Not a whopper in sight

Walk Brighton Beach often enough and a pattern emerges: miles of shingle, a working sea, and yet almost no sign of shore anglers at any hour of the year. This absence is striking not because fishermen avoid crowds - they always have - but because even in winter, at night, or on raw, empty mornings when the beach belongs only to dogs and weather, rods remain rare. The explanation lies less in human activity than in the character of the beach itself: a steep, exposed shingle shelf fronting an open Channel, offering little reason for fish to linger close in, and even less incentive for anglers to wait unless conditions are exactly right.

Brighton’s shoreline is dominated by a steep shingle shelf with shifting sand and shingle underfoot. Unlike classic surf beaches where fish school close to a recognisable break, the seabed just offshore in Brighton rarely provides stable structure or cover. That makes it less attractive to fish in daylight or calm conditions, and unless predators find food close in they tend to stay further out. The water can also appear deceptively shallow near the pebbles, leading many casual observers to assume an absence, when in fact deeper water lies just a few casts out.

Another big factor is visibility and timing. Most species - bass, plaice, whiting and others known from Brighton’s coast - are more active at dawn, dusk and night, and on solunar and tidal patterns. Local reports also show that reports from social or public forums are sparse - not because nothing is caught, but because many sessions result in blanks or modest catches and aren’t widely shared online. Even when catches do happen, they’re often subtle flatfish or small bass in the fading light, not the dramatised hook-and-battle many pictures and social posts favour. 

Contrast this with more visible fishing marks in the area, such as Brighton Marina’s sea walls, where deeper water, structure and bait concentrations attract more anglers and more reported catches. Apps like Fishbrain show a steady tally of bass, plaice and mackerel from the marina compared with the main beach.

Sporty sporty Hove

The long stretch of Brighton Beach west of the King Alfred Leisure Centre has undergone a huge transformation this year - into what might best be described as sporty sporty Hove. Where this part of the seafront was once defined by open grass, informal play and the slow rituals of bowls and croquet, it is now marked by a dense cluster of formal sports facilities laid out in sequence between the promenade and the sea.

New padel courts have been completed, their bright surfaces and tall perimeter fencing marking a fixed, competitive presence on the beachside. Adjacent, a set of tennis courts has been laid out and is already in use, extending opportunities for racket sport at scale. Moreover, purpose-built beach volleyball courts have been installed and are drawing regular play, further reinforcing a trend toward formalised sporting activity on what was once largely informal terrain.

These additions sit alongside the longstanding croquet lawn and a few traditional green bowls facilities that remain in place. However, the croquet and bowls areas, still carefully maintained and signed, now form part of the broader sequence of structured recreation.

The expansion of sport along this western end resonates with developments noted further toward the lagoon, where watersports culture has been gaining momentum. Windsurfing, paddleboarding and other lagoon activities have drawn new users to the Hove shore, reinforcing a shift in how the coast is used: not just for walking or passive viewing, but for sustained physical engagement.

Taken together, the new courts and the increased watersports activity paint a coherent picture of Brighton Beach as a multi-faceted sporting landscape. From the padel and tennis courts immediately west of the King Alfred, along to the sands and open water at the lagoon, organised sport now chains these spaces in a way that is bringing a new character to the Hove end of Brighton Beach - an increasingly active seafront where fixed facilities and waterborne pursuits bookend a continuous corridor of play.

See also: Sand between their toes; Hove Beach Park opens; Not the Mary Clarke Park; Hove Lagoon watersports.

Hove Lagoon watersports

On a bright salt-washed morning the blue clubhouse of Lagoon Watersports beside Hove Lagoon looks almost theatrical, its white lettering impelling passers-by to learn, improve, progress. The building, raised slightly above the path and fronted by a tangle of kayaks, Pico dinghies and wakeboard gear, has become one of the most recognisable structures on the Brighton Beach seafront. What began as a modest watersports base more than thirty years ago is now woven into the daily life of the lagoon and the lives of thousands who first stood on a paddleboard, hauled a sail upright or felt the sudden tug of a wake-cable here.

Lagoon Watersports was formally incorporated in 1989 and has been run by the same management since the mid-1990s. Its chosen setting, Hove Lagoon, is an artificial remnant of the old Salt Daisy Lake, a brackish hollow that was gradually formalised during interwar landscaping of the Kingsway (see Brighton Toy Museum website which is also the source of the photograph below). The company turned this shallow, wind-swept waterbody into a training ground for beginners, school groups and would-be sailors. Over the years its programmes expanded across two sites - sheltered lessons and wakeboarding at the lagoon, and yacht sailing and power-boat sessions from Brighton Marina.

The lagoon has regularly thrown Lagoon Watersports into the local press. When the first cable-tow wakeboarding system went live in 2011 it drew a flurry of interest as one of the earliest installations of its type in the UK. By 2013 the centre was running three cables, including a beginner line and a rail section that drew riders from across the region. Newspapers ran bright, summery photographs of young wakeboarders skimming across the lagoon, a striking contrast to the placid model-yacht scene once associated with the site.

