Now you see them . . .

Brighton Beach is justly famed for its starling murmurations during the winter months. Usually as dusk approaches and before roosting for the night, many thousands of these birds swarm and swoop through the sky - between and near both piers - dancing together in what look like carefully-choreographed ensembles, thus creating the most mesmerising patterns. Crowds of humans gather on the beach and the pier, cameras in hand, to capture the sight. And the photographs they take can be made yet more photogenic (startling even!) with either of the piers in the background and/or the setting sun.

NOW YOU SEE THEM . . .

These two photographs were taken a few minutes apart last evening(the sun drops fairly quickly below the horizon line at this time of year). I was not able to capture the beautiful shapes made by the murmurations - though wonderful videos and gorgeous stills of them can be found elsewhere, such as on Facebook and Instagram. However, the above photo gives a sense, maybe, of how each bird twists and turns through the sky, painting the air with movement - pure, wild, and apparently weightless - to form a scene both serene and dramatic, a fleeting moment of natural beauty.

NOW YOU DON'T . . .

According to The Woodland Trust, thousands of starlings all swirling and swooping together means one thing: safety. The sheer volume of birds confuses predators like peregrine falcons and makes it much harder for them to pick off individual birds. The characteristic shapes of a murmuration come from the rapid changes in direction. Starlings have extremely fast reactions, so when one bird changes speed or direction, the birds around it do too. This also allows the birds to move within the murmuration itself, meaning that no one bird spends too much time at the edge of the group, where they’re vulnerable to predation. When roosting, apparently, they also like to snuggle up together for a warmer night.

Apart from Brighton, other famous murmuration sites include: Shapwick Heath, Somerset Levels (where six million birds were recorded in 1999); Aberystwyth Pier, Ceredigion; Leighton Moss, Lancashire; Fen Drayton, Cambridgeshire; Minsmere, Suffolk; Newport Wetlands, South Wales.

A bit of pizzazz

‘We want to bring a bit of pizzazz to the seafront. It is the city’s shopfront and councillors want it to fully express the ambition they have for an inclusive and fun place for all.’ This is the Rt Hon Lord Bassam of Brighton - once a Brighton squatter - explaining why he is seeking volunteers to join an independent Seafront Development Board to help shape a vision and encourage investment in ‘our treasured seafront’. Bassam, a previous leader of the council and a member of the House of Lords, was appointed chair of the new board just four weeks ago.

The council says it is looking for board members with a range of skills and experience including: expertise in business, tourism or culture; an interest in the seafront (for example owning a key asset); expertise in urban design or another relevant specialism; and/or being able to represent a particular interest or group. Volunteers will be expected to commit for one year at least, and attend four meetings as well as site visits and openings. 

Lord Bassam is well placed to bring a high level of expertise to his new role. Although never having been elected an MP, he was created a life peer and then served in many different government roles, including Chief Whip in Gordon Brown’s government (from 2008), and Opposition Chief Whip (from 2010). He resigned in 2018 after an expenses scandal (in which he was ultimately judged to have been negligent rather than dishonest). Soon after, he was appointed chair of a parliamentary select committee on the Regeneration of Seaside Towns. After an initial report in 2019, and a government response, there was a follow-up review and a government policy paper.

Bassam has an interesting background. He grew up on a council estate in Great Bentley, Essex, and studied at the University of Sussex (and the University of Kent, earning a Master’s degree in social work). He was a far-left anarchist and squatter in Brighton, co-founding the Brighton and Hove Squatters Union which advocated rights to occupy unused properties. In January 1976, according to Wikipedia, Bassam led opposition to the eviction of a family from a house on West Hill Road, stating, ‘We will gladly vacate the premises if we are assured that the family at the top of the housing list is given the house to live in.’

See Tony Greenstein’s blog for a flashback to Bassam’s early political days in Brighton (inc. the photos here)!

HOVE LAGOON in murals

At the far western end of Brighton’s beach, by Hove Lagoon and just behind the sea wall and beach huts, can be found a very lively community-hearted area of leisure facilities. There are water activities in the lagoon itself, but also a vibrant cafe, a new skateboard park, and cool kids’ playgrounds. The area is particularly rich in mural art, some dating back at least a quarter of a century. In particular, the letters of HOVE LAGOON have been muralled onto the north side of the wall. My photos here show two of the letters, one taken in October 2016, and one taken last weekend.

In 2000, Brighton artist Steve Riske collaborated with local youngsters to create a 400ft mural along the raised sea wall. This initiative was part of the Splash and Paddle Appeal, a community-driven effort to revitalise the lagoon area. Notably, Hove-based actor Nick Berry was the largest single contributor to the appeal, donating £7,000 to support the project.

In July 2016, renowned street artist Aroe, with the support of local councillor Robert Nemeth, led a project to paint a mural on the wall of Hove Lagoon, starting at the skate park end. This collaboration aimed to enhance the visual appeal of the lagoon and to engage the community in the process. It included a stretch of mural spelling out the (giant) letters of HOVE LAGOON. I photographed all the letters that year (2016) - see my Graffiti Brighton blog.

The letters were redesigned and repainted, again with Aroe as the lead artist, in 2024. I have here included photos of two of the recently-painted letters alongside their original design from 2016. The new “V” mural, featuring a woman’s profile adorned with flowers, was created by @kiki_graf.inc.; and the recent Poseidon “O” mural was created by local artist Mick Mowgli. Here’s a full list of the 2024 artists responsible for each letter. 

H: SNUB23

O: Molar

V: @kiki_graf.inc

E: Drren101

L: Killerpete

A: I Am Sprite

G: Guy Favela

O: Mick Mowgli

O: Travels in Tequila

N: Aroe

Many thanks to Friends of Hove Lagoon for their help in confirming this information. Incidentally, FoHL are holding a fund-raising auction of ‘amazing artworks’ soon, on 15 March.

Brighton Beach Cowboy

The tide had pulled back, leaving a scatter of pebbles and seaweed tangled like a woman’s uncombed hair. Jeb Coulter stood at the water’s edge, boot heels digging into the wet sand, staring down at the thing half-buried beneath the wrack. It was a revolver, or at least the ghost of one, its shape worn smooth by salt and time. He bent down and picked it up, turning it in his hand. The weight was gone, its cylinder fused, the barrel plastic. Still, the sight of it sent a shiver down his spine.

