green and outlined in black, with prominent red eyes. Behind them, a golden-yellow beach meets a bright blue sea composed of layered bands of darker and lighter blues. In the distance, a white sailboat with a red sail floats on the water under a sky filled with stylised white clouds and pale blue light. 

A limerick starter

Two fish on the shingle lay low,

With clouds and a sailboat in tow.

Said one with a grin,

‘We’re caught in a spin -

Glass trapped us, but what a great show!’

Two Grey Herrings (with apologies to Agatha Christie)

It was just past eight on a damp August morning when Miss Ada Fossett, retired milliner and part-time crossword champion, made her habitual stroll along Brighton Beach. The tide was out, the air thick with salt and gossip, and the seafront unusually quiet - save for a small cluster near the Banjo Groyne.

Laid side by side on the shingle were two fish. Not just any fish - herrings, unmistakably grey, and arranged with such unsettling symmetry that Ada stopped mid-step. One pointed east, the other west, as though in disagreement over where the truth lay. Between them, embedded in the pebbles, was a torn page from The Times crossword, Tuesday’s edition - curiously, only one clue had been filled in: 8 Down: Red herring (6,7).

Inspector Blodgett of the Brighton constabulary was summoned. Gruff, sceptical, and already two sugars into his second tea, he at first dismissed the fish as the work of pranksters. But Ada, glancing sideways at the crossword, murmured, ‘Not red. Grey. Someone’s being precise.’

The investigation led them through a web of local characters: a disgraced professor of ichthyology turned beach artist, a jilted puppeteer whose seaside show had recently closed, and a fortune-teller with a vendetta against crossword compilers. All had motives - revenge, reputation, or riddles.

The breakthrough came not from forensics, but from fish. A witness recalled seeing a man in a pinstripe suit carefully placing the herrings at dawn. Not just any man - Mr Edwin Trellis, publisher of The Times puzzle section, known for his weekly beach swims and unorthodox marketing tactics.

Confronted, Trellis confessed. It was a publicity stunt for a new cryptic clue series, inspired by Christie’s own fondness for misleading leads. But the twist - and there always is one - came when Ada, flipping the paper over, found a scribbled name and date. That very morning. Trellis hadn’t written it.

The real mystery had been hijacked. Beneath the herrings, buried shallowly in the pebbles, police unearthed a small locket containing a photograph - and a name long believed lost in the postwar chaos. The fish were not just herrings. They were a sign. And someone, somewhere on the Brighton seafront, was using sleight of species to point towards a cold case, about to be warmed by the sun.

‘Grey herrings,’ Ada murmured, eyes narrowing. ‘Not a distraction. A direction.’

A roker’s tail

Found on the beach: all that’s left of a thornback ray (Raja clavata) - its distinctive tail.

The thornback ray, or ‘roker’ as it is often called in the UK, is a familiar and charismatic resident of British coastal waters, including the shores around Brighton. Its name comes from the distinctive thorn-like spines that stud its back and tail - these are actually modified skin teeth, giving the ray a rough, almost armored appearance. With its broad, diamond-shaped body and short snout, the thornback ray glides over sandy and muddy seabeds, its mottled brown-grey upper surface dappled with yellowish patches and dark spots, blending perfectly with the sea floor.

Unlike most true rays, thornback rays are technically skates, and they lay eggs rather than giving birth to live young. Each spring and summer, females deposit tough, rectangular egg cases - known to beachcombers as ‘mermaid’s purses’ - in sheltered areas on the seabed (see also A catshark that is a dogfish.) Inside each case, a single embryo develops, feeding on a yolk sac for four to five months before hatching as a miniature ray, already equipped with the beginnings of its signature thorns. Juveniles spend their early months in shallow nursery grounds, gradually venturing into deeper waters as they grow. Males reach maturity at around seven years old, females at about nine, and some individuals may live for over two decades.

Thornback rays are opportunistic predators, feeding on a variety of crustaceans and small fish. Juveniles prefer shrimps and small crabs, while adults tackle larger crustaceans and fish, using their powerful jaws to crush shells. The thornback’s rough skin and formidable thorns provide some defense against predators, and these features become more pronounced with age, especially in females, who develop a line of large thorns along their backs.

There is often confusion between skates and rays, but the differences are subtle yet significant. Skates like the thornback lay eggs, while most true rays bear live young. Skates have stockier tails without venomous spines and tend to have more pronounced dorsal fins, whereas rays often have slender, whip-like tails and, in some species, venomous stings. In the UK, the term ‘ray’ is often used for both, adding to the muddle, especially at fishmongers where ‘skate wings’ are a common offering.

Around Brighton, the thornback ray is a familiar catch for anglers and is sometimes landed by commercial fisheries. Conservation groups in Sussex have launched campaigns to monitor ray populations and promote sustainable fishing practices, though the thornback ray is currently listed as Least Concern on the IUCN Red List.

Other rays share these waters, including the undulate ray with its wavy markings, the blonde ray, and the once-abundant but now critically endangered common skate. The fate of these species is intertwined with that of the thornback, as they are often caught together in mixed fisheries. The challenge is compounded by the difficulty in identifying species once they are skinned and sold as generic ‘skate’ wings. See Wikipedia for more on the roker!

A truck in thought

This photo shows a Davis Trackhire truck, equipped with a hydraulic crane, unloading or positioning a large stack of heavy-duty panels - temporary ground protection or trackway, designed to create stable surfaces for vehicles and crowds on uneven or soft ground. In the background, you can see the calm turquoise sea with the silhouettes of the Rampion wind farm turbines on the horizon, under a clear blue sky. What is the truck thinking?

‘How curious it is, to pause amid the salt-kissed air, steel sinews humming with potential, beneath the ever-watchful sun. They call me Davis - a name painted boldly upon my flanks, though what is a name to a mind busy with purpose and observation? Here, perched between shingle and surf, I contemplate more than just my cargo.

I have journeyed on many roads: winding motorways by dawn, city grids pulsing with restless ambition, and now the still calm of the coast. Each mile of my travel has etched stories into my chassis - patience when the world is slow, resilience when the elements test me, satisfaction upon completing my duty.

Today I am burdened, yet unbowed; my payload stacked with the meticulous care of intent and design. My mechanical arm curves with the choreography of industry, a testament to human ingenuity and my own quiet resolve. I find purpose in service, pride in precision. My mission is as clear as the horizon: to deliver, to build, to form the bedrock upon which progress is staged.

Yet I am not without wonder. As I gaze seaward, turbines spin far off, guardians of a future knit with wind and light. I marvel at what I carry, but also at what carries me - the systems and hands, decisions and designs, that coalesce in a moment like this.

I am more than machinery, more than fuel and metal. I am a witness to endeavour, a bearer of burdens, a contemplative spirit at the margin of earth and water. My wheels may rest, but my mind, galvanised by quiet reflection, wanders still.

So let it be written: I am truck, yet thinker; labourer, yet philosopher. On this stony edge, I am at once at home and ever in motion, ever turning ideas as surely as I turn my wheels.’

Bloc Party’s Silent Alarm

Today, Bloc Party headline On the Beach, the annual summer music festival that transforms Brighton’s seafront into a large-scale open-air concert venue. Held each July, the event draws thousands of fans from across the UK to the city’s iconic shingle beach. With the Rampion wind farm on the horizon and stages set just metres from the tide, the festival once again brings live music to one of the most distinctive coastal settings in the country.

On the Beach began in 2021, building on Brighton’s long love affair with large-scale seaside music. It channels the same spirit that drew quarter of a million people to Fatboy Slim’s chaotic beach show back in 2002 - a landmark event that still hangs heavy over Brighton’s pop-culture memory. Unlike that free-for-all, the modern festival is carefully ticketed and spread over several weekends each July, bringing big-name DJs, rock bands and indie outfits to stages erected almost within reach of the tide. Past years have seen Royal Blood, Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, The Kooks and The Libertines claim the beach. This summer’s run continues the tradition, with today’s billing dedicated to a more guitar-driven, indie flavour.

At the heart of it all are Bloc Party, who tonight perform their seminal debut album Silent Alarm in full, marking twenty years since it first tore through the UK charts. Released in 2005, Silent Alarm fused jagged post-punk guitar lines, urgent dance rhythms and raw, nervy vocals into a sound that defined an era of British indie. Songs like Banquet and Helicopter became anthems in sticky clubs and muddy fields alike. Over the two decades since, Bloc Party have shape-shifted through electronic experiments, introspective rock and propulsive returns to form, all without losing their taste for sharp edges and restless energy.

Frontman Kele Okereke has cited everyone from The Smiths to electronic pioneers like A Guy Called Gerald as influences. Guitarist Russell Lissack, meanwhile, has a side passion for rescuing stray cats and once briefly joined Ash on tour. Joining the two founders of the band on stage will be Louise Bartle on drums and percussion - officially part of the band since 2015 - and Harry Deacon, who took over bass duties in 2023.

Sharing the stage with Bloc Party today are Everything Everything, the Manchester art-rock outfit celebrated for twisting pop into clever, unexpected shapes, and Mystery Jets, long-time darlings of the indie circuit whose bright, slightly psychedelic songs like Two Doors Down still ring with youthful rush. They’re joined by Leeds newcomers English Teacher (see English Teacher on the beach, who played this very location a couple of months ago) and Liz Lawrence, the genre-hopping singer-songwriter whose crystalline vocals have become a Brighton favourite. Rounding out the bill are FEET, bringing fresh energy off the back of their new album, and Martial Arts, a rising local band adding yet more sun-soaked guitar sparkle to the beach.

Trans Pride march

Brighton is hosting Trans Pride today, with thousands of people - not least Queen Victoria! - gathering to celebrate and advocate for trans, non-binary and intersex rights. The day began with a rally in Victoria Gardens at 11am, followed by a march through the city and along the seafront. An accessible route was provided from the Old Ship Hotel, and free taxis have been arranged to help participants move between key locations.

The march is a central part of the annual event, which began in 2013 and has grown to become the largest of its kind in Europe. Brighton & Hove City Council is flying the trans flag above its buildings in support of the event, and members of the council’s LGBTQ+ Workers Forum are present with a stall in New Steine Gardens. The city is expecting between 30,000 and 45,000 people to attend throughout the day.

After the march, the focus shifts to the park and community spaces - see Trans Pride and Scenemag. In New Steine Gardens, there are speeches, stalls, and performances on the main stage, while Dorset Gardens is hosting acoustic music and a relaxed picnic area. Brighton Dome and Corn Exchange are running a makers’ market featuring work by trans artists and vendors. The celebrations will continue into the evening with an after-party at North Laine Brewhouse from around 7pm.

Trans Pride Brighton is both a protest and a celebration. It provides a platform for visibility and solidarity at a time when trans rights remain a subject of national debate. The event continues to grow in size and significance, with its route along the seafront making it one of the city’s most visible annual demonstrations.

French attack repulsed!

Exactly 480 years ago today, and amid heightened hostilities between England and France, a French fleet launched an attempted landing at Brighton. The incident is vividly described in Holinshed’s Chronicles, later quoted by the Victorian historian John Ackerson Erredge. Alongside this narrative survives a remarkable contemporary map, now held in the British Library, which graphically depicts the French fleet offshore, the disembarkation of troops, and the town in flames.

In 1545, during the reign of Henry VIII, England was in conflict with France. After Henry’s forces had taken Boulogne and devastated regions of France, King Francis I sent Admiral D’Annebault with a formidable fleet to retaliate by striking at the English south coast. The event, described in Holinshed’s Chronicles (a three-volume British history published in the late 16th century), as quoted in History of Brighthelmston by Erredge (page 61), specifically mentions Brighton (then styled ‘Bright Hampstead’ or ‘Brighthampston’):

‘In 37[th year of the reign of] Hen. 8th, 1545, July the 18th, the admiral of Franco, Mons. Donebatte [a corruption of the name D’Annebault), hoisted up sails, and with his whole navy (which consisted of 200 ships and 26 gallies,) came forth into the seas, and arrived on the coast of Sussex, before Bright Hampstead, and set certain of his soldiers on land to burn and spoil the country: but the beacons were fired and the inhabitants thereabouts came down so thick, that the Frenchmen were driven to their ships with loss of diverse of their numbers, so that they did little hurt there.’

The attempted landing at Brighton was thus met with swift resistance from the local populace, rallied by beacon fires. Their response was so determined that the French could do ‘little hurt there’ and were quickly forced back to their ships, having suffered losses. Again, it is said that ‘the inhabitants thereabouts came down so thick’ that the French attack was foiled before much damage could be done.

The text also refers to a remarkable ‘Picture Map’ from the time, providing further detail about the attack: ‘The number of ships attacking the town is twenty-two; and the largest, probably the Admiral’s, lying nearest the shore, has four masts. . . Eight of the latter [galleys] are on shore, and the armed men from them have disembarked on the beach, the place where they landed being inscribed, - “here landed the galleys”.’

This map apparently depicts the full force of the attempted raid. Details include: ‘On shore the houses under the cliffe are on fire; from the upper town also flames are issuing from almost every house.’ The town at that time had ‘five rows of houses running from north to south’ with a town field in the centre and a prominent road east, ‘about the spot now occupied by the Old Steine,’ labeled as ‘the valcy comyng from Lewes town to Brighthampston.’

Defensive preparations and geography are highlighted: ‘On this road and on the hill adjacent bodies of armed men are marching towards the town.’ Key townspeople landmarks are noted, such as the ‘town fyre cag’ (likely for signalling), the church encircled by praying or armed townsfolk, and two ‘wynde mylles’ to the north, near ‘the bekon of the towne’.

The response of the local gentry and yeomen is emphasised both in the narrative and in map notes suggesting rapid mustering in defense: ‘As this road approaches the beach, it is inscribed, - “Upon this west pt may lond cm psones (100,000 persons) unletted by any pvision there.” ’

The attempted raid on Brighton thus achieved very little for the French: they were repulsed with ‘diverse of their numbers’ lost, while the locals ‘quickly distressed them’. Their attack was notable for the rapid civilian and militia resistance that foiled their intent to burn or pillage the town. The French then moved on to other nearby targets, but Brighton’s quick and effective defence seems to stand out in this record as a testament to the vigilance and bravery of its 16th-century residents.

This vivid account is matched by the surviving picture map, produced at the same time - July 1545 - and now held in the British Library under the reference Cotton Augustus I. i. 18. This large-scale, hand-coloured map depicts the French fleet offshore, the disembarkation of troops, burning houses, beacon fires, and armed townspeople rallying in defence. It is thought the map was likely commissioned as part of Henry VIII’s broader programme of coastal surveillance and fortification.

Floods in Pool Valley

One hundred and seventy years ago today, on 17 July 1850, Brighton suffered a violent storm - with thunder and lightening - that soon flooded parts of the town, notably Pool Valley, just across the road from the beach and pier. This fabulous image - courtesy of the Royal Pavilion & Museums, Brighton & Hove - was first published by F. B. Mason (Repository of Arts, 120 King’s Road, Brighton) in August 1850. A detailed report of the weather and damage appeared the following day in the Brighton Gazette (available online with subscription) as follows:

‘Storm of Last Evening

A storm of lightning, thunder, and rain of almost unexampled violence broke over Brighton last evening. During the whole of Monday, Tuesday, and yesterday, the temperature had been very high; on Monday the thermometer in the shade reached nearly to 80. Indications of a coming tempest were discernible throughout the whole of yesterday afternoon, and about a quarter to seven it burst, after a few preparatory grumbles, apparently over the centre of the town. The lightning and thunder were terrific; the flashes of blinding brilliancy were followed the next instant by the crash, and the buildings were shaken to their foundations. The rain came down, not in poetic but in literal torrents, and the widest streets were turned into streams over their whole width. Even the most apparently secure roofs were not proof against the attacks of the water; the rain came through in numerous houses, flooding the apartments. In our own office, operations were suspended, and during the height of the storm the probability of the publication of the present sheet assumed a very dubious aspect. The violence of the storm lasted about an hour.

After the above general observations had been written, we learned the following details. Pool Valley, as is known to all the residents of Brighton and to most of its visitors far and near, is situated in the lowest part of Brighton. It is at the back of the Royal York Hotel; and years ago, previous to the construction of the Grand Junction Road, which now forms a barrier between it and the sea, it was constantly overflowed at high tides. Within a few minutes of the commencement of the storm, the water poured from three different sources - namely, from East Street, the Steyne, and the Marine Parade - the streams bringing with them the overflowings of North Street, the Marine Parade, St. James’s Street, and Edward Street, into the Valley; and the result was that Creak’s baths, Strong’s painter’s shop, an adjoining carpenter’s shop, two small houses, and the Wellington Inn were flooded.

The contents of the cellars and shops were immediately floated into the street; and as the storm continued and the accumulated water poured down, two of the three shops at the back of the York Hotel and forming a portion of the building were also inundated. The shops are occupied by Mr Pegg, wine merchant, and his brother, a fishmonger. The third shop, occupied by Mr Donald, farrier, escaped a similar visitation from the fact of its being approached by a flight of steps. In rushing from the Steyne, one of the streams entered and deluged in succession the area of Mr Cordy Burrows, surgeon, the shops of Mrs Streeter, baker, Mr Smith, stationer, and Madame Dorney, milliner, and approached within an inch of the shop doors of Mr Bruce, engraver, and Mr Martin, ornamental hairworker.

When the water first rushed into the Valley an attempt was made to give it exit by keeping clear the sink gratings by means of brooms; but this attempt was immediately and necessarily abandoned. Boats were then brought to the spot, first one, then a second, and then a third, for the purpose of securing the floating property; and as the depth of the water increased and the inmates of the houses were driven to the upper stories to aid their escape, the women and children uttered piercing cries from the windows for assistance. Fortunately, however, the water did not rise to such a height as to render the latter course expedient.’

The text on the image above reads: ‘On Wednesday morning, July 17th 1850, Brighton and immediate neighbourhood was visited with a remarkable deluge of rain, which, descending in continuous torrents, for several hours, speedily converted the low lying ground of Pool Valley, and other parts of the Town, into what appeared, as represented in the above view, an extensive lake.’ Also along the bottom margin are: ‘Published by F.B. Mason, Repository of Arts, 120 King’s Road, Brighton, Augt 19th 1850.’

A poorer reproduction of the image and a brief summary of the weather events, can be found on page 67 of Eileen Hollingdale’s Old Brighton (George Nobbs Publishing, 1979).

A long RNLI weekend

RNLI volunteers have been busy along Brighton Beach during the last few days. Over the weekend, the crews launched five times in 48 hours, a press release details, dealing with everything from people blown offshore on inflatables to paddleboarders venturing far out to sea.

The first task came at 7.30pm last Friday when the crew launched to reports of a person in the water clinging to an orange float near the West Pier. The lifeboat quickly located a man who was fishing from his stand-up paddleboard. On the return journey, at around dusk, the crew spotted two paddleboarders approximately 1.25 nautical miles offshore. The pair were attempting to reach the wind farm in failing light. They had no communication devices, no lifejackets, no food or water, and were dressed only in T-shirts and shorts. With conditions deteriorating and darkness falling, the crew persuaded them to come aboard and towed their boards back to the beach.

A third task that evening involved a dinghy with paddlers waving for attention. While this turned out to be a case of poor paddling technique rather than distress, it demonstrated the importance of raising the alarm early. Saturday lunchtime, the crew launched to search for a 27-year-old man who had been missing for over 90 minutes after swimming east of Brighton Palace Pier. His belongings were found unattended on the beach by his friend, prompting a swift and coordinated response. Brighton RNLI carried out shoreline and offshore searches, while RNLI Lifeguards and Coastguard teams scoured the beach, and a rescue helicopter conducted an aerial search. The swimmer was eventually located and assisted onshore by the lifeguards and Coastguard.

Just hours later, that evening, Brighton RNLI was called out again. Two people had earlier been brought ashore without lifejackets after using a jet ski, but later swam back out to retrieve the craft, which had been tied to a buoy. Concerned that they might attempt another unsafe recovery, the crew returned the two individuals and their jet ski to Brighton Marina. The incident served as a reminder of how even seemingly short trips on the water can escalate without proper equipment or planning.

Finally, on Monday, at 1.24am, Brighton RNLI launched following a police request after bloodied clothing was discovered near the shore close to the i360. The crew carried out a thorough search of the area but were stood down after nothing was found. Back at the station, returning crew were met by five of the newest volunteer crew. They turned out in the early hours to help recover and clean the boat and to start learning how to respond to calls in the middle of the night safely.

These weekend call-outs were not unusual for the Brighton RNLI team. In 2024, Brighton RNLI responded to 61 incidents and were credited with saving two lives. Across Sussex, RNLI lifeboats carried out 475 launches last year, reflecting how busy the coastline can be.

Lifeboat operations manager Charlie Dannreuther said: ‘These launches highlight just how varied, and how demanding, a weekend on the coast can be. They also reinforced some vital safety messages. Whether you’re paddleboarding, using a jet ski, or going for a swim, being prepared is essential. Always wear a lifejacket when on the water. Take a means of calling for help, like a mobile phone in a waterproof pouch or a VHF radio. Check the weather forecast and tide times. Don’t head out in fading light. And always tell someone your plan.’

The Royal Albion on fire

It’s two years ago today that fire did for the Royal Albion Hotel on Brighton’s seafront, gutting much of the historic building and leaving a charred shell where once royalty and Edwardian high society had gathered.

The Royal Albion was first opened in 1826 as one of Brighton’s earliest purpose-built seaside hotels (see Wikipedia). Its original architect was Amon Henry Wilds, with later additions expanding its elegant frontage along the seafront. In the early 20th century it was famously managed by Harry Preston - a larger-than-life figure who transformed it into a glittering social hub, hosting the likes of Edward VII, who enjoyed the discreet pleasures of Brighton society. (See also Brighton beach as runway!) Over the decades, the hotel weathered wartime bombing and changing fashions, remaining a familiar if faded landmark opposite the Palace Pier.

On the evening of 15 July 2023, flames were seen leaping from the fourth floor of the building (owned by Britannia Hotels). Emergency services quickly responded, with a hundred guests and staff evacuated and roads cordoned off around the Old Steine. Despite the swift arrival of more than a dozen fire appliances, the blaze raged through the roof and upper floors. Firefighters worked through the night to contain the flames, even as part of the building collapsed, sending up plumes of smoke visible across the city.

In October 2023, following an investigation by East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service, it was concluded the fire had most likely been caused by a discarded cigarette (see Brighton and Hove News). This came despite the hotel having passed a thorough fire safety audit just the previous September, which praised its ‘preventative and protective measures’, ‘effective emergency plan and policy’, and commended staff for their ‘professional and pro-active attitude towards their fire safety responsibilities.’ A later report into the blaze found its rapid spread was fuelled by hidden voids, traditional lath and plaster walls, dry and ageing timber window frames, and the driving wind off the Channel.

By February 2025, the situation had deteriorated so far that when an engineer warned the fragile remains of the building and its scaffolding were ‘at risk of catastrophic failure,’ the Council closed part of the A259. 

According to a BBC report from May 2025, Brighton & Hove City Council is actively pursuing further action to recover £1.2 million still owed by Britannia Hotels for emergency safety and demolition work at the Royal Albion Hotel following the July 2023 fire. The council initially spent £1.7 million to secure the site after the fire, but Britannia Hotels has so far only repaid £500,000. The council is now considering ‘alternative avenues for recovery’ to expedite repayment of the outstanding debt. Otherwise, discussions between the council and Britannia Hotels about the site's future are ongoing but remain at an early stage.