There have been quirkier stories too. One Argus report captured the arrival of paddleboard yoga on the lagoon, describing early sessions wobbling across the water. Another covered a women’s watersports day that saw first-timers taking to kayaks and paddleboards in breezy conditions, relishing the sense of achievement even when the wind and chop made the lagoon feel more like open sea. These sat alongside the regular run of charity challenges on icy January mornings, youth groups completing multi-sport days in howling south-westerlies, and the occasional windsurfer being blown clean across the lagoon and into the reeds, to the delight of watching schoolchildren.

The company’s daily rhythm sees staff usher in wetsuited school groups, kayaks carried to the slipway in lines, and the wake-cable’s soft mechanical hum drifting across the water whenever conditions are calm. The blue clubhouse stands at the heart of it all, part workshop, part briefing room, part symbol of Brighton and Hove’s multivarious beach culture.

Prof. Powsey’s West Pier feats

At the height of the Edwardian seaside boom, few spectacles drew a crowd like the high dives of ‘Professor’ Powsey. From a spindly wooden tower on Brighton’s West Pier he hurled himself into the Channel from 80 feet up, sometimes head first, sometimes astride a bicycle. His name appeared on countless postcards, his performances billed as ‘Professor Powsey’s Sensational High Dive of 81 feet’ or ‘The Great Cycle Dive’.

The most widespread image of his act shows him riding off a platform above the West Pier, still in the saddle. But other, less common photographs do still exist - such as the two on the left above that passed through Toovey’s auctioneers at one time or another.

Powsey’s Brighton Beach performances took place around 1905-08, part of a circuit of seaside stunts that included Margate, Blackpool and Scarborough. Yet Brighton became his signature setting. On clear afternoons he climbed the narrow frame above the pier, waved to the crowd, and dropped into a small patch of sea fenced off by boats. These were feats as much of nerve as of balance, undertaken in unpredictable tides and wind.

The diving tradition continued with his daughter, Miss G. Powsey, who performed on the same pier a few years later. A postcard from the Royal Pavilion & Museums collection shows her captured in mid-dive before the domed concert hall, continuing the family’s blend of danger and elegance that had thrilled the seaside crowds. See also Powsey Family History.

Picture credits: Top left - Toovey’s; top right - Wikipedia; bottom left - Toovey’s; bottom right - Royal Pavilion & Museums, Brighton & Hove.

The veteran run to Brighton

At sunrise this morning, more than 400 pre-1905 motor cars were scheduled to set off from Hyde Park for the 98th London to Brighton Veteran Car Run, the world’s longest-running motoring event. The run commemorates the original ‘Emancipation Run’ of 14 November 1896, which celebrated the passing of the Locomotives on Highways Act. That law raised the speed limit for light locomotives from four to fourteen miles per hour and abolished the requirement for a man with a red flag to walk ahead of every vehicle.

Organised by the Royal Automobile Club, this year’s event covered a route of about sixty miles, following the traditional course from London through Croydon, Redhill, Crawley and Burgess Hill before descending into Brighton. It is not a race: the event is open only to vehicles built before 1905, and every entrant who crosses the finish line within daylight is considered a victor. The finishing stretch took the cars directly onto the Brighton seafront, Madeira Drive once again serving as the ceremonial end-point. 

The run’s tradition of finishing on Madeira Drive dates back to the early 1900s, when the event was revived after the First World War. Over the decades it has only rarely been interrupted - by fuel shortages, war, and once by the pandemic. This year’s run also honoured the 125th anniversary of the Royal Automobile Club’s 1000-Mile Trial of 1900, another milestone in the story of early motoring. 

This morning’s first arrival on Madeira Drive was vehicle number 046, a 1900 Renaux tricycle driven by Clive Pettit (picture at top). The lightweight three-wheeler crossed the finish line just before 11 a.m., its simple design and reliability giving it an early advantage on the 60-mile run. The second vehicle and the first four-wheeled car to reach the seafront was number 018, an 1898 Stephens dogcart (pictured above), which rolled in at exactly 11 - later than usual, possibly because of early morning bad weather.

The run has acquired its own folklore. Many entrants and passengers dress in Edwardian costume; breakdowns are frequent and often met with good humour and clouds of steam; and the sound of sputtering engines and brass horns evokes the infancy of motoring. The 1953 film Genevieve (see film still) has immortalised the event’s charm and chaos, and even today the scene of creaking, smoke-puffing machines rolling into Brighton beneath the cliffs of Madeira Drive retains something of that cinematic magic. 

Among the machines entered in this year’s London to Brighton Veteran Car Run are: 

- an 1894 Benz, a single-cylinder 1.5 horsepower pioneer from Germany driven by Hermann Layher, its exposed brass fittings and carriage-style tiller steering embodying the dawn of motoring; 

- an 1898 Léon Bollée, the elegant French tricar whose sloping body and chain drive reflecte the ingenuity of fin-de-siècle engineering;

- the British Motor Museum’s 1899 Wolseley, one of the earliest four-wheelers designed by Herbert Austin;

- a newly restored Opel Darracq making its debut, representing a rare Franco-German collaboration from the earliest years of the automobile.

Brighton Swimming Club

On 4 May 1860 a handful of regular sea-bathers met at the Jolly Fisherman in Market Street and founded Brighton Swimming Club, today recognised as the country’s oldest continuously running swimming club. The pioneers had been bathing from the beach near the Lion Mansions on Grand Junction Parade in the late 1850s; by formalising their group they introduced subscriptions, rules and early safety practices to what had been an informal pastime. Founder members included George Brown and the celebrated one-legged swimmer and lifesaver John Henry Camp, whose motto, ‘I dare the waves a life to save’, reflected the club’s public-spirited character.

Through the 1860s and 1870s the club became a fixture of Brighton’s seafront life. Its members staged crowd-pleasing aquatic displays off the West Pier, including the much-reported raft ‘tea parties’, and they helped normalise sea swimming as recreation rather than therapy. Photographers recorded the swimmers’ culture, from informal 1860s beach portraits in drawers and top hats to later team images outside the club’s King’s Road Arches headquarters, where the address numbers changed over time as the seafront was renumbered. Membership grew rapidly from a dozen to several dozen within three years, mirroring Brighton’s boom as a resort.

By the early 1910s Brighton’s enthusiasm for sea swimming had become fully institutionalised. The Palace Pier built a £6,000 bathing station on piles of greenheart oak, complete with curtained changing cabins, rafts and spectator seating. When the new facility opened in June 1913, the Brighton Herald reported that the Brighton Swimming Club had been granted its own private quarters beneath the pier, ‘handsomely equipped’ and inaugurated with a special fête. Members staged diving and ornamental swimming displays, with prizes for fancy diving and a 65-foot high dive by the visiting champion Professor Oscar Dickman of Australia. The paper called it ‘one of the most attractive swimming resorts ever seen in Brighton’, a mark of how far the club had evolved from an informal gathering of hardy bathers to a centrepiece of civic leisure.

Traditions established in the Victorian period proved remarkably durable. The club’s Christmas Day swim is documented back to the 1880s and became a hardy local ritual, interrupted only by beach closures in wartime. From the later 19th century, as public baths opened, the club broadened beyond salt water to embrace pool training and competition, while still maintaining its daily sea section. Water polo, diving and what would become artistic swimming all found a home in the club’s expanding programme. Women’s swimming developed alongside, with a separate Brighton Ladies Swimming Club founded on 2 December 1891; that organisation evolved into today’s Brighton Dolphin SC. By the early 20th century mixed bathing had become acceptable in Brighton, but the distinct women’s club shows how the city nurtured female swimmers on their own terms as participation widened.

The inter-war years added a signature race to the calendar. In 1936 Brighton Corporation donated a trophy for an annual West Pier to Palace Pier swim, and the ‘Pier to Pier’ became a midsummer highlight. Competitors once dived from the West Pier itself; since that pier’s closure the start moved to the adjacent beach. Apart from wartime and occasional rough-sea cancellations, the race has run ever since, drawing Olympians, Channel swimmers and club stalwarts to cover roughly a kilometre along the front.

War brought the only sustained break in the club’s daily sea routine, when beaches were mined and barred. Peace restored the rhythms of early-morning swims, competitions and community service, with club volunteers continuing the long tradition of watchfulness on a lively, sometimes treacherous shore. In the 21st century the surge of interest in open-water swimming put Brighton’s oldest sporting institution back at the centre of a national trend, while heritage work under the ‘Floating Memories’ banner secured and interpreted archives stretching to the club’s first minute books.

Today, the club’s sea-swimming section operates from its long-established base, The Arch, on the lower promenade east of Palace Pier. Open every day of the year, it provides showers, changing space and board storage for members who swim daily in all seasons. Annual membership begins each April, with fees covering upkeep of the seafront facilities; when capacity is reached a waiting list applies. The section’s swimmers range from casual dippers to long-distance enthusiasts, many training for events such as the Pier to Pier race or Channel crossings. Despite the expansion of pool-based squads and other disciplines, the daily ritual of entering the sea from the club’s Arch headquarters remains the institution’s core tradition and the living link to its 1860 origins.

See also Sussex Women bathing allowed! and Photo History for more detail and photographs (inc the sepia image above).

The ball’s still in the air

Here is the 18th of 24 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. A lively soccer match is underway. In the foreground, a large black-and-white football dominates; to the right, the leg and foot of a player in blue shorts and striped socks is shown in motion, suggesting a kick. Behind the ball and player, a crowd of supporters fills the background, represented in bright blocks of colour - yellow, red, blue, green, and brown - with raised arms and cheering stances, creating the sense of excitement in a stadium atmosphere. The overall style is bold and simplified, with clear outlines and vivid colours.

A limerick starter

A striker with socks blue and white, 

Kicked a ball with incredible might. 

The crowd gave a roar, 

As it sailed to the score, 

And victory gleamed in the light.

The ball’s still in the air (with apologies to Nick Hornby) 

I was standing on Brighton Beach, staring up at this stained-glass window in one of those seafront cafés, the kind that smells of chip fat even after it’s closed. It showed a football frozen in mid-flight, with a crowd behind it looking like they’d just seen God, or at least Peter Ward in his prime. The socks on the kicker were the clincher: blue and white hoops, the Seagulls’ stripes.

And suddenly I was back there, twelve years old, thinking Brighton & Hove Albion were going to change my life. Dad took me to the Goldstone Ground and I saw Gerry Ryan run down the wing like he’d been shot out of a cannon. That was it. I was hooked for good. But football - especially Brighton football - is like the sea here: it looks glorious when the sun’s on it, but most of the time it just drags you under and leaves you coughing up salt.

On the beach that morning, you could almost hear the echoes of promotion parties and relegation heartbreak. I’d been through them all, right down to the protests when we nearly lost the club. We stood outside with banners, shouting until our throats cracked, while inside men in suits plotted how to flog the ground for a Sainsbury’s. It felt hopeless. And yet here we still are, with a stadium on the edge of town, European nights, a place at the grown-ups’ table.

Looking back at that window, I realised why it hit me so hard. The crowd in the glass isn’t celebrating a goal. They’re waiting. The ball’s still in the air, and anything could happen: joy, despair, a dodgy referee’s whistle. It’s Brighton Beach in a nutshell. You sit on the shingle, you watch the horizon, and you think: maybe today the tide turns. Or maybe it just keeps rolling in and out, same as ever.

I finished my tea, wiped the crumbs from my lap, and thought about the next game. It’s ridiculous, really, this endless faith in a team, like waiting for a miracle on a beach that’s seen more storms than summers. But if you’re a Seagull, you don’t stop flying. You can’t.

Yoga, breath, and spines aligned

For those who like their yoga al fresco, Brighton’s beach offers a mix of weekly classes and one-off events along the seafront, from Hove Lawns to east of Brighton Pier. Local operators list regular outdoor sessions during fair weather, typically switching indoors or cancelling when wind and rain close in. One provider’s current schedule shows Monday morning flows on the pebbles behind the Meeting Point Café, a Thursday evening session on Hove Lawns opposite Brunswick Square, and additional park or seafront slots mid-week. A separate sunrise strand runs weekly through the summer at Rockwater in Hove, with a fallback to the indoor lodge if conditions turn. 

The city’s volunteer-led scene also includes an annual ‘Yoga on the Beach’ day beside the i360, featuring back-to-back classes from local teachers and suggested-donation pricing to raise funds for community wellbeing projects. Tourism listings continue to flag beach and outdoor yoga as a Brighton staple, and commercial platforms are advertising 2025 dates and times, suggesting steady demand for sea-air sessions as autumn sets in. See Brighton Yoga, Studio iO, Brighton Natural Health Foundation; and here’s a ditty to pass the time, by ChatGPT.

Yoga on the pebbles

On Brighton’s stones, the mats are spread,
A stretch of spines, a lift of head.
Gulls keep off - know the score,
Those spiky fences guard this shore.

The pebbles jab, but none complain,
They breathe it out, release the pain.
The sea rolls in with measured tone,
A metronome of waves on stone.

Cobra rises, shoulders tall,
A chorus line along the wall.
The water bottles gleam in rows,
As steadfast as the students’ pose.

The sea rolls in, a patient guide,
It hums its mantra, tide by tide.
So Brighton’s beach becomes a shrine,
For yoga, breath, and spines aligned.

Happy birthday Steve Ovett

Happy 70th birthday Steve Ovett. Born in Brighton on 9 October 1955, he was raised in Portslade and educated at Mile Oak School. He joined Brighton & Hove AC as a boy and trained regularly in Preston Park, but he switched to focus on athletics in his teens. By the age of 18 he was winning 800m medals at the  European level. Over the next decade he became one of the greatest names in athletics.

Ovett’s rivalry with Sebastian Coe defined British sport in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Coe was the meticulous planner, Ovett the instinctive competitor, but both set world records and pushed each other to the limits. Ovett won Olympic 800m gold in Moscow in 1980 and bronze in the 1500m, while Coe claimed the 1500m title. Between them they took the mile world record back and forth, Ovett’s best being 3:48.40 in Oslo in 1981. He also set records at 1500m and two miles, and won European and Commonwealth titles. His strong finish, upright style and ability to win from almost any position earned him a reputation as one of the sport’s most natural talents.

After retiring in 1991, Ovett moved abroad, living for long periods in Australia and Canada, but he continued to return to Brighton, where his reputation remained strong. He later worked in athletics commentary and coaching. In 2012 he was awarded the Freedom of the City of Brighton & Hove, a civic honour that underlined the pride his home city still takes in his achievements.

Brighton’s tribute came first with a bronze statue by Peter Webster unveiled in Preston Park on 31 May 1987. However in September 2007 the work was stolen, cut from its plinth at the ankle; police later recovered a leg and some fragments, but most was lost, leaving only the foot. That foot remains mounted in Preston Park as a curiosity for visitors. Webster produced a replacement statue, unveiled on 24 July 2012 on Madeira Drive near the Palace Pier, where it still stands today - see ArtUK and the BBC. Ovett himself attended the events around the unveiling, which also marked his Freedom of the City. The seafront figure has since become a landmark for runners and visitors alike.

Women bathing allowed!

On this weekend in 1896, The Illustrated London News reported ‘the opening of the bathing from the end of Brighton pier to swimmers of our sex.’ It marked a milestone in women’s freedom on the English coast, and the article added a heartfelt plea for more facilities for female swimmers across the country.

‘A delightful piece of news for all whose it may concern,’ the paper declared, ‘is the opening of the bathing from the end of the Brighton pier to swimmers of our sex. The pleasure of diving into fifty feet of water needs to be felt to be understood. It is good to see that there are plenty of women able to take advantage of the concession: daily, up till ten o’clock, the cabins are in constant demand, and it has become a popular amusement for visitors to go to watch ten or a dozen ladies swimming about with perfect freedom and strength of limb.’

Until the 1890s, women at Brighton had been confined largely to bathing machines and segregated areas of beach, often under strict supervision. Mixed bathing was still controversial, and even when ladies’ clubs existed, they often lacked proper facilities. Brighton Swimming Club, founded in 1860, did not admit women until 1891, and then only to a separate ‘Ladies’ Section’ that swam under rules of modesty and restricted hours. The ILN article describes how remarkable it was that women could now dive from the pier-head into deep water, a privilege long taken for granted by men.

The article went on to say:‘For poor girls, facilities for learning to swim in large towns are still imperfect as compared to those open to boys. With a little cost and trouble, provision might be made for women swimming in the lakes of our public parks, as men and boys do. Even those who live near rate-supported baths find that these are only open to girls at low prices for two or three hours a week, whereas boys can bathe for twopence or threepence at any time. Brighton may lead on to reforms for the masses in this matter.’

Nationally, the paper’s plea was well judged. In London and other large towns, campaigners argued that swimming was not just recreation but healthful exercise and even a lifesaving skill that every girl should be allowed to learn. The Brighton initiative, reported approvingly in 1896, was taken as a model that might encourage reform elsewhere.

Brighton would later become home to champion women swimmers such as Hilda James and Mercedes Gleitze in the early 20th century, but the scene described that September - ten or twelve women ‘swimming about with perfect freedom’ under the gaze of visitors - was a small revolution in itself.

NB: I have used two images to illustrate this piece but neither are directly related to the text about bathing from the pier. The Illustrated London News cover pre-dates by a year the edition used as a source for this story. Moreover, the famous image - Mermaids at Brighton - by William Heath, c. 1829, predates it by 70 years. 

Sussex Diving Club

September is when Sussex Diving Club begins its autumn training cycle - a handy peg to look back at nearly half a century of local scuba. The club was founded in 1979 as BSAC Branch 1016 and today counts roughly fifty active members who split their year between winter socials and planning, spring pool work, and summer evenings or weekends on the wrecks and reefs off Brighton. The rhythm hasn’t changed much since the early years: trainees start in autumn and aim to be ocean-ready by early summer, while the old hands mentor, skipper, and keep the calendar moving.

Brighton Beach is not just a backdrop. Shore dives happen right off the Palace Pier in 5-9 metres with crabs, blennies and shoaling bass weaving through the pier’s tangle; on the right tides it’s an easy there-and-back swim from the shingle. Offshore, the club’s own site list shows ‘Palace Pier Reef’ ridges a short run from Brighton, plus a spread of novice-to-technical wrecks.

Among them is the Miown, a French steam trawler lost in 1914. Its cargo of cement bags set hard on the seabed, and today those solidified stacks resemble reef blocks, colonised by conger and lobster. Closer to Brighton lies the Inverclyde, a merchantman sunk by German aircraft in 1942. Sitting in thirty metres, its boilers, hull plates and steering gear are still visible, a reminder of wartime losses within sight of the Palace Pier. See also the Brighton-based Channel Diving website.

In 1979, the club formalised under BSAC and began running member-led trips off the Sussex coast. Through the 1980s and 1990s the local repertoire settled into a Brighton-Shoreham-Newhaven triangle, mixing evening reef dips with weekend wreck runs. By the 2000s the pattern of an annual UK club holiday and occasional expeditions further afield was established, while training broadened to include boat handling, oxygen administration and marine-conservation add-ons. In the 2010s, social media made the undersea Sussex more visible, but the core remained stubbornly clubby: volunteer-run dives, autumn intakes, and a summer diary pinned to tides and visibility. There are plenty of photos and videos on the club's Facebook page.

Skyline’s Brighton bike event

A crisp Sunday morning yesterday saw over four thousand or so cyclists gather at Clapham Common to start the Skyline London‑to‑Brighton Cycle Ride. Riders set off in staggered waves, carrying energy and strong fundraising ambitions. The 55‑mile route wound through leafy Surrey lanes, passing Banstead and Haywards Heath before climbing the mile‑long Ditchling Beacon atop the South Downs. Cresting the Beacon rewarded participants with sweeping views and a fast descent to Madeira Drive on Brighton’s seafront, where cheering crowds and medals awaited.

Skyline’s event has run for about fifteen years, operating under the Skyline Events banner, a charity-focused organiser that partners with many different causes. Riders pay a registration fee (currently £55) and commit to a minimum fundraising target (usually £150) for their charity of choice. The route, now well-established, typically moves from city streets to quieter country lanes, up and over the South Downs, and on to the finish in Brighton. Logistics include comprehensive sign‑posting, resident notifications along managed sections, mechanical support, and first aid. While the ride has grown in size and visibility, it remains smaller and more inclusive than the long-running BHF equivalent.

For context, the British Heart Foundation (BHF) London‑to‑Brighton Bike Ride, founded in 1976, attracts up to 14,000 participants and raises over £1 million each year. The BHF ride is a Father’s Day institution, with closed roads and major media coverage. (See 14,000 cyclists on Madeira Drive.) Skyline’s event offers an alternative autumn date and a wider mix of charity partners - such as Great Ormond Street Hospital, Breakthrough T1D, and the MS Society - providing more opportunities for different participants and causes. While the BHF version is known for its scale and road closures, Skyline favours inclusivity and a diverse range of abilities, giving the event a friendlier, less daunting atmosphere.

According to Yahoo News, riders in yesterday’s ride came from all walks of life and raised funds for a wide range of charities. Jonathon Gilchrist, 32, from London, called the ride ‘tough but really fun’, saying Ditchling Beacon was the hardest part and that he was riding in support of Hackney Foodbank with colleagues. Mairi Beasley, 27, also from London and new to cycling, said it was ‘amazing’ and praised the ‘huge sense of community’; she was raising money for Mind UK. Four friends from Wokingham - Simon Fawkes, Steve Simmons, Ian Stewart and Brian Allan - completed the route without stopping at the Beacon and raised £2,500 for Yeldall Manor, a drug and alcohol rehabilitation centre.

Brighton Speed Trials

The Brighton Speed Trials, widely recognised as the world’s oldest motor race and a truly unique part of British sporting heritage, would have been unfolding this weekend were it not for the Brighton & Hove Car Club having permanently axed the event in 2023 - because of mounting costs and growing safety concerns. In 1905, Sir Harry Preston, a visionary entrepreneur (see Brighton Beach as runway), persuaded Brighton’s town council to surface the road by the beach with the then-novel material of tarmac, creating a perfect strip for speed contests at a time when the car was still a freakish newcomer.

The very first trials ran from 19-22 July 1905 as part of Brighton Motor Week, with cars heading west from Black Rock to the aquarium and motorcycles contesting over a standing start mile. The spectacle drew over 400 entries, including Charles Rolls - later of Rolls-Royce fame - and the indomitable Henri Cissac, a Frenchman who set world records for both the flying kilometre and standing mile, chalking up speeds then considered sensational. Dorothy Levitt, the pioneering ‘fastest girl on earth’, made her mark as well. The appetite among the motoring and local population was enormous, but grumbling ratepayers challenged the cost and, after just one memorable week, the Trials fell silent for eighteen years. (The image above is from Wikipedia, and the image below from the Brighton Toy Museum.)

When the starting flag dropped again in 1923, it marked the beginning of a golden era. Now running eastwards, and organised by the Brighton and Hove Motor Cycle and Light Car Club, the Speed Trials attracted hundreds of entrants and ever-growing crowds. By the early thirties, the realisation that Madeira Drive - owned by the Corporation and not subject to national bans on racing - enabled the sport to continue in Brighton even as prohibition bit elsewhere. Legendary duels were fought out on the seafront: Sir Malcolm Campbell, in his supercharged Sunbeam Tiger, pipped John Cobb and his giant Delage in 1932, surging past the finish at 120mph and etching a new car record into the event’s folklore. Motorcycles quickly claimed their share of headlines, too, with heroes like Noel Pope pushing the flying half-mile to ever-more astonishing speeds.

Throughout the twentieth century, the Brighton Speed Trials became known both for their intense spirit of competition and the intimacy of the experience. The course, framing the roar of engines with the sweep of the Channel and overlooked by the terraces, allowed crowds to get close - sometimes breathtakingly so - to drivers and machines that spanned everything from cherished hobby cars to fearsome engineering feats. The event was not without its perils or its interruptions: racing bans, war, the 1970s fuel crisis, and persistent debates about safety and cost all threatened its future. In 2012, a fatal incident led to a fresh council review, and it was only after vigorous campaigning that the Trials returned in 2014.

The enduring appeal of Brighton’s unique sprint lay in its accessibility to amateurs and legends alike and its position at the heart of the motoring calendar, frequently described as the most important speed trial in Britain. It survived for generations not just as a contest of speed, but as an event with a fierce and affectionate following, a living pageant of engineering, camaraderie, and spectacle. By the early 2020s, the Trials continued to draw large fields and fast cars, but mounting costs - new road layouts, revised safety standards, security measures, and logistical demands - combined with financial losses led to their reluctant cancellation after the 2023 edition. Although the event ended with immense sadness from participants, organisers, and supporters, the Brighton Speed Trials’ place in sporting history remains assured. (See also My Brighton and Hove, Wikipedia and Autosport.  For some 1947 photographs see Dacre Stubbs Photo Collection.)

New plans for King Alfred

Brighton & Hove City Council has set out detailed proposals for a new King Alfred Leisure Centre on the Hove seafront, with an estimated budget of up to £65 million. Willmott Dixon has been named as the preferred contractor, and the council intends to keep the current centre open for as long as possible while building takes place. The plans will be reviewed by the Place Overview & Scrutiny Committee on Monday 22 September 2025 and then by Cabinet on Thursday 25 September. If approved, the next steps will include public exhibitions, an online consultation, and submission of a full planning application by the end of the year. Construction is not expected to begin before early 2026, and the new centre is currently forecast to open in spring 2028.

The facilities would represent a major upgrade. The scheme includes an eight-lane 25-metre competition pool with spectator seating, a separate six-lane 25-metre learner pool with a moveable floor, and a splash-pad designed for younger children. There would also be a six-court sports hall meeting Sport England requirements, complete with spectator seating, as well as a health and fitness offer centred on a gym with at least 100 stations, an interactive cycling studio, and multiple studios for group activities. A café and on-site parking are also planned. The council highlights that the current main pool has only six lanes and the existing gym, fitted into a former café, offers just 31 stations.

The new building would be located on the western side of the site, where the present car park is, allowing the existing centre to operate while construction progresses. Two design approaches have been tested: one is a taller scheme with two underground parking levels on a smaller footprint, and the other is a low-rise version with surface parking spread more widely across the site. Parking capacity is intended to be similar to the current provision of about 120 spaces, though final details will be confirmed at the planning stage.

Delivery will be via the UK Leisure Framework with Alliance Leisure as development consultant (see ‘Big move forward’ for Alfred). GT3 Architects are leading design, supported by Engenuiti on structural and civil engineering, Van Zyl & de Villiers on mechanical and electrical services, and Hadron Consulting providing project management. Willmott Dixon has been working alongside these teams during the pre-construction phase. Funding would come from government grants, council borrowing, and income raised through the sale of part of the site for residential development, with the new centre expected to generate significant revenues in the long term to help offset costs.

The project is the outcome of the council’s Sports Facilities Investment Plan, adopted in 2021, and a Green Book business case developed with national sports bodies and advisors. More than 20 potential sites were assessed, with only two making the shortlist: the current seafront plot and land south of Sainsbury’s at the Old Shoreham Road/A293 junction. Cabinet members agreed in July 2024 to proceed at the existing site. Sport England and Swim England advised against pursuing a 50-metre pool, citing cost and city-wide provision considerations. A consultation in 2024 drew more than 3,600 responses, with a clear preference for keeping the centre on the seafront.

The proposals also emphasise wider design principles. These include ensuring accessibility and inclusivity, such as provision for gender-neutral changing and a Changing Places facility, embedding low and zero-carbon technologies, designing with coastal resilience and long-term durability in mind, and linking the centre with the recently opened Hove Beach Park to create a combined indoor–outdoor attraction on the seafront. The council has made public the above artist’s impressions: pool interior render (with sea views and spectator seating); east elevation at dusk; and south elevation at dusk.

Brighton triathlon - no swim!

Brighton’s big swim-bike-run became a run-bike-run this morning after organisers cancelled the sea swim overnight on safety grounds. TriBourne Multisport Events said a review with the swim safety team and the latest forecast left ‘no doubt the swim conditions will be too rough’ as waves were set to build through the night. The decision turned all adult triathlons into duathlons and scrapped the standalone 1,500 m swim.

Racing still began on time off Hove Lawns with revised formats. Standard distance athletes started with a 5 km run before the 40 km closed-road bike and the usual 10 km finish; sprint athletes opened with a 2.5 km run before a 20 km bike and 5 km run (see photos); TriStar and super-sprint waves rolled straight out of transition on the bike; the aquathlons became 10 km and 5 km runs; and the 1,500 m swim was cancelled with refunds or deferrals promised. Duathlon waves were folded into the main beach starts at 9:30 for sprint and 9:40 for standard.

The event’s modern history dates from 2016 when, supported by the council, the city hosted its first Brighton & Hove Triathlon on Sunday 11 September, centred on Hove Lawns with a sea swim, closed-road bike laps and a promenade run. By 2019 the weekend drew more than 1,600 competitors across children’s and adult races and even hosted British Age-Group qualifying, cementing its place on the calendar. This year was billed as the biggest edition yet, with the familiar fast, flat, traffic-free loop on the seafront.

Conditions in the Channel have been a recurring talking point locally, but today’s change was about surf height rather than water quality. Previous concerns have included bathing water standards, with citizen-science testing of Hove seawater year-round reflecting the scrutiny on coastal bathing waters (see Brighton and Hove News). Nationally too, governing bodies from British Triathlon to Swim England have pressed for cleaner rivers and seas after high-profile pollution incidents disrupted events elsewhere (see The Guardian).

Brighton’s triathlon now sits alongside the city’s other mass-participation fixtures that bookend the year: the Brighton Marathon Weekend each spring, the long-running Brighton Half Marathon, and the British Heart Foundation’s London to Brighton Bike Ride that empties thousands onto Madeira Drive each June. Those events, together with today’s reworked duathlon, underscore Brighton Beach’s role as a year-round arena for large, closed-road endurance sport.

Jet skis not great whites

Jet skis - not great whites - are a familiar sight slicing through the waters near Brighton’s Palace Pier, though sometimes they can become so frenzied it is difficult to tell the difference! The main operator offering these central seafront sessions is Simply Good Times, an events company that runs guided jet ski safaris directly from the pebbles. Riders gather just west of the Palace Pier, where they’re kitted out in wetsuits and given a safety briefing before heading out onto the open water.

Prices for these beach-based safaris can appear surprisingly low - sometimes advertised from around £55 per person - but that figure typically reflects group bookings where participants share jet skis and ride in rotation. Rather than operating as a solo rental service, these sessions are designed for hen and stag parties, birthdays, and corporate outings, where the focus is on shared fun and accessible thrills. The jet skis themselves are similar to those used by professional outfits at the Marina - modern, powerful, and fast enough to send a cold plume of salt spray over the Palace Pier's ironwork.

For those seeking a full hour solo on a jet ski - with uninterrupted ride time and private guidance - providers like Lagoon Watersports at Brighton Marina may be a better fit, albeit at a higher price point (around the £150 mark). But if you’re after a taste of jet-powered freedom without leaving the beach, and you don’t mind sharing the ride, then Brighton’s central Jet Ski Safaris offer a rare blend of speed, salt, and spectacle - apparently, with deckchairs and doughnuts waiting when you return.

Jet skiing began in the 1970s with Kawasaki’s original stand-up Jet Ski, and since then, personal watercraft (PWCs) have become a popular form of coastal recreation in the UK. As of 2021, there were an estimated 12,000 to 15,000 jet skis in use across the country, with around 1,200-1,400 new units sold each year (see this government briefing paper). In 2023, UK legislation brought PWCs under the Merchant Shipping Act, following safety concerns and a rise in accidents. This means jet skis are now legally treated as vessels, subject to maritime rules and heavy penalties for misuse.

These photos were shot last weekend from the Palace Pier; and the AI image of a great white is taken from StockCake.

Beyond the Boundary

Here is the tenth of 24 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 features, in close-up, a batsman’s arms and legs positioned next to a set of cricket stumps and bails. A bright red cricket ball, about to be hit, is shown close to the bat. The background includes a green field and blue sky, with an additional white section, probably a sight screen.

A limerick starter

A batsman once played by the sea,

With stumps by the pier and great glee.

He swung at a ball,

Gave Brighton his all

And bowled out a deckchair for three.

Beyond the Boundary (with apologies to the greatest cricket writer of all, C.L.R. James)

Brighton, summer, when the sea air is thick with sugar and salt, and the pier groans beneath the weight of tourists and time. It was here, just beyond the promenade, that the boy made his wicket from driftwood, balanced on a patch of shingle that passed for turf, and dreamed the game into being.

They called him Clem - short for Clement, though he bore little resemblance to that noble prime minister. Dark-skinned and limber, Clem bowled with a whipcord wrist and batted with the elegance of the ancients, though his audience was mostly seagulls and the occasional retiree resting on the bench with a copy of The Argus folded on their lap.

But this day was different. This day, a man in white trousers and a Panama hat approached from the pier, sipping tea from a paper cup like it was silver. He stood for a moment, watching Clem drive a cracked red ball through an upturned deckchair.

‘You ever played proper?’ the man asked, voice smooth like varnished mahogany.

Clem shook his head. ‘Just here.’

The man nodded slowly. ‘Then you’re overdue.’

That’s how it began. Brighton CC had lost two of their colts to summer jobs and one to sulking after being benched. They needed a number seven with sharp reflexes. Clem had never stood on grass so green or worn pads so stiff. But when the new ball swung like a gull in crosswind, he held his ground. And when the slow left-armer dropped one short, Clem pulled it into memory.

Yet it wasn’t only about cricket. Not on this coast. Not for Clem, who knew his grandfather had first disembarked here in ’48, wearing his Sunday best and carrying his bat like a suitcase. Not for Brighton, whose seafront had once denied men like him entry to clubs even as they cheered Caribbean tourists for ‘spicing up the season’. Not for England, where the empire was gone but not forgotten, not even under the shadow of the Pavilion.

That summer, Clem became more than a boy with a bat. He became a conversation. Old men leaned in to discuss his footwork. A local paper ran a headline - New Hope on the Boundary. And down by the pier, tourists took pictures of the match like it was theatre.

In the final game, as dusk rolled off the sea like steam from a kettle, Clem stood with his back to the setting sun. The bowler ran in - tall, wiry, South African. Clem stepped out. The ball pitched short, rose up, and Clem hooked. The ball soared, high over square leg, higher than the Pavilion roof, and for a moment it seemed to pause mid-air, suspended between sea and sky, past and present.

Then it landed - with a kerplunk - into the Channel.

That ball, they said, was still floating somewhere off the coast of Newhaven.

But Clem, barefoot in the shallows that evening, didn’t look for it. He knew it was not the ball that mattered, but the boundary it had crossed.

New Nuun beach run

Today saw the debut of the Nuun BRIGHTON TEN & FREE Foundation 5K, a two-part running event bringing a new blend of competition and inclusivity to Brighton’s seafront. Organised by RunThrough Events and its non-profit arm, the RunThrough Foundation, the day’s races highlighted two distinct aims: one focused on performance over a new 10-mile distance, the other offering a completely free, accessible route into running for local communities.

The Nuun BRIGHTON TEN, a 10-mile closed-road race, began at 9:00am on Madeira Drive, near Brighton Marina. The course was flat, fast and scenic, with chip-timed results, three water stations, and energy gel support at mile six. Entry cost £40, or £52 for those opting to include a sustainable tech t-shirt. All finishers received a medal, refreshments, and free event photography.

The second event, the FREE Foundation 5K, started shortly after at 9:20am and was open to participants via a free-entry ballot. Ballot places were allocated in three stages during April and May, with priority given to underrepresented communities, including low-income households and first-time runners. The 5K route also followed the coast, and participants enjoyed the same finish-line support, safety infrastructure, and festive atmosphