Fantasy, history and rhythm collide

Not that Brighton Beach needs much brightening up, but Dan Lish’s two murals do exactly that, one a whimsical hip-hop reimagining of Alice in Wonderland, and the other a wanderer’s dreamscape with floating turntables, cosmic clouds, and futuristic urban beats. Both murals fill up the frontage of Gallery 242, just west of the Palace Pier, and they can also be viewed online on the gallery’s website.

Lish describes himself as ‘a multi-disciplined artist . . . specialising in illustration, Video Game concept Art and Wall art’. Now living in Brighton, he spent seven years in New York City, freelancing as an illustrator and concept artist for clients including Sony, Lucas Arts and Rockstar Games. Within the video game industry he has been working on ‘numerous flagship titles for major developers’.

Lish also lists ‘comic and book illustrations, album cover art, and toy design’ among his artistic outputs. Through his celebrated Egostrip project, Lish says he has reimagined music legends like J Dilla, MF DOOM, and De La Soul ‘placing them in psychedelic, otherworldly settings where fantasy, history, and rhythm collide’. Egostrip Book 1 was published in 2020 and Egostrip Book 2 in 2023. See Lish’s Instagram account for more pics.

Deck chair history!

For how long have there been deck chairs on Palace Pier and Brighton Beach, or anywhere for that matter? Although folding chairs have ancient origins - they were known to have been used by Roman magistrates and to have been found in Egyptian tombs - the deck chair we know and love today only goes back to around the turn of the 19th/20th centuries - see Wikipedia. The earliest photograph/image I can find online dates back only to 1901.

Before then, the deck chair traces its origins to campaign furniture - i.e. portable, collapsible furniture used by military officers in the 18th and 19th centuries. These early designs were lightweight and designed for travel, often featuring wooden frames and fabric or leather seats. By the mid-19th century, shipbuilders adapted the concept for ocean liners and naval vessels, creating a sturdy yet collapsible wooden chair with a fabric sling. These chairs were used on the decks of passenger ships, hence the name ‘deck chair’. They allowed travellers to recline comfortably while enjoying the sea breeze.

But, it was the British inventor John Thomas Moore who, in 1886, patented an adjustable and portable folding chair and began producing them in Macclesfield from 1887. Photographs of Brighton Beach (as this one) from 1880-1890 (found in Victorian and Edwardian Brighton from old photographs by John Betjeman and J. S. Gray) show ordinary house chairs on the beach (rentable for 1p) but no sign of deck chairs. Indeed, the earliest photograph I can find online with deck chairs on a beach is at the Francis Frith website (a 1901 postcard of Filey sands and another from 1906 of Margate).

By this period, deck chairs were becoming a staple of leisure culture, not only on beaches but also in parks, gardens, and cruise ships. The famous Titanic had deck chairs available for first-class passengers. The striped fabric commonly associated with deck chairs became fashionable during this time. With the rise of plastic furniture in the 1960s and 70s, though, the traditional wooden deck chair saw a decline. However, in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, there was a revival of vintage seaside aesthetics, bringing back classic deck chairs to beaches, festivals, and garden settings. Today, deck chairs are not just nostalgic beach accessories but are also popular for outdoor events, garden furniture, and even art installations.

Although deck chairs on Brighton’s pebbles have long cost an arm and a leg to rent (look at today’s prices!), they have been free to use on Palace Pier for a long time, since 1984 in fact, when the pier was bought by the Noble Organisation. Under the then new management, entry fees to the pier were abolished, and complimentary deckchairs were introduced to encourage visitors.

The scuttle and the shuffle

LOBSTER: [snapping claws, looking out to sea]

Ah, the tang of salt in the air! The world is a buffet, and yet-so many pebbles, so little seaweed.

GORILLA: [rumbling voice, scratching belly]

You complain of pebbles? Try finding a banana among these stones. My kingdom for a palm tree.

LOBSTER: [clicking claws, sidling closer]

You land-dwellers never appreciate the subtlety of the tide. Each wave brings a new adventure! Or at least a lost chip wrapper.

GORILLA: [laughs, deep and rolling]

Adventure? I see only humans, ice cream, and the occasional stray dog. Where’s the thrill in that?

LOBSTER: [raising one claw, grandly]

Have you ever danced sideways under the moonlight, dodging buckets and spades? The thrill is in the scuttle, my friend.

GORILLA: [leans forward, curious]

Teach me your dance, Lobster. My feet are made for pounding, not prancing.

LOBSTER: 

With pleasure! But beware, the sideways shuffle is not for the faint of heart - or the heavy of foot.

GORILLA: [grins, attempts a sideways shuffle, pebbles flying]

How’s this for a gorilla groove?

LOBSTER: [applauds with claws]

Magnificent! You move like a tidal wave - unstoppable, slightly alarming.

GORILLA: 

And you, Lobster, are as nimble as a pebble in a storm. Perhaps we are both out of place here, yet perfectly at home.

LOBSTER: 

On Brighton Beach, everyone is a little out of place. That’s the magic.

GORILLA: [leans back, content]

Let’s watch the tide together. Maybe it will bring bananas. Or seaweed. Or something entirely unexpected.

LOBSTER:

Whatever comes, we’ll face it - with a scuttle and a shuffle.

Brighton Kidical Mass!

What a great day for the Brighton Kidical Mass! Sunshine, warmth, seaside, kids of all ages with their parents and friends, all cycling through Brighton in an exotic assemblage - a kaleidoscope - of cycles and other light pedal-powered vehicles. This is  a relatively new event, having started in 2023, and joins many sporty and family friendly annual gatherings that parade along the seafront - coming up next Saturday, for example, is the Brighton Festival Children’s Parade.