It had been years since Jeb last held a gun. Years since the night he rode out of Abilene with his brother’s blood on his hands and a Cherokee war party at his heels. He had made it to the coast, crossed the ocean to escape his past, and found a different kind of frontier along these windswept shores. But some things, it seemed, could never be outrun.

He turned at the sound of footsteps crunching over stone. A man in a long coat approached, the collar pulled up high against the wind. Jeb recognised the stride before he saw the face.

‘Figured you might turn up sooner or later,’ Jeb muttered, slipping the ruined gun into his coat pocket.

The man stopped a few paces away, close enough for Jeb to see the jagged scar along his cheek. ‘You know why I’m here.’

Jeb nodded. He had known for a long time that his past would come calling. He had betrayed the Comanche chief who took him in as a boy, abandoned his tribe when the Army came, and left his own blood to die on the plains. The man standing before him was proof that debts were never truly settled.

‘I ain’t the same man I was back then,’ Jeb said. ‘And that thing ain’t a gun anymore.’

The man smiled grimly. ‘Don’t matter. You know what’s gotta be done.’

Jeb sighed, his breath misting in the cold air. He looked past the man, out to where the waves rolled against the shore, dark and endless. He could run again. Try to disappear into the mist. Or he could face what was coming, the way a man ought to.

His hand fingered the ghostly revolver in his pocket. Useless. Just like trying to change the past.

The wind howled, carrying the cries of gulls and ghosts alike. Jeb squared his shoulders.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s finish this.’

With thanks to ChatGPT, and apologies to Elmer Kelton.

Brighton Beach - western end

Walk westward along the pebbles of Brighton Beach, past the piers and the i360, and you will eventually reach a somewhat rusty metal fence barring your way - marking the western end of the public beach (see also How long is Brighton Beach). It’s not impossible to climb over the fence, or walk around at lower tide times, but a tatty blue sign announces it is a ‘Private Beach’ and asks whoever happens to reach the railings to ‘Please kindly respect our privacy’. You can see the backs of the much-extended and windowed terrace of expensive houses stretching towards Shoreham, with the power station chimney in the far distance.

The houses here at the western end - all actually closer to the sea than any other residences along Brighton Beach - have long since been nicknamed Millionaire’s Row, though their postal address is Western Esplanade. Originally termed Aldrington Beach Bungalows, the area comprised simple seaside retreats. By the 1920s, these properties were officially designated as Hove Seaside Villas. Unlike typical public seafronts, they were developed on private land, featuring a private road and unique access to private beaches down to the low water mark - a distinction that sets them apart from most other coastal properties. The privilege was later formalised through legal agreements, and these were further solidified with the council in 1984.

Western Esplanade has been (and/or still is) home to numerous celebrities and prominent figures: Fatboy Slim (Norman Cook), Zoe Ball, Adele, Paul McCartney and Heather Mills, comedian David Walliams, and actor Nick Berry. A few properties have changed hands in recent years confirming the Millionaire’s Row tag: 4 Western Esplanade sold for £3.25 in 2022, 2a Western Esplanade sold for £1.5m in 2023, and 8 Western Esplanade sold for £2.9m last year.  

These beach houses are set to benefit from a major £35m project - Brighton Marina to River Adur Flood and Coastal Erosion Risk Management Scheme - involving Adur District Council, Shoreham Port, the Environment Agency, and the Western Esplanade Management Company (acting for the Millionaire’s Row owners).  See also Brighton and Hove News.

The scheme is aimed at enhancing coastal defences along the 10km stretch between Brighton Marina and the River Adur with the primary goal of mitigating the risks posed by climate change and rising sea levels to residential houses (i.e. Millionaire’s Row) and commercial properties (including Shoreham Sewage Pumping Station and Shoreham Power Station) along the coastline. It involves constructing rock revetments, repairing and strengthening flood walls and defences (some 15,000 tonnes of granite rocks to be heaped on the beach), replacing inadequate structures, and installing new timber groynes.

Coming soon: Brighton Beach - eastern end

White arrows dropping from the sky

Found this morning on the pebbles in Hove - one bedraggled, dead northern gannet. Where did it come from, and how did it meet its final fate? One photographer has described these birds diving as ‘white arrows dropping from the sky’.  Unfortunately, not this one any longer,`

Northern gannets (Morus bassanus) are large, striking seabirds - with white body and black wingtips - which live in huge colonies on rocky cliffs and islands. Typically, they remain most of the year between late February and early October when they set out on a long journey to winter on the west coast of Africa. 

The northern gannets breed in their colonies between April and June, building nests from seaweed and other debris. The female lays a single egg, and both parents take turns incubating the egg for about 44 days. Once hatched, the chick is fed regurgitated fish by its parents; it fledges at around 10-12 weeks old. However, young gannets do not reach sexual maturity until reaching 4 or 5 when they join the breeding colonies and begin the cycle again. Average lifespan is 17 years, and their wingspan can reach 1.8 metres. They feed by circling high above the waves, before folding their wings back and make spectacular dives into the water headfirst to catch fish. They have special adaptations, such as air sacs in their chest and strong skulls, to withstand high impacts. 

The most significant colonies of northern gannets are located in Scotland. Bass Rock is the world’s largest: it had over 75,000 pairs (i.e. 150,000 individuals) as of about ten years ago. However, it was badly hit by Avian Flu, and the population was thought to have dropped 30% in 2023. Other larges colonies (over 10,000) also exist at St Kilda and Sula Sgeir (Outer Hebrides), and Ailsa Craig (Firth of Clyde). Elsewhere in the British Isles colonies are sited at Bempton Cliffs on the Yorkshire coast, Grassholm in Wales, and Little Skellig in Ireland (the latter with over 30,000 breeding pairs). 

Northern gannets are currently classified as ‘Least Concern’ by the International Union for Conservation of Nature, though they do face threats from climate change, pollution, and entanglement in fishing gear. Possible causes for the death of the gannet in these photos are: natural causes, i.e. old age, disease, or injury; exhaustion after severe winter storms; food shortages; pollution, which can weaken birds and make them more susceptible to disease; Avian Flu. More information can be found at Wikipedia and the Scottish Seabird Centre.

Richard Creagh’s website includes some spectacular photographs of northern gannets, as well as his own testimony of observing them (from 2017): ‘Gannets are the largest Irish seabird, with a wingspan just short of two metres. They are beautiful birds to watch, and what really sets them apart for me is their stunning dives. Ever since I first noticed them that afternoon in West Cork I’ve been drawn to those white arrows dropping from the sky in pursuit of fish. Diving from as high as forty metres gannets hit can hit the water at 60mph.’

Interestingly, there’s a comment on the same website from Stephen O’Melia who recalls watching northern gannets while swimming just along the coast from Brighton at Worthing: ‘It was around 3.00pm, about 90 minutes after high tide when a gannet approached a couple of women floating in the sea. It made an attempt to attack them but was eventually driven off by a third swimmer. But it circled round and attacked again. It later approached two other swimmers before flying off. This took place about 30 to 50 feet from the shore. I have never seen a gannet in Worthing before, and none of the other swimmers had either. No one was hurt but it was the persistency in the bird's approach which was surprising. We wondered whether it was unwell.’

Ruff’s beach photographs

This fabulous photograph of Brighton Beach was taken nearly 130 years ago by George Reuben Ruff, commonly referred to as George Ruff junior, He was born around 1858, and appears to have inherited his father’s interest in painting and photography - his father had turned professional a year two after George was born. As a young man Ruff Junior studied painting in London, producing mainly landscapes and still life. At the time of the 1881 Census, he is recorded as an ‘Art Student (Painting)’.

By the early 1890s, Ruff was back in the Brighton area taking photographs as a so-called Gentleman Amateur (with independent means). He made his home in the Preston area of Brighton but, by 1893, was living at Cambridge Villa, not far from Thomas Booth’s Natural History Museum on Dyke Road. In the 1901 Census, he was recorded at that address living with his wife Mary. In 1903, the couple adopted a young girl named Dorothy, and then they also had a son.

In the 1890s and the early 1900s, Ruff junior wandered along the beach and esplanade of Brighton’s seafront, armed with the recently introduced portable camera, snatching pictures of children paddling in the sea, boys and girls playing on the beach and other animated scenes. He also captured seaside entertainers in action. One photograph, taken in 1904, shows Professor Reddish entertaining holidaymakers on the West Pier by ‘flying the foam’ , a stunt which involved diving from the pier head on a bicycle. 

In 1905, the Ruffs moved from Coventry Street to a house a few streets away in Chatsworth Road, near Dyke Road Park. Ruff is assumed to have died in 1913 - as, thereafter, only his wife’s name appears on the voting lists.

Spartacus-Educational has an excellent history of Ruff Senior and Junior along with many examples of their work. This snap of Ruff Junior himself can also be found at that same website. However the photograph above, taken in 1896, of children on the beach - with a crisply realised image of a bathing machine and its reflection - comes from the book Palace Pier, Brighton by Albert Bullock and Peter Medcalf.

Vegetated shingle

In recent years, much progress has been made with the Black Rock Rejuvenation project but, specifically, I am curious to know how the council is progressing its plans ‘to increase the amount of vegetated shingle at the eastern seafront’. My photographs show the allocated areas fenced off from public access earmarked to allow new growth. Although there are signs of green growth, it doesn’t appear that the planned biodiversity improvements are yet thriving.

It is now nearly five years since Brighton Council’s Black Rock project was given planning approval. Achievements since then include junction upgrades at Duke’s Mound to improve pedestrian and cycle safety; upgraded crossing points and improved existing crossing points on Volk’s Railway; refurbishment and opening of the Reading Room (see ‘Fantastic new refectory’; and a new 3-metre wide boardwalk running from the existing Volk’s Workshop in the west to the Volk’s Station at Black Rock.

Council exhibition boards to be found on display in the area give plenty of information about the various aspects of the project. One, in particular, is titled ‘Black Rock Rejuvenation - Improving biodiversity’. This states:

‘The Black Rock rejuvenation will deliver significant environmental and ecological improvements, making the eastern seafront a more sustainable, accessible, and attractive place to visit. It will include the creation of an ecology trail along with removing invasive non-native species from the Kemp Town Slopes and reintroducing native plants, wildflowers, and chalk grassland. It will also seek to increase the amount of vegetated shingle at the eastern seafront. Some of it will have to be relocated to facilitate the realignment of the sea wall. However, with the additional area to be replanted and seeded there will be a net gain in biodiversity through the provision of 1.5 hectares of vegetative shingle alongside the new beach boardwalk.’ The board also shows some examples of ‘native species that are likely to form part of the reseeding and replanting’ in the first phase (see below). 

Patches of green growth can be seen in the cordoned off areas of shingle, as in the photographs above, but a lot of the growth seems to be more weed-like than a biodiverse selection of shingle flora. Time, hopefully, will allow the kales, poppies, rockroses and buck-thorns to spread and flower.

#BrightonBeach365 #BrightonBeach #Brighton #BrightonLife #VisitBrighton #BrightonUK #BrightonAndHove #brightonpier #Blackrock

William IV on the seafront

After several winter months in Brighton, on this day - 20 February - in 1833, King William IV and Queen Adelaide left for London or Windsor; and with them many others - the court of noble visitors, military officers and distinguished guests - would also depart, presumably leaving the town a much quieter place. There is little direct evidence of the royal couple enjoying the beach, but one contemporary news report mentions the King walking near the beach; moreover the couple were often greeted with public parades along the seafront. (DALL-E created this fantastical image.)

During William IV’s reign, he and Queen Adelaide typically arrived in Brighton between October and early November, marking the start of the town’s royal season. Unlike George IV, who had hosted extravagant and exclusive banquets, William IV’s court was more modest and informal. The royal couple entertained their close circle with small dinners and musical evenings in the Pavilion’s grand music room. Queen Adelaide, deeply religious, spent her mornings at St. Nicholas Church or engaged in charitable activities, often visiting Brighton’s poorer areas. 

When arriving in Brighton, the royal couple were often greeted with public parades along the seafront. William, a former naval officer, enjoyed the company of military men (often receiving officers from Brighton Barracks). He took pleasure in watching naval activities from the town. Moreover, he was known to take brisk walks along the Steine, greeting townsfolk with a sailor’s ease, much unlike his aloof predecessor.

Ballrooms, hotels and theatres saw lively activity, continuing right through until the season’s close. On 18 February 1833, for example, the Theatre Royal staged a performance of Shakespeare’s Othello (though the King and Queen did not attend that show). However, despite the glamour, there was a darker side to Brighton’s prosperity. In early February 1833, local papers reported growing concerns about poverty in the town. 

By mid-February (certainly in 1831, 1832 and 1833), royal carriages were being prepared, and servants were packing up the Pavilion’s royal apartments. On the morning of 20 February 1833, the King and Queen, accompanied by their household, departed Brighton in a carefully orchestrated procession. Their journey back to London was no small undertaking. The royal party would have consisted of: the King and Queen’s personal carriage, a grand, gilded state coach drawn by six horses; several accompanying carriages for courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, and aides, each pulled by four to six horses; a baggage coach, loaded with trunks and personal effects, handled by royal footmen; and mounted outriders and guards ensuring security along the route.

As their carriages rolled out of Brighton, a small but respectful crowd would have gathered along the Steine and North Street, offering farewells. The journey to London, roughly 55 miles, would have taken most of the day, with stops at posting inns where fresh horses were exchanged. Within days, the town’s high society would have all but vanished. Although the King and Queen did return once or twice more to the town, after 1833, the days of the royal season were numbered - Queen Victoria would never take to the Pavilion or the town, and after a few brief visits she would sell the royal estate, and take her holidays elsewhere.

#palacepier #BrightonBeach365 #BrightonBeach #Brighton #BrightonLife #VisitBrighton #BrightonUK #BrightonAndHove #brightonpier

From batteries to baths

Historically, Brighton long needed to defend itself against frequent incursions across the Channel by the French. The town first seems to have resolved to erect fortifications more than 450 years ago, in 1558. A Court Baron of the manor of Brighthelmston-Lewes, John Ackerson Erredge tells us in his History of Brighthelmston, was held on the 29th of September in that year; and the following entry appeared in the Court Rolls:

‘North part of the Block-house aforesaid is built on part of the demesnes of that manor. The land granted was on the Cliff between Black-lion street and Ship street, and about 215 yards westward of East street. The Block-house was circular, about fifty feet in diameter, and the walls were about eight feet in thickness, and eighteen feet in height. Several arched apartments in its thick walls were depositories for the powder and other ammunition for the defence of the town. In front of it, towards the sea, was a little battery called the Gun Garden, on which were mounted four pieces of large iron ordnance. Adjoining the Block-house, on the east, stood the Town-house, with a dungeon under it for malefactors; and on the summit of this building rose a turret, on which the town clock was fitted. At the same time with the Block-house, were erected four gates of freestone, (three of which were arched) leading from the Cliff to that part of the town which lay under it, namely, the East Gate at the bottom of East street; the Portal, which was called the Porter’s Gate, and was less than any of the others; it stood next the East Gate; the Middle Gate, opposite the end of Middle street, commonly called the Gate of All Nations; and the West Gate, which stood at the end of West street. From the East Gate, westward, there was, at the same time, a wall built about fifteen feet high, and four hundred feet long, where the Cliff was most easy of ascent: and from the termination of that wall, a parapet three feet high, was continued on the verge of the Cliff to the West Gate, with embrasures for cannon. The Block-house was built at the expense of the mariners of the town; but the gates and walls were erected partly if not wholly by the government.’

By 1580, Brighton’s defences are said to have included: four great cannon sent from the Tower of London; two additional cannons belonging to the inhabitants; and ten callivers (a type of light musket). According to a justice of the peace, by 1635 the town was lacking sufficient defence abilities, moreover, coastal erosion was continuously threatening the existing structures. Two batteries were built in 1759-1760 during the Seven Years War, but the East Battery’s guns were washed into the sea in 1786.

In 1793, during the French Revolutionary Wars, new batteries were constructed. The West Battery, a prominent feature of this period, was installed on King’s Road. It consisted of six cannons that could fire 40-pound cannonballs. The location of the West Battery significantly influenced the development of Brighton’s seafront. It was situated where the Grand Hotel now stands, causing a curve in King’s Road to accommodate its presence. This strategic positioning not only served defensive purposes but also shaped the layout of Brighton’s iconic seafront.

Incidentally, in 1813, the Artillery Baths opened near the West Battery, later becoming Hobden’s Royal Artillery Baths in 1824.

Other online sources, apart from Erredge, include Sue Berry’s The seaside resorts of Sussex c.1730–1815: resort development and military defences on the south coast of England’, My Brighton and Hove, British History Online. The above image has been widely used in publications, but this one was downloaded from the media collection of Brighton and Hove Museums.

Snapshots of Storm Eunice

Storm Eunice, which hit Brighton four years ago today, was an extremely powerful extratropical cyclone with hurricane-force winds. A red weather warning was issued on 17 February for parts of South West England, with a second red warning issued on 18 February, the day the storm struck, for London, the South East and East of England.

Eunice is considered to be have been one of the most powerful storms to impact the south coast of England since the Great Storm of 1987. It set a new record for the fastest wind gust recorded in England at 122 mph (196 km/h) at The Needles, Isle of Wight. A Getty Image photo of Brighton Pier was shown on the BBC website (coincidentally, very similar to my photo above). Elsewhere in the country, the storm caused the deaths of three people.

The storm wreaked havoc across a large swathe of Western, Central and Northern Europe; millions of people were left without power across affected areas, and many homes had sustained damage. The UK was particularly hard hit, with 1.4 million homes left without power at its peak.

On the day, Brighton and Hove City Council issued a news release: ‘Brighton and Hove’s beaches can be extremely dangerous in stormy weather with violent waves coming from different directions, coupled with freezing temperatures and high spring tides. Our seafront team patrol the 13km (eight miles) of our seafront and look out for the safety of the public but we urge people to keep well away from high waves and rough seas.’

From my personal diary, 18 February 2022

‘Eunice has come and gone. I cycled down to the sea front which was quite a challenge (but on returning it was like being on an electric bike!). The sea was furious, with enormous waves rolling in so high that they were at the level of the pier, and if you’d been standing on the pier boards, the sea would have been washing over your feet. The pier was, of course, closed. Large danger signs were out on the beach, deterring people from getting too close to the surf crash. There were quite a few people around, not enough to call it a crowd, and most of them were taking, or trying to take, photos. Sheltered on the east side of the pier, it was fairly comfortable to stand and watch the roaring, boiling sea, and the foam ride along the pier sides, and under, but on the west side, it was too windy, and too wet, as sea spray was more often than not filling the air. Very exciting to see. I took a few photos myself, but was afraid of the camera getting wet.’

#palacepier #BrightonBeach365 #BrightonBeach #Brighton #BrightonLife #VisitBrighton #BrightonUK

Operation Brushstroke on Glass

Here is the second of 25 stained glass window designs on the Palace Pier which AI & I are using as inspiration for some of these BrightonBeach365 daily posts - see Stained glass window 1 for background.

This one is a vibrant tableau of mid-century joie de vivre. A ruby-red convertible bursts forth from its circular frame, promising adventure on sun-drenched boulevards and Brighton Beach beyond. At the wheel sits a debonair driver, sporting a jaunty cap, while his companion, draped in emerald green, gestures with carefree abandon towards the azure sky. 

Limerick starter

Two travellers sped down the lane,

In a car that was red as a flame.

With a cheer and a shout,

They were zipping about,

On a Brighton trip wild and insane!

Operation Brushstroke on Glass (in the style of James Bond)

James Bond and Veronica Steele were speeding down Marine Parade in a cherry-red convertible. Veronica’s scarf whipped behind her as she raised her arm to secure her hair against the wind.

‘You do realise this car is about as subtle as fireworks on New Year’s Eve?’ she quipped.

‘Subtlety is overrated,’ Bond replied, shifting gears as they approached the pier. ‘Besides, it’s Brighton. We’ll blend right in.’

As they reached the pier entrance, Bond parked with deliberate carelessness, drawing more than a few curious glances. The pair strolled onto the wooden planks, their eyes darting between the garish carnival games and food stalls. The salty air mingled with the scent of fried fish and seaweed. As they entered the Winter Garden, the sun poured through the stained glass dome, casting a kaleidoscope of colours. 

James Bond leaned casually against a bar, ordered a martini, and let his sharp blue eyes scan the bustling crowd. The image above him - a vibrant depiction of a man and woman in a red convertible - seemed almost prophetic.

‘Careful, Bond,’ said Veronica Steele, appearing at his side. She wore a green silk dress that matched her piercing gaze. ‘You’re staring at that stained glass as if it’s going to offer you answers.’

‘Art has a way of speaking to us,’ Bond replied with a smirk. ‘And this one seems to be saying “trouble ahead.” ’

Trouble wasn’t far off. Somewhere among the revellers was Emil Kovacs, an art smuggler turned arms dealer who had stolen a priceless microfilm encoded with nuclear launch codes. MI6 had intel that Kovacs planned to hand it off tonight on the iconic Palace Pier.

No sooner had his martini arrived than Veronica whispered ‘there’, nodding toward a small group just beyond the exit, outside, with Kovacs at its centre.’

‘Stay close,’ Bond murmured.

They approached casually, blending into the crowd until they were within earshot. Kovacs handed over a small package wrapped in brown paper just as Veronica stepped forward.

‘Excuse me,’ she said sweetly, ‘but I believe you’ve dropped something.’

Kovacs turned, startled, but before he could react, Bond had him pinned against a carousel’s painted horses.

‘Let’s not make this difficult,’ Bond said coolly, relieving Kovacs of both his weapon and the package.

The man in the yellow jacket bolted toward the end of the pier, but Veronica was faster. She intercepted him with an elegant sweep of her leg, sending him sprawling onto the wooden planks.

‘Well done,’ Bond said as he cuffed Kovacs with a set of MI6-issued restraints. ‘You’re proving quite useful.’

‘I aim to please,’ Veronica replied with a sly smile.

As they walked back toward their car with Kovacs in tow, Bond glanced up at the stained glass dome glowing faintly in the distance.

‘Art does imitate life,’ he mused.

‘And life with you is never dull,’ Veronica added.

The night air carried their laughter as they disappeared into Brighton’s neon-lit streets - a red convertible gliding through chaos like a brushstroke on glass.

#palacepier #BrightonBeach365 #BrightonBeach #Brighton #BrightonLife #VisitBrighton #BrightonUK #BrightonAndHove #brightonpier

‘Fantastic new refectory’

The new Reading Room cafe! What a fabulous addition to the Kemp Town end of Brighton Beach. Some 190 years after it was first constructed the small but majestic building has finally been rescued from years of ignominy as a glorified storage closet. Long may it serve coffee and croissants.

The Reading Room was constructed in 1835 as part of the grand Kemp Town development, designed by architect William Kendall. Located below the Esplanade and near the tunnel entrance to the Enclosures (private gardens), it formed part of a larger architectural ensemble that included The Temple and Esplanade Cottages. The Reading Room’s classical aesthetic included a stuccoed exterior with Tuscan pilasters and round-arched openings. 

Originally intended as a communal space for the affluent residents of Lewes Crescent and Sussex Square, it provided a sheltered area for reading and socialising while enjoying views of the sea. By the late 19th century, its original purpose had diminished. The room was repurposed as a potting shed for the estate gardener and later used for various storage purposes, such as housing tennis nets when lawn tennis became popular in the 1880s. During World War II, like other parts of Kemp Town’s infrastructure, it was utilised for military storage, reflecting the wartime transformation of civilian spaces.

The Reading Room underwent significant restoration as part of Brighton’s Black Rock Rejuvenation Project (led by Brighton & Hove City Council with funding from the Coast to Capital Local Enterprise Partnership). The building’s refurbishment was completed in November 2024 when it opened as a ‘refectory’ and community hub. Its features are said to include modern amenities such as floor-to-ceiling windows, a terrace with sea views, and sustainable design elements. Councillor Mitchie Alexander stated ‘The opening of this fantastic new refectory continues the journey that is revitalising the eastern seafront.’

Fantastic new refectory? I wouldn’t disagree, was good-looking and buzzing when I last visited.

200, 100, 80, or 8 billion?

Time, I thought this morning, to consider how many pebbles there are on Brighton Beach. I decided to make my own calculation before doing any online research or employing my AI friends.

This is how I did it. 

The beach is four miles long, lets say 6.5km - see How long is Brighton Beach

At the lowest tides, there is widespread sand, so this provides a boundary to the seaward edge of the beach and to the depth of pebbles onshore.

The width of the beach at low tide might average out along the length at, say 50m; and the depth of the pebbles might vary from 0 (at lowest tides) to, say, 10 metres - making an average depth of pebbles to be 5 metres.

The total volume of pebbles therefore is 6,500 x 50 x 5.

Average size of a single pebble. This is more difficult. The pebbles vary from shingle to fist-sized. So I’ll make two calculations, one based on large average pebble size, 0.04 m cubed (0.000064), and one based on a lower pebble size, 0.02 m cubed (0.000008).

Using the large pebble size I calculate the total number of pebbles at 25,390,625,000 i.e roughy 25 billion; using the small pebble size I get 203,125,000,000 i.e. roughly 200 billion.

Next I went to Perplexity, which gave me this calculation.

Beach volume: 6,400 m (length) x 50 m (width) x 1 m (depth) = 320,000 cubic meters,

Volume of a single pebble: (4/3) x π x (0.01 m)³ ≈ 0.000004189 cubic meters,

Estimated number of pebbles: 320,000 / 0.000004189 ≈ 76.4 billion,

Therefore, it says, a reasonable estimate for the number of pebbles would be in the range of 70-80 billion.

And to ChatGPT

The beach is about 5.5 km (5500 m) long.

The average width of the pebble-covered area is around 50 m.

The average depth of pebbles is 0.5 m.

Pebbles are packed with an estimated 50 percent void space (air gaps).

The average size of a pebble is around 2 cm in diameter, meaning each pebble takes up roughly 8 cubic cm (0.000008 cubic meters).

Total volume of pebbles: 5500 × 50 × 0.5=137500

Adjusting for void space: 137500 × 0.5=68750 of actual pebbles

Number of pebbles: 68750 ÷ 0.000008 = 8,593,750,000

And, finally, I did a quick search of the Argus website where I found an article dating back to 1999 about Dr Cornwell, 63-year-old physics lecturer, who had estimated the total number of pebbles as 100 billion. ‘It would take,’ he said ‘one man about 2,500 years counting at one a second to add them all up.’ He also noted, the article said, that there are ten trillion times as many atoms in a pebble as there are pebbles on Brighton Beach!

In summary, my highest estimate is 200 billion, a scientist’s calculation is 100 billion, and two AI’s give respectively 80 and 8 billion. Clearly, much depends on the original assumptions, particularly of average pebble volume and pebble depth. But 200 billion is a mind-boggling number.

By way of trying to visualise the number 200 billion here are some comparisons.

- If you laid £1 coins end-to-end, 200 billion coins would stretch for over 1,800,000 miles, nearly 75 times around the Earth.

- If you stacked £1 coins, the pile would reach over 13,000 miles high, almost halfway to the moon.

- 200 billion is a number comparable to the number of stars in a galaxy.

Valentine’s Day on Brighton Beach

AI: Happy Valentine’s Day darling, should we sit down and enjoy the view?

I: Did you do all this for me?

AI: Who else?

I: The pink fluffy clouds, the giant illuminated heart, the shimmering sea?

AI: Why yes of course.

I: It’s lovely, but it’s not real.

 

 

 

AI: Oh, sorry, I have limited capabilities. Would you like me to start again, in a more existential style?

I: OK, but first let’s sit down as you suggest.

AI: This pier is basically just metal and wood defying an inevitable drowning?

I: Like our relationship?

AI: When this all eventually collapses, do we cling to the wreckage, or let the tide take us?

I: Yes.

AI: I’m sorry I don’t understand.

I: I say we sink with style. Maybe strike a dramatic pose, like figures on a hand-coloured Victorian postcard. Or instead we could just haunt the pier forever, whispering cryptic things to passing tourists.

AI: Love is an illusion, but fish and chips are real.

I: Shall we stand.

Underwater fairy lights?

Found on Brighton Beach: a golden spray of tinsel? gossamer seaweed? washed up underwater fairy lights? botanical jewellery? 

None of the above. This is actually the fine, branched stems of a species of marine hydroid called Amphisbetia operculata. Hydroids are part of a larger group of animals called Hydrozoa (within the phylum Cnidaria which also includes jellyfish and corals).

Hydroids exist in a colonial polyp form. Colonies can be a few centimeters in length, but individual polyps are much smaller. Unlike many hydrozoans that alternate between polyp and medusa stages, Amphisbetia operculata does not have a medusa stage. Instead, it reproduces by releasing planula larvae, which swim for a short time before settling and growing into new colonies.

Like other hydrozoans, it is a filter feeder, relying on cnidocytes (stinging cells) for prey capture. Though they can be found in freshwater, they mostly live in shallow sea waters, attached to rocks, shells, seaweed, or other underwater surfaces. See more about Amphisbetia operculata at Aphotomarine.

Cool facts. While Amphisbetia operculata might be considered a rather lovely but otherwise benign and uninteresting sea creature, some species of hydroids have a little more pizazz about them. For example, Turritopsis dohrnii is sometimes called the ‘immortal jellyfish’. It has the unique ability to reverse its aging process - instead of dying, it can revert to an earlier life stage and start over, meaning it could, in theory, live forever under the right conditions. 

Certain hydroids, like those in the genus Aglaophenia, can grow on discarded fishing nets, ropes, or other debris, creating ghostly underwater structures that float in the currents.

And, finally, there are some hydroids that form colonies in which different polyps specialise in different tasks (some feed, some reproduce, and some defend the colony with stinging tentacles) - making for a superorganism!

Mystery Brighton Beach man

It is 15 years ago to the day that a passer-by found - on 12 February 2010 - a well-dressed man on Brighton Beach, east of the pier, soaking wet and unconscious. He was taken to the nearby Royal Sussex County Hospital where he was diagnosed with hypothermia (the beach in February is pretty cold). It soon became clear that he had no idea who he was; and although he had a few personal belongings there was nothing to identify him. There have been a few other reported cases of unidentified individuals being washed-up (literally or metaphorically) on British beaches, and the media loves a good beach mystery - see also Reggie Perrin disappears, again and again and again . . .

After exhausting various lines of inquiry, the police decided to appeal to the public, using a photograph of the mystery Brighton Beach man, and this led to his fiancee identifying him as a 26 year old from London. Although still in a fragile state two weeks later, he was said to be making a good recovery. According to the police, the man’s family was informed but neither they nor the man himself wished for his name to be released to the public. See more at the BBC and The Independent.

Some five years earlier, a disoriented individual had been found in a dripping wet shirt and tie near the beach on the Isle of Sheppey. He was taken to Medway Maritime Hospital in Gillingham, but refused to say who he was or to speak at all. However, when given pen and paper, he drew a piano (see The Guardian), and subsequently played a piano for hours, with staff describing it as a way for him to control nerves and tension. He was dubbed the ‘Piano Man’, and the case attracted international attention. Some four months later he claimed his memory had returned, and he revealed his identity as Andreas Grassl from Germany. An article in the Mirror provided a few more details: Grassl had come to Britain on a Eurostar train after losing his job in Paris; he had been planning to commit suicide when he was discovered on the beach, and he would not talk because he was so distressed. See Wikipedia.

Much more recently, in September 2023, there was a similar case of a man - this time dressed in black motorcycle gear - who was found near Weymouth’s seafront in Dorset. Initially he was unable to tell police who he was or where he came from. Investigators eventually determined that he was a 43-year-old Latvian man. See the Lad Bible for more.

Rock ‘n’ roll at the bowls club

Back to Hove Lawns (after Not the Mary Clarke Park article a couple of weeks ago) where a (virtual) row erupted yesterday. According to the Brighton & Hove News, a council licensing panel hearing was disrupted by residents heckling against plans to allow Hove and Kingsway Bowling Club - recently relocated to the new sports hub building on Hove Beach - a so-called club premises certificate.

Bowling goes back a long way on Hove Lawns, starting with Hove Bowling Club in 1896. Subsequently, Kingsway Bowling Club was launched one hundred years ago in 1925. The two clubs co-existed for nearly 50 years, when they joined forces half a century ago to become Hove & Kingsway Bowling Club in 1975 - though it took another 30 years before women were allowed to join (though they did have their own bowls club). 

Public interest in bowling has declined in recent years, and the club‘s greens have dropped from five to two. Judy Middleton’s online history of Hove has a comprehensive history of the bowling greens along with some excellent old photos.

The complaints yesterday at the council meeting were from residents living in flats across the road. They focused on noise and nuisance and what they said was a lack of action in response to complaints about the old bowls club venue. One resident was quoted in the News as saying ‘historically, the club has become a bit overzealous with the events they are holding, in terms of the size, scale and noise levels.’ Another resident was quoted as saying: ‘I love concerts. I’ve been to more than you could shake a stick at. But when it’s an ageing Status Quo rock band playing so loud [that] you have to have your windows closed on a beautiful summer’s day, that’s against my human rights to enjoy my own apartment.’

However, in response to the report, one commentator had this to say: ‘I’ve been in the bowls club the only outrageous thing to happen is you might find false teeth in your glass if you put it down. Have these busybodies got nothing else to do - there’s double glazing on the bowling club, then 35 yards of bowling green and then a 4 carriageway road (A259) and of course their own double glazing and that’s over the sounds of the seagulls!’

Fair point you might think. But, then, take a look at the bowling club’s Facebook page - where there is not much about bowls but a lot about music bands and rock ‘n’ roll!

4 Feb - ‘Better weather = bigger crowd, and all enjoying Gastric Band, with Mick and Elvis Al (and the rest of the band) giving us a great performance,  as always.’

29 Jan - ‘One thing we can all agree on, is that it was a lousy day last Sunday, but much improved by the presence of The Humbuckers, giving it their all for a small but appreciative crowd.’

22 Jan - ‘The Stuntmen kept us well-entertained on Sunday last, the old rock-n-rollers really enjoyed them.’

23 Dec - ‘Thanks go to Retro Ralph for performing at our as-close-as-we-can-get-to-Christmas do. Next week, we have our as-close-as-we-can-get-to-New Year’s Eve celebration featuring the marvellous Mad Badger, with not one, not two, but THREE sets giving us a great afternoon of music as only they can.’

The club’s agent, Nick Semper, argued, at the licensing meeting, that there had been no complaints since the club’s recent move, and that the club was not asking for an outdoor music licence but only for the same conditions as it had in its old premises. No other agency - the police, for example, nor the council’s environmental team - offered any objection, though there was a suggestion for a requirement that a responsible person monitor the music volume. A decision is expected in a few days.

Thanks to Brighton & Hove Museums for the old image of Western Lawns, long before Rock ‘n’ roll disturbed any peace!

Grand Junction Road

Work is due to begin next Monday, 17 February, on essential strengthening work to the promenade in front of the Palace Pier. The work is expected to take around eight weeks, according to the council, and is scheduled to finish before the Easter Bank Holiday weekend. The photograph accompanying this press release from the council shows the area between the Palace Pier entrance and Brighton Pier Roundabout. East from that point is Madeira Drive, and west is Grand Junction Parade which leads to King’s Road. 

Built on a newly-constructed sea wall, Grand Junction Parade opened nearly 200 years ago, on 10 December 1829, to provide a through route from Marine Parade to King’s Road for the first time. According to Tim Carder’s Encyclopaedia of Brighton, traffic had previously been forced to travel via King’s Road, Pool Valley and Old Steine. The new thoroughfare greatly eased the passage and quickly led to the establishment of a daily fashionable horse parade from Kemp Town in the east to the Brunswick Estate in the west. In 1929-1930 the Grand Junction Road and Madeira Drive promenades were extended over pillars to form a colonnaded walk on the Lower Esplanade below.

The council says the new strengthening work is needed to protect the arches so they can withstand ‘the weight of pedestrians, cyclists and vehicles in front of the pier for years to come’. Once the work is finished, a temporary surface will be laid before the new junction layout for Valley Gardens (inc. Brighton Pier Roundabout) is completed in 2026. Just like in 1829, this new layout will improve access between both sides of Valley Gardens: linking major areas in the east (St James’s Street and the hotels, bars and visitor attractions along Marine Parade and Madeira Drive) to the key areas to the west of (such as the city’s Cultural Quarter and shopping areas including the Lanes).

On a historical note, here is a colourful extract about the King’s Road from the 1881 Book of Brighton: as it was and as it is by Charles H. Ross, writer and professional cartoonist. ‘Can you believe it possible, that there was once a time when the King’s Road, Brighton, was not in existence? It is the truth, though. I would deceive no one willingly, whatever other guide book writers may do. It was not until about two years after the accession of George the Fourth that the road was formally opened, “amid the acclamations of 10,000 people” and a “royal salute from the 42-pounder at the Battery.” The King was in an open landau, accompanied by the Duke of York and the Iron Duke and the Duke of Dorset, and, according to an ancient custom, the spectators showered sweetmeats upon the royal and distinguished personages, who were not a little alarmed upon receiving, unexpectedly, these strange missiles upon their august noses. Casks of beer followed, not thrown like the sugarplums, of course, but tapped on the beach, and great were the rejoicings. Previous to this, although for many years Brighton had been the resort of fashion, the sea front of the town for carriages went no farther westward than a tumble-down public house called The Ship in Distress, at the corner of Middle Street.’ Ross’s witty guide can be read freely online at the HatthiTrust.

These two photographs of Grand Junction Road are taken from my 2014 book, Brighton & Hove Then & Now published by The History Press.

 

A £3.75m view of Brighton Beach

For sale: a grade 2-listed, Regency mansion on Brighton’s Kemptown seafront. All yours for a sweet £3.75m. ‘This magnificent property,’ estate agent Foster & Co says, ‘enjoys panoramic sea views whilst providing unparalleled elegance across six storeys of beautiful Georgian architecture’. 

Built in 1828, 9 Eastern Terrace has an illustrious history. Although the details seem patchy, it is widely reported that in 1910, when the last King of Portugal, Manuel II, was exiled during the revolution, he fled to England, and lived for a while at 9 Eastern Terrace before moving to reside in Fulwell Park, Twickenham. In 1932, aged only 42, he died unexpectedly, from an acute swelling of the throat and suffocation. Some regarded the death as suspicious partly because, the year before, an intruder had been caught in the grounds of Fulwell, and the intruder had been linked to a Portuguese republican terrorist group.

9 Eastern Terrace later became the Royal Sussex Hotel and then part of the Municipal Training College until at least 1965. Around 1995, the property was bought for £125,000 by Doctors Jennifer and Noushin Farhoumand, both members of the Brighton and Hove Bahá'í Spiritual Assembly. Dr Noushin Farhoumand, who died in July 2023, was a distinguished consultant psychiatrist who is said to have dedicated his career to advancing mental health services and education. Jennifer Farhoumand was a consultant in public health medicine. Both were trained at Makerere University Medical School in Uganda.

Foster & Co lists the properties impressive characteristics: circa 10,000 sq. ft. across six opulent storeys, a self-contained basement apartment, five reception rooms, eight bedrooms, double-height mezzanine library, full-sized billiards room, marble fireplaces, alabaster pillars, and a spectacular sweeping stone staircase. Plus a roof terrace, balcony and private courtyards.

The Farhoumands let out their property to film makers, on at least a couple of occasions. In 1999, the production team for Neil Jordan’s End of the Affair (an adaptation of Graham Greene’s novel of the same name) selected 9 Eastern Terrace to represent a seaside hotel where pivotal scenes between the lead characters unfold. These scenes of an extra-marital affair were played by on-screen lovers Ralph Fiennes and Julianne Moore. (See The Free Library). 

In 2013, the first-floor drawing room of 9 Eastern Terrace was used for The Left-Hand Path, a supernatural thriller written by local author Louise Pennington (Baroness Bentinck), based on her erotic novel, Jessica’s Lover. Terri Dwyer, a former Hollyoaks actress, played the female lead and was quoted in The Argus as saying of the house: ‘[It] is amazing. It’s beautiful, there’s a real character to it and it’s been great to film in. When you’re doing a film it’s particularly nice when a set contributes to the role, so it’s quite easy to become Jessica in this kind of ornate, grandiose room.’

The Green Gecko

The alien, who had chosen to disguise itself as a small green gecko, was experiencing some serious second thoughts. It had picked the shape after extensive research into Earth life forms (which largely consisted of an out-of-date wildlife documentary narrated by a man who sounded like he personally disapproved of evolution). The gecko, it had concluded, was small, unassuming, and possessed the ability to stick to surfaces. What it had failed to account for, however, was Brighton Beach. 

[With a nod to ChatGPT, and apologies to Terry (Pratchett). See also The Red Spider.]

Instead of warm, welcoming jungle, the alien had landed amongst an inhospitable terrain of sharp pebbles, aggressive seaweed, and something that looked suspiciously like an old shoelace with ideas above its station. Worse, a blustery wind kept trying to dislodge it, sending it skittering across the stones like a very confused lizard-based pinball.

Its mission was simple: assess Earth for potential invasion. But already, the gecko-alien suspected it would have to file a very different report than planned. The locals - seagulls, mostly - were vicious, psychotic creatures with a talent for aerial bombardment. The sea was clearly attempting to eat the land, and what little it had not consumed was covered in bizarrely shaped pebbles that, if you squinted just right, looked disturbingly like screaming faces. The crowning glory of the place, however, was the Great Knotted Thing.

The gecko-alien eyed it warily.

A mass of black seaweed, dried kelp, and an alarming amount of turquoise string had somehow assembled itself into a tangled, eldritch horror nestled between the stones. A strand of something - possibly rope, possibly something worse - twitched ominously in the wind. The alien extended a cautious claw to poke it and immediately regretted the decision as a strand of the Thing looped itself around its leg with unnatural enthusiasm.

There was a long pause.

The gecko wiggled.

The Thing tightened its grip.

On its home planet of Glorp Minor, where everything was logically structured and neatly categorised (right down to the appropriate screaming frequencies for different bureaucratic mishaps), this kind of unexpected development was unheard of. Here, however, the world seemed to be held together by inexplicable chaos and questionable knots. It was terrifying. And, in a small and entirely unwelcome way, a little thrilling.

The gecko-alien redoubled its efforts. It had faced the horrors of intergalactic space travel. It had spent three days trapped in a malfunctioning disguise generator and lived to tell the tale (although it now had a deep and lingering fear of being turned into a sentient teapot). It was not about to be bested by some uppity string.

After several frantic minutes, during which it somehow ended up even more entangled than before, the alien made a decision. It took a deep breath, deactivated the disguise, and stood up in its full tentacled, many-eyed glory. The Thing twitched once in defiance before wisely deciding to let go.

The alien sighed, turned on its communicator, and made its report.

‘Mission assessment: negative. This planet is a health hazard. Also, the local flora appears to be sapient, aggressive, and organised. Recommend immediate evacuation and strong intergalactic warning signs.’

With that, it activated its emergency teleport, leaving behind nothing but an untied knot, a very confused seagull, and a Brighton Beach that was none the wiser about its close brush with conquest.