Kidical Mass is an international movement inspired by Critical Mass (which itself first emerged in San Francisco in 1992), aiming to create safer streets for children and families to cycle. The Brighton Kidical Mass began its local chapter with a first major ride in September 2023, attracting over 300 participants. The events are organised by Brighton Bike Hub, Bricycles and OSR Bike Train, with support from other local cycling groups and funding from Cycling UK’s Big Bike Revival. The rides are fully marshalled, free to join, and open to all ages, with a special focus on enabling children and families to cycle safely on city streets..

The event today featured ‘feeder rides’ starting from various parks and locations across Brighton & Hove (Wish Park, Hove Park, The Level, Black Rock and Preston Park). After congregating at the Peace Statue in Hove, they all rode together in a loop around town before finishing again at the Peace Statue. Participants were encouraged to decorate their bikes, dress up, and bring noise-makers, to create ‘a festive and inclusive atmosphere’. 

It certainly was just that when they passed me and my camera on Grand Junction Parade, opposite the Doughnut Groyne.

After last April’s ride (2024), Brighton and Hove News reported that it was ‘by far the biggest Kidical Mass ride we’ve yet seen’; and the article noted that local councillors and prospective MPs from the Labour and Green parties had taken part in the ride.

A godly spell

Golden liquor drizzled through the sky

Drizzled over all the pier, and the sands

Must be from the feast of gods, we sigh

With too much nectar on their hands

Lucky Bacchus at the table, Odin too

Chinking vessels, slurping mead

Sniggering at the glitter goo

That dazzles us, and feeds our need

What of the myths and sagas that they tell?

Should we rap on sequinned pebbles

Emblazoned as they are in glistening swell  

Or simply take a photo of such a godly spell.

The humour of Ridgewell

Here is Brighton Beach a century ago as seen by William Leigh Ridgewell, a Brighton-born cartoonist and illustrator. The cartoon was published in The Strand Magazine in 1925, part of an article called The Humour of Ridgewell. Many of Ridgewell’s cartoons and illustrations appeared in Punch and can be said to define a vivid strand of early 20th-century visual humour. 

Ridgewell was born in Brighton in 1881, the son of a commercial traveller and talented amateur illustrator. He demonstrated an early aptitude for art and later honed his skills at the Brighton School of Art, an institution known for producing commercially successful illustrators during the Edwardian era. His career took a distinctive turn during the First World War. While serving in India, he applied his artistic talents to wartime propaganda, designing posters to support the Indian War Loan campaign. His contributions extended to local publications such as The Looker-On and Indian Ink, which featured his humorous takes on colonial life. It’s easy to imagine these early experiences shaped the gently satirical tone for which he would become well known.

Following the war, Ridgewell returned to England and began contributing to a range of popular periodicals. His work appeared in Tit-Bits, Bystander, and The Passing Show, but it was his regular contributions to Punch magazine from 1920 until his death in 1937 that cemented his reputation. Punch, at that time a leading authority in British satire and comic illustration, offered Ridgewell a platform to develop his signature style - wry observations of middle-class life, often presented with understated but precise wit.

Ridgewell’s cartoons typically captured the peculiarities of British domesticity, drawing on familiar suburban settings and characters. The humour in his illustrations was more observational than exaggerated, presenting a subtly critical yet affectionate portrait of interwar England. Ridgewell’s line work was considered clean and expressive, his compositions economical but rich with social commentary.

In addition to editorial work, Ridgewell was also active in commercial illustration. He produced advertisements for well-known brands such as Stone’s Ginger Wine and Pratt’s Petrol. These pieces, while promotional in intent, maintained his recognisable style and wit, bridging the worlds of commercial and editorial cartooning in an era before this crossover was commonplace. He remained active in his profession until his death in 1937.

The full article - The Humour of Ridgewell - with several more cartoons can be viewed in The Strand Magazine, issue 69 (1925), available online at Internet Archive.

Dusty miller - friend or foe?

Found on Brighton Beach: silver ragwort (Jacobaea maritima), sometimes known as Dusty Miller, but is it friend or foe? This is a bushy, evergreen subshrub (a type of plant that combines features of both herbaceous and woody plants) recognised for its striking silvery-white foliage. The leaves are finely divided, deeply lobed, and covered with dense, felt-like, woolly hairs, which give the plant its characteristic silvery or grey-white appearance. The shrub is remarkably tolerant of salt spray, strong winds, and poor soils, making it well adapted for shingle beach environments.

Typically grown as an annual or biennial, Jacobaea maritima can sometimes behave as a short-lived perennial in milder climates. It begins from seed, germinating in well-drained soil, and quickly establishes its signature silvery foliage. In its first year, the plant focuses on vegetative growth, creating a dense, bushy form. The following year, it sends up tall flower stalks adorned with bright yellow, daisy-like flowers, blooming from summer to autumn. After flowering, it produces seeds, completing its life cycle.

The distinctive white, felt-like, tomentose (densely hairy) leaves give the plant a silvery, dusty appearance, evoking an image of a person covered in dust - hence the name ‘Dusty Miller’. Historically, it has been used in traditional medicine for its anti-inflammatory properties, though modern use is limited.

On Brighton Beach, silver ragwort thrives along the vegetated shingle habitat - a rare and internationally important ecosystem composed of pebbles and stones with pockets of sand and soil. It is often found alongside other hardy coastal species such as sea kale, yellow horned-poppy, and sea thrift, all of which are similarly adapted to the harsh, nutrient-poor conditions of shingle beaches. 

The Brighton & Hove Local Biodiversity Action Plan, adopted in 2012, briefly mentions silver ragwort as a ’non-native plant species of concern along the Volks Railway’, where ‘garden escapes now form a significant component of the flora’. And while there have also been concerns that in some areas, around the Black Rock site and along the Volks Railway, for example, about it being invasive, it is also recognised that silver ragwort can help stabilise shingle and offer ground cover.

It is worth noting that in the early 2000s, the species was reclassified from Senecio cineraria to Jacobaea maritima because of advancements in molecular phylogenetics and a better understanding of the plant’s genetic relationships.

More shingle and better groynes

Brighton & Hove City Council is set to launch the next stage in an extensive sea defence initiative aiming to bolster the city’s resilience against coastal erosion and flooding. The forthcoming phase of the Brighton Marina to River Adur Flood and Coastal Erosion Risk Management (FCERM) scheme will focus on fortifying the coastline from Kings Esplanade in Hove to Southwick Beach.​

Scheduled to commence in late September 2025, the project encompasses the construction of new timber groynes, the extension of the beach between the King Alfred Leisure Centre and Second Avenue, and the reconstruction of sea defences at Southwick Beach. These efforts, the council says, are designed to safeguard homes, businesses, and vital infrastructure, including the A259 coast road and Shoreham Port, from the increasing threats posed by climate change-induced sea-level rise and intensified storm activity.​

The council’s cabinet is due to meet tomorrow to approve an increase in funding for this phase, raising the capital contribution from £6.5 million to £11 million. This significant increase is necessary, the council says, because of inflationary pressures over the past five years and the need for additional shingle replenishment to stabilise beach bays. In a press statement, Councillor Trevor Muten emphasised the project’s significance, stating: ‘This scheme is vital for the city, to safeguard homes and businesses from coastal flooding and protect our local economy for decades to come.’

The initiative is a collaborative effort involving Brighton & Hove City Council, Adur & Worthing Councils, Shoreham Port Authority, and the Environment Agency. Each partner is responsible for financing and executing works within their respective jurisdictions, ensuring a unified approach to coastal defence across the vulnerable shoreline.​ Phase 1 of the FCERM scheme was completed in early 2024, delivered detailed designs, planning, licensing, and initial construction works near Hove Lagoon and Southwick Beach. With Phase 2, the focus shifts to constructing new groynes and replenishing shingle at Kings Esplanade, as well as rebuilding depleted sea defences at Southwick Beach.​

The construction timeline has been planned to minimise disruption, with works along Kings Esplanade slated from late September 2025 to May 2026, avoiding the peak summer season. Efforts will be made to ensure that seafront businesses remain operational during this period. Subsequent works at Southwick Beach are scheduled to begin in 2026, with completion anticipated by April 2027.​

The 24 April council meeting can be followed via a livestream, and an agenda is available here. The (rather dated) image above is from Googlemaps.

The Crimson Banner

Here is the sixth 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 image shows a ship, a galleon perhaps, with large white sails, a bright yellow sail at the stern, and a deep red hull. The sea is rendered in shades of turquoise, teal, and white, representing waves. The sky features soft pastel clouds in pink, purple, and blue, with a crimson pennant flying at the top of the tallest mast. The overall style is vibrant and stylised, with bold black outlines separating the coloured glass segments.

A limerick starter

A vessel once sailed through the pane,

Though how it got in, none explain.

It’s stuck there in hues,

Of purples and blues,

Forever becalmed in a frame.

The Crimson Banner (in the style of Robert Louis Stevenson)

The wind had a salt tang to it that morning, and the gulls wheeled in lazy circles over Brighton Beach. I had gone down early, before the town was fully awake, drawn by a dream that had clung to my waking mind like seaweed on a boot. In the dream, I had seen a ship - not of this age, but one from tales of treasure and peril - its sails full-bellied and a crimson banner flying high.

To my astonishment, that very vision met me on the seafront, not in the sea but in glass. Set into the round window of a crumbling bathhouse on the Esplanade was a stained-glass panel of a proud galleon with billowed sails, riding a crest of jade-green waves, the red pennant aloft as in my dream. The window caught the morning sun like a gem, and I stood spellbound.

‘You’ve seen her too,’ came a voice, old as rope and salt.

I turned. A man sat hunched on a nearby bench, his beard tangled like kelp and his eyes sharp beneath bushy brows.

‘I - I don’t know what you mean,’ I said, though my heart beat strangely.

‘She was called The Mirabel,’ he said, nodding toward the window. ‘Built when pirates still thumbed their noses at the navy. She set sail from this very coast with treasure enough to buy all Brighton. Never returned.’

‘What happened?’ I asked, stepping closer.

‘Some say storm, some say mutiny. I say she still sails - beneath the waves, mind you. Waiting for the one who remembers.’

The man rose, reaching into his coat. He drew out something wrapped in oilskin - a compass, brassy and old, its needle spinning wild until it settled true north.

‘I’ve watched that window forty years. Every spring tide, I look for the sign. And now you dream of her, lad. The sea remembers.’

I took the compass. It felt alive in my hand, pulsing with the mystery of tides and stars. I didn’t protest when he pressed it into my palm. The man tipped his cap and walked away, limping up the stony beach and vanishing into the mist that had begun to gather.

I turned back to the glass ship. The sun had risen fully now, and in its blaze, the red banner in the window glowed like fire.

That evening, drawn by the whisper of gulls and something deeper, I followed the compass along the beach. At the edge of the water, as the tide pulled back with a sigh, something gleamed beneath the surf - a coil of rope, the curve of a mast, the barest suggestion of a deck.

And the banner. Red, like a blood memory, fluttered once - and vanished.

Some say Brighton’s just a place of deckchairs and chips, but I say look deeper. The sea holds its secrets. And sometimes, just sometimes, it offers them back.

Des Marshall - urban Robinson Crusoe

‘I believe Brighton has more disturbed people in relation to the size of the population, than any other town in the country. There’s a sort of unreality about the town. It’s too frivolous. People don’t really listen to each other. They seem very excited and distracted. It is because it’s a holiday town, with too many distractions - the sea, the beach, the pier, the pretty women (there seems so many of them here), the men on the prowl for women, the buskers, the beach cafes with their coloured sunshades and ice-cream adverts, a sense of permanent holidaying atmosphere.’ This is a diary entry written exactly 30 years ago today by Des Marshall, the son of a Russian Jew and a Welsh coalminer’s daughter.

Marshall was born in 1941, in Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, but he suffered so badly from asthma as a child that he spent most of the first ten years of his life in an institution for sick children. He found life no less difficult as a young man in London in the 1960s, with depression rarely far away. He worked at many jobs, not least being a stand-up comedian in holiday camps; and he travelled widely, to Russia and India among other places.

The chronic depression eventually led him to Dr Peter Chadwick, a psychologist, who had suffered from schizophrenia and written very sympathetically about mental illness. Indeed, in two publications, Chadwick used Marshall as a subject of his studies. In 1994, Marshall became a Quaker, and in the same year he began to write a journal. At the time, he was living in Camden, but in February 1995 he moved to Brighton, and stayed for over two years. 

The following year, David Roberts, who runs Saxon Books, published the diary as Journal of an Urban Robinson Crusoe. ‘Dear Reader,’ Marshall says by way of introduction, ‘I want to tell you the truth about this journal. I didn’t write it. It was written by a man who called himself Urban Robinson Crusoe who, for some reason I don’t understand, happened to look very much like me.’

I came across Des Marshall and his journal while researching my book Brighton in Diaries for The History Press.  Here are several extracts from the chapter dedicated to Marshall (and two old photographs of mine, partially illustrating the ‘frivolous’ nature and ‘distractions’ mentioned by Marshall in his 21 April entry).

15 February 1995

‘I suppose I am a Brightonian now. I still wander the streets but it’s just so much more pleasant to do that here, and I see so many so-called Robinson Crusoes, who don’t realise what they have become.

Brighton is a strange town of contrasting types of people jumbled up and thrown together: the very poor, the very rich, gangsters, day-trippers, the unemployed coming down for the summer from the cities, possibly to get work for the season, students from other countries to learn English, artists, writers, street performers. Well-off show-biz people live here, and there’s a big gay scene.

Graham Greene, the writer, who lived in Brighton, called Brighton a fugitive town. There’s a sort of truth in that; people are always coming and going, just like London.

There are mad people thrown out of the asylums that they are closing down. There is a big one at Haywards Heath, half way between London and Brighton. The inmates have a choice when they leave, London or Brighton. Most opt for Brighton, for reasons I would think are obvious. Anything you want in London you can get here.’

21 April 1995

‘I believe Brighton has more disturbed people in relation to the size of the population, than any other town in the country. There’s a sort of unreality about the town. It’s too frivolous. People don’t really listen to each other. They seem very excited and distracted. It is because it’s a holiday town, with too many distractions - the sea, the beach, the pier, the pretty women (there seems so many of them here), the men on the prowl for women, the buskers, the beach cafes with their coloured sunshades and ice-cream adverts, a sense of permanent holidaying atmosphere. It distracts people, even if you live here. You get sort of sucked into the excitement and get distracted. [. . .] People wear such odd clothes that don’t really match. Could be, sort of punk, with a bit of hippy thrown in, or mohair with greatcoat, or a collar and tie man, with shorts of different colours, possibly even with a bowler hat.’

15 February 1996

‘There should be a book written on how to survive Brighton. One thing I have found out is that you don’t take it, or even the people, too seriously. That might sound like a harsh thing to say, but that is the nature of the beast. What I mean is, it’s a hello, goodbye, sort of town, tinsel town.

The people who live here, or have made their life here, probably live very varied lives, and are into all sorts of activities outside their own domesticities - things like dancing, singing, writing groups, yoga, t’ai chi, religious groups, psychology meetings, humanist groups, the state of the nation groups, psychic groups, political discussion groups, old age discussion groups, gender bender groups, gay groups, social issue groups, single people meeting groups, history of Brighton groups. [. . .]’

Easter spectacle on Brighton Beach

While Easter on Brighton Beach is remembered for the violent clashes between Mods and Rockers 60 years ago (see Saturday’s post), it should also be remembered for a much bigger and colourful spectacle - the Easter Volunteer Review. This image - The Easter Volunteers Review: A Sketch on the Brighton Beach published in the Illustrated London News on 23 April 1870 - depicts a scene from the event during Easter 155 years ago. 

The Easter Volunteer Reviews were major public military events held annually in Britain during the 19th century, particularly popular from the 1860s onwards. Originating after the formation of the Volunteer Force in 1859 - a citizen militia created in response to fears of invasion and to supplement the regular army - these reviews became a fixture of the Victorian social and military calendar.

Held most often on Easter Monday, the reviews brought together thousands of volunteer soldiers from across the country for large-scale parades, drills, and mock battles. Brighton, with its broad seafront and easy rail access, was a favoured location, frequently drawing crowds of both participants and spectators. The events were not only military exercises but also significant social occasions, attracting families, dignitaries, and local residents, as depicted in contemporary illustrations showing mingling soldiers, elegantly dressed women, and children enjoying the spectacle

The foreground of the illustration above shows volunteer soldiers in uniform, some seated and others standing, interacting with women and children dressed in typical Victorian attire. One woman holds a parasol, and several children are present, suggesting a family-friendly atmosphere. Behind, a dense crowd of spectators fills the beach and the promenade above, with people standing on steps and railings to get a better view of the event. The background includes boats and seaside structures, reinforcing the coastal setting. The overall scene is lively and crowded, reflecting the popularity of the annual military review, which was both a ceremonial occasion for the volunteer regiments and a major social event for the public.

In fact, the Illustrated London News ran two articles on the Brighton 1870 military spectacle in successive editions - both freely available to view or download at Internet Archive (issues 1590 and 1591). Here are several paragraphs from the first report (and a further illustration found in the second report): 

‘The annual Easter Monday review and sham fight of the metropolitan and home counties volunteer corps took place at Brighton, with the advantage of the finest possible weather. [. . .] As Brighton is a holiday town, where Londoners are sure to find comfortable accommodation for themselves and families, with the benefit of the sea air and sufficient opportunities of amusement, large numbers of the volunteers and their friends went down either on Saturday or Good Friday, or the previous Thursday evening, some of the corps marching by the high road from London, but most of them arriving by railway. [. . .] 

Among the officers staying at the chief hotels in the town were Lieutenant-General the Hon. Sir James Scarlett, with Lady Scarlett, and Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar, who went together, on Saturday, to examine the review ground. The Esplanade, the sea-beach, the King’s-road, the Steyne, the Pavilion Garden, the old Chain Pier and the new Western Pier, at Hove, the line of terraces in Kemp Town leading to the walk over the cliffs towards Rottingdean, the Racecourse, the Downs, and the road to the Devil’s Dyke, were much frequented by visitors in uniform, with a crowd of others - men, women, and children - who took their share of pleasure in those few days. The beach opposite the town was continually thronged; and the boatmen and the keepers of refreshment-saloons made a pretty good profit of the occasion. [ . . .]

The London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway, with excellent traffic management, conveyed down thousands upon thousands on Monday morning, the first arrival being at half past six. At ten o’clock, when the signal-gun was fired, they began to assemble on the Level, the ground adjoining the Steyne. in order to march thence to the Racecourse, where the inspection was to commence.’

Mods and Rockers clash in the 60s

Sixty years ago today, on 19 April 1965, groups of Mods and Rockers clashed on and around Brighton Beach. The event occurred during the Easter bank holiday weekend. Police were present in large numbers and intervened to disperse the youths gathering along the seafront and in the town centre. Several arrests were made and minor injuries were reported. Damage included broken shop windows.

The incident followed similar disturbances during the previous year’s May Day bank holiday in 1964. On that occasion, clashes between Mods and Rockers in Brighton resulted in multiple arrests, injuries, and damage to property. Police were deployed to manage the disorder, and several youths appeared before local magistrates in the days that followed.

Mods were typically associated with scooters, suits, and modernist fashion, while Rockers were known for motorcycles and leather jackets. The two groups were identified as youth subcultures with differing styles and music preferences. The 1964 clashes were widely reported in national newspapers, and later immortalised in Franc Roddam’s 1979 film Quadrophenia (based on The Who’s 1973 rock opera of the same name). It’s a gritty, stylish snapshot of subculture and adolescent angst, featuring music by The Who and early performances from actors like Phil Daniels, Sting and Ray Winstone. Above are four grainy stills from the film which itself can viewed freely at Internet Archive.  

ChatGPT provides this analysis: ‘By 1965, the fierce edge of the Mods and Rockers rivalry was already dulling. Mod fashion was moving toward psychedelia and the emergent counterculture, while Rockers began to look like a fading relic. Yet the 19 April disturbances showed the staying power of the myth. Even as the actual confrontations became more manageable, the cultural image of Brighton as a flashpoint for youth rebellion lingered. Indeed, the echoes of these bank holiday battles still resonate. They were not just scuffles between teenagers but symbolic episodes in a much larger story - of how Britain came to terms with its youth, its future, and its identity.’

Photographs and contemporary reports of the Brighton clashes in 1965 are not widely available. These two here (the one above copyrighted at Media Storehouse, the other at Alamy) are the only ones I can find actually dated to 19 April. However, earlier this year, The Argus published an excellent article, with many photographs, looking back to the 1964 clashes, and quoting from its own reports.

A paddle steamer and mixed bathing

 A superb collection of high quality old photographs of Brighton Beach and the seafront - from the James Gray Collection - are currently on display on the Lower Promenade near the i360. The 36 images have been chosen and reproduced by the Regency Society and will remain on show until 27 April 2025. All the panels carry their own captions and can be previewed at the Regency Society website.

In promoting the open exhibition, the Society says: ‘We continually look for ways to share the RS James Gray Collection of historical photographs with the public. This is one of the most adventurous yet. [. . .] We hope many residents and visitors will have a chance to experience these fascinating glimpses of bygone life on Brighton seafront close to their historical settings.’

Here are two of the photos from the exhibition. The caption for the one above reads: ‘The paddle-steamer The Brighton Queen at the eastern landing stage of the Palace Pier, probably in the 1930s. She was built in 1905 and was not just a pleasure steamer. She served as a minesweeper in WWI and in 1940 she was bombed and sunk at Dunkirk on her second trip to rescue British troops.’

And the caption for the one below reads: ‘A Mixed Bathing beach in Hove in 1919. Hove was slower than Brighton to allow men and women to go swimming from the same stretch of beach but by 1919 it had several Mixed Bathing areas, all strictly signposted and enormously popular.’

The Regency Society of Brighton and Hove was founded in December 1945 by a group of local historians, preservationists, and civic leaders with the aim of protecting the city’s distinctive Regency-era architecture from post-war redevelopment threats. Over the years, the Society has played a vital role in campaigning for the conservation and sensitive restoration of Brighton’s architectural heritage, becoming the city’s oldest conservation group and a key advocate for preserving its unique Regency character. 

In 1998, after the death of James Gray, an insurance broker with a passion for local history, the society acquired his extensive collection of historic black-and-white photographs, known as The James Gray Collection. The full collection comprises 7,530 annotated photographs, arranged in 39 volumes by areas of the city - all available to view online.

Cynicism over bike rack move

Earlier this week, Brighton & Hove News ran a relatively small item about Sea Lanes on Madeira Drive wanting to move an existing bike rack facility away from the pavement and onto the beach pebbles. The move is required, Sea Lanes, says because the facility’s current location immediately adjacent to the road enables thieves to quickly cut through locks and load bikes into waiting vehicles. In the new position, the bike racks would be overlooked by the reception staff.

In addition, though, Sea Lanes has requested permission to replace the pavement-side racks with a small swim retail unit. In response to this idea, several members of the public have left comments on the Brighton & Hove News website. One, for example, has suggested that the ‘small retail unit’ is the MAIN reason for the planning request. Another didn’t mince his words: ‘This reason to move the bike racks is total rubbish and ONLY about using the site for a shop.’

The planning application documents can be found online on the Council website. The proposal states: ‘Sea Lanes has now been operational for over 1.5 years and has proved very successful and is well used by both locals and visitors to the city. A large number of users, particularly swimmers, travel to Sea Lanes by bike. A user survey indicated that 38% of swimmers travel by bike. The existing bike shelter is well used; however there have been a number of issues with bike thefts from the shelter. Its location immediately adjacent to the road enables thieves to quickly cut through locks and load bikes into waiting vehicles. It is therefore proposed to move the existing bike parking shelter to the south side of the Volks railway.’

The planning document goes on to list the following benefits of the new position for the racks:

‘- It is considered more secure as it will be overlooked by the swimming pool reception and when the sauna is in operation users of the sauna.

- It is less visible for any opportunist thieves.

- Any thieves will have to move bikes from across the railway tracks to any waiting vehicle in the road. 

- It is a better location for pool users, who are the main users of the bike shelter. 

- Having a shelter in this location will be necessary when the temporary planning permission for all structures on the north side of the railway expires.’

As for the new ‘swim retail unit’, this will offer swim-related products/equipment to pool users and sea swimmers. Moreover, Sea Lanes suggests ‘a swim retail offer is fundamental to [its] vision for a National open Water Swimming Centre’.

According to Brighton & Hove News, ‘brazen bike theft is common along Madeira Drive’. In September 2023, it says, a thief broke a bike lock and rode an expensive ebike away even though he was openly being filmed by a member of the public. A subsequent appeal failed to track him down. Then, in 2024, a serial bike thief was jailed for a year after being caught on CCTV cutting locks of bikes, including one he stole from Sea Lanes.

Nevertheless, some of those who left comments on the news article were heavily cynical of the planning application. 

J T offered this: ‘I’m pretty sure “give us a shop or your bikes will get stolen” is like some kind of blackmail but here we are.’

Hove Actually was more direct: ‘Bike thieves are notoriously men/boys who WALK up and have the lock off in seconds who then cycle away. This reason to move the bike racks is total rubbish and ONLY about using the site for a shop.’

And Dion Nutley’s comment took aim at ‘bike snobs’ in general: ‘If your bike’s re-sale value is over £100, it will get stolen no matter where you leave it locked up in Brighton. Only a complete and utter cretin will leave an expensive bike locked to a bike rack.. but that’s what the “bike snobs” do… “look at me on my expensive bike and look at you on your lump of crap”… then next week they are whining that it’s stolen while you’re still mobile on your unstolen “lump of crap”.

Night time tragedy at sea

In the early hours of this morning, the RNLI Brighton crew launched to reports of a person in the water near Brighton Palace Pier. In a post on X, the RNLI said it worked alongside Shoreham RNLI, Coastguard Rescue Teams, a helicopter, and other emergency services. Later, Sussex Police announced that a woman, in her 20s and from Lewes, was taken to hospital where she was sadly pronounced deceased. The police confirmed that there were no suspicious circumstances and that this will now be a matter for the coroner.

The tragic news was reported early in the morning by both The Argus and by BBC Sussex. The Argus, in particular, published flight tracking data gathered from ADS-B Exchange (which calls itself the world’s largest source of unfiltered flight data). This shows the path of the coastguard search and rescue helicopter (which began at around 4am before landing on the beach shortly after 6am). The colour of the aeroplane/helicopter icons and/or their trails indicate the aircrafts’ altitudes.

In 2024, at least two people were confirmed to have died on or in the water near Brighton Beach. On 3 September the body of a 53-year-old man from Portslade was found washed up on the beach at Western Esplanade, Hove. On 25 November 2024, a 43-year-old man died after being rescued from the sea off the coast of Hove during Storm Bert. He was taken to hospital but later died. See also 10 years on, remembering Dan and Freddie.

‘Awesome campaign!! #skincare’

Brighton Beach didn’t quite know what hit it on Sunday! The sun was out, the promenades were abustle, and the beach was busy too. But what’s this, a young man in sun-drenched dungarees thrusting a flimsy newspaper into my hands, and four sachets! In large bright letters, I read: ‘Breaking news: The UK’s No. 1 vitamin C serum just got better & better.’

My first and rather cynical thought was how can something, anything, be both getting better and better (which implies something happening over time), and be breaking news (something happening in the moment).

What exactly is a serum, was my next thought. Admittedly, I’m an aging human, and male, so perhaps I’ve missed something. Is it a face cream, a sun cream, a youth elixir? Here’s a dictionary definition of serum: ‘An amber-coloured, protein-rich liquid which separates out when blood coagulates’. Oh! That doesn’t sound very nice. Why would I want that?

I should read the newspaper, I thought (which is called The Brighter News). Here we go: ‘C the Bright Side. Garnier’s Vitamin C Brightening Serum may just be the ray of sunshine you’ve been looking for.’ So, it’s not just a serum but a ‘brightening serum’. But what is that? I need to read more from The Brighter News: ‘Its lightweight non-sticky fast-absorbed formula is clinically proven to reduce hyperpigmentation in 2 weeks. The benefits of Vitamin C are clinically proven. It helps brighten skin and reduce the appearance of hyperpigmentation. 99% of women tested agree their skin was left glowing.’ Wow, that’s a great stat, but not for me, a mere man.

Turning to the inside of the newsletter, I read that to celebrate this ‘breaking news’ (i.e. that the UK’s No. 1 vitamin C serum just got better & better), Garnier employees ran from Dull in Scotland to Bright(on) on the south coast telling ‘everyone along the way’ and handing out 250,000 Garnier sachets. Online, in the socials, I find a post by savannahsachdev, one of the runners, who found the while experience ‘awesome’.

Finally, in case you are thinking that Garnier’s Brightening Serum may be all you need for a happy and long life, I hate to disappoint you. Elsewhere in The Brighter News is a recommended daily brightening routine. This involves five stages, and five Garnier products. Vitamin C Micellar Water; Vitamin C Brightening Liquid Care; Vitamin C Brightening Serum; Vitamin C Brightening Eye Cream; and SPF. Good luck,

Curfew ends prom parade

‘The 10:30 p.m curfew is most effective along the front. Last night between 10:30 and 11 o’clock I counted two naval officers, one private, one mother and son, and a white bull terrier. That was all. The night porter at my hotel ruefully told me that last year there were 152 people staying at this hotel. Yesterday there were 12. In peace time, he said, even at Easter, there would have been 400 or 500 couples sleeping on the beach near the Palace Pier.’ This is from an article in the Daily Mail by Charles Graves published on this day in 1941. Graves, a London based reporter, ran a regular column during the war years (inc. during the Blitz) called I See Life, mostly about life in the city, but occasionally he travelled further afield. 

A very interesting and largely forgotten writer, Graves was born in London in 1899, son of the Anglo-Irish poet and songwriter Alfred Perceval Graves. One of his brothers, a literary writer, Robert, would become famous, notably for The White Goddess. Charles was educated at Charterhouse, and then joined the Royal Fusiliers but was still in training at the time of the WWI Armistice. He studied at St John’s College, Oxford University, and joined the staff of the Evening News as a reporter. Soon he was also the paper’s theatre critic, a line of work that enabled him to engage with London’s high society. He moved on, to the Sunday Express, where he worked variously as columnist, news editor and feature writer. In 1927, he switched again, this time to be a columnist with the Daily Mail.

During WW2, he continued to write for the paper but also to socialise - he was out at restaurants and the theatre whenever possible. He was an active participant in the Home Guard, and he wrote and read propaganda scripts for the BBC. In addition, he spent time at RAF bases and with RAF personnel so as to write novels - such as The Thin Blue Line and The Avengers - promoting the armed services.

Among Graves’ many books (more than 50) are four diaries from the war years. They are of particular interest because they include much detail about Graves’ Home Guard activities. Personal writing about the Home Guard was specifically made illegal (for security reasons). In 2011, Viking published a book called The Real ‘Dad’s Army’ - The War Diaries of Lt.Col. Rodney Foster with great fanfare claiming it was the first such Home Guard diary to be published. But the long-since forgotten diaries by Charles Graves should claim that distinction.

Here, though, after a trip to Brighton, is the piece Graves published in his I See Life column on 14 April 1941. (Photo credits: National Portrait Gallery website, and a screenshot of an I See Life piece from Alamy Images.)

Curfew Ends Prom Parade

‘This has been a strange weekend for Brighton. Never since the days of the Regency have there been so few visitors. The ban on Brighton as a pleasure resort, together with the 10:30 p.m. curfew, has had marked results.

It is true that when I entered the town on Thursday nobody asked me for any pass. 

On the other hand, I was twice stopped when in a motor-coach on Friday and Saturday by policemen who asked for my identity cards and response for being in the neighbourhood.

On the second occasion I was returning to Brighton from Lewes and the sergeant informed me that if had not possessed valid reasons (in writing) for my presence I would have been taken off the motor-coach, sent back to Lewes, and returned in disgrace to London - with my suit-case still in Brighton.

The 10:30 p.m curfew is most effective along the front. Last night between 10:30 and 11 o’clock I counted two naval officers, one private, one mother and son, and a white bull terrier. That was all. The night porter at my hotel ruefully told me that last year there were 152 people staying at this hotel. Yesterday there were 12. In peace time, he said, even at Easter, there would have been 400 or 500 couples sleeping on the beach near the Palace Pier.

Another effect of the ban is that the enterprise of the touts for the motor-coach rides is accentuated. They all tell you pleadingly that their particular excursion goes through far the loveliest scenery of Sussex, and that though the price of 3s, it is worth every penny of 4s or even more.’

The paths we walk today

It’s the closing day for an art exhibition entitled Matriarchs at the Fishing Quarter Gallery in which seven artists have come together to exhibit on the seafront. There is not much information on display about the artists but a brief rational for the exhibition can be found on the wall, as follows.

‘Through installation, photography, sculpture, drawing, and print, the works on display delve into the profound and lasting impact that matriarchs have on us as individuals, families, and our wider communities. The works examine how these central figures develop familial cultures, pass down stories, and impart wisdom. With each piece, the artists invite us to reflect on the core relationships that sustain us, shaping our histories and the paths we walk today. From the quiet moments of everyday life to the deep rituals of connection, the exhibition underscores the far-reaching influence of matriarchs, offering a space to honour and celebrate their legacies.’

There are several pieces by Reem Acason. She describes herself as ‘a multi-disciplinary artist whose work explores the complexities of cross-cultural identity’. This photograph of one Acason’s pieces includes: Bedtime (2025), ‘Oil and gesso on 1980’s duvet cover fragment’; Signs of Life VIII (2025), ‘Vintage crate, oyster shells, wild Sussex clay’; and Signs of Life II (2024), ‘Found bird’s nest, paperclay’.

‘I am interested, Acason says on her website, ‘in the relationship between the Middle Eastern region and Europe, and their respective intertwined social and cultural histories. I take inspiration from historic European portraiture, as well as motifs and symbols (both real and imagined) from the “Oriental” world.’

If you missed the exhibition here are the artists online.

@vix_koch
@devon_mcculloch_illustration
@debbieantonowicz]
@mindyheidi
@bethlucygibbons
@ellachandlerstudio
@reemacason

200 black body bags

Ten years ago this month, some 200 black body bags were lined up on Brighton Beach, just east of Palace Pier, in a haunting performance staged by Amnesty International to highlight Britain’s ‘shameful’ response to the escalating migrant crisis in the Mediterranean. The protest came in the wake of a devastating shipwreck off the coast of Libya, where approximately 800 migrants lost their lives. Both The Guardian and the BBC covered the stunt at the time. And Amnesty International, itself, has now revisited the issue with a press release looking at progress made in saving lives in the Med. Nevertheless, according to the International Maritime Organisation more than 30,000 migrants have gone missing in the Mediterranean since 2014!

This photograph was published in The Guardian with credit to Tom Pugh/PA; and the photograph below it comes from the Amnesty website.

Back in April 2015, Amnesty supporters not only arranged the 200 body bags in rows but also zipped themselves into some of them, symbolising solidarity with the deceased. A funeral wreath was placed among the bags, and a banner reading #DontLetThemDrown was displayed prominently.​ Amnesty’s UK director, Kate Allen, was quoted as saying: ‘Until now, the British government’s response has been shameful but finally foreign ministers seem to be waking up to the need to act. EU governments must now urgently turn their rhetoric into action to stop more people drowning on their way to Europe.’

The demonstration was timed to coincide with emergency EU talks addressing the migrant crisis. Amnesty International criticised the UK government’s decision to scale back search and rescue operations in the Mediterranean, arguing that such actions contributed to the increasing death toll. The organisation called for a more compassionate and proactive approach to the humanitarian disaster unfolding at Europe’s borders.​

In a statement issued on 1 April 2025, Amnesty revisited its campaign starting with the body bags stunt, and drew attention to the UK’s deployment of HMS Bulwark, which has rescued over 4,000 people. Amnesty, it says, is advocating for ‘safe and legal routes for asylum-seekers, fair responsibility-sharing among European countries, and increased resettlement places to address the wider issues causing these deaths’.

The UK, of course, has been grappling with a surge in small boat crossings across the English Channel. As of April 2025, over 7,200 migrants have arrived via this perilous route, marking a 31% increase from the previous year (though there are hardly any recorded instances of landings on Brighton Beach).

The Turquoise Basket Star

In the twilight world between Brighton’s pebbles and the sea, where the water folds its breath in whispers, there lived a creature of delicate chaos - Gorgonocephalus turquoise. The Turquoise Basket Star.  [With thanks to ChatGPT, and apologies to Jacques Cousteau.]

On our recent trip to Britain’s south coast, we first encountered her beneath the soft veil of the outgoing tide, tangled like a myth among the roots of drifting weed and net remnants. To the untrained eye, she looked no different from debris, a tangle of line left by careless hands. But ah, when she moved. . . 

In the quiet nights, she would unfurl her arms like the lace of a deep-sea dancer, catching plankton on the wing, filtering the moonlight for flavour. Each limb, a miracle of evolution, split and split again - five arms becoming fifty, weaving an invisible net of hunger and grace.

By day, she curled into herself, hiding among rocks and kelp along the Marina sea wall, a recluse of the reef. The turquoise hue was not a warning, not a cry for attention, but the hue of calm itself - like ancient glacial melt or the eyes of a dreaming dolphin. In that colour lived serenity, and in her slow movements, patience.

She did not swim. She did not chase. She waited. The current was her companion. The tide, her twin.

But life near the shore is not so simple. Ropes come drifting in with their own stories. Some are pulled by boats. Some are abandoned by men who no longer remember the creatures they might ensnare. One day, the rope came for her. It embraced her not as a fellow tendril, but as a noose.

She did not struggle. She only curled tighter, as if tucking herself into a last sleep.

And there she remains now, on the low tide sands of Brighton Beach. Not gone, not forgotten. Her arms, still flung wide, hold a memory of the sea. A tale of gentleness. Of hunger fed only on light.

She reminds us that in the tangled ruins of our world, there still lies beauty. And in every knot of line, there may once have been a life as delicate as breath itself.

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever. Adieu!

 

Brighton waves, Brighton raves!

A sea of enthusiasm for BrightonBeach365

100th post, 265 to go!

Fish and chips or moules marinières

‘We promise you won’t find a better view on the South Coast.’ So boasts the Palm Court restaurant, on Brighton’s Palace Pier, which also calls itself ‘The home of the Big Fish’. Have you eaten there? Famously top notch fish and chips are available (the fish is hand cut), as are moules marinières.

It seems unclear exactly when the Palm Court opened for business. However, it stands where once stood the famous Concert Hall, and so, presumably, it was installed as part of the late-1980s transformation (following the dismantling of the theatre). 

Subsequently, in 2018, the Palm Court underwent a significant refurbishment. Out went the darker, old-world styling; in came sea-glass tones, elegant booths, a sleek central island bar, and vast windows offering diners an unbroken view of the channel. Part of the seating area, apparently, was fashioned from a preserved bandstand, giving patrons the feeling of dining inside a Victorian music box (with the sound of gulls for accompaniment). The redesign also incorporated a copper installation inspired by starling murmurations.

Over the years, celebrity endorsements have kept the restaurant in the public eye. According to the pier’s website, Heston Blumenthal (famous chef) declared that Brighton Pier is the ‘Spiritual home of fish and chips’ whilst on a trip to film a one-off special documentary called Heston’s Fishy Feasts. 

The local newspaper, the Argus, reported in 2019 that Brighton crime writer Peter James chose the Palm Court to launch his novel Dead At First Sight. At the same time he announced that his detective Roy Grace would be featuring in a new series of TV dramas. Guests at the event included fellow crime writer Martina Cole, Brighton and Hove Mayor Dee Simson and Sussex Police and Crime Commissioner Katy Bourne! And then, in March 2022, the Argus told us ‘the one and only’ pop star Chesney Hawkes and son Casey had ‘stopped off’ at the Palm Court for, what else, fish and chips.

While disputing the idea that I couldn’t find a better view on the South Coast, I’ll allow the restaurant a few final words of self-promotion: ‘Expertly blending seaside tradition with contemporary style, Palm Court serves up British classics, seafood favourites, super fresh salads and vegan specials, focussing on the tastiest ingredients and exceptional customer service. Famous for our fish & chips, each fillet we serve is hand-cut in house, coated in our delicious batter and cooked to crispy perfection, whilst our equally popular Moules Marinières deliver full-on flavour of the sea, French-style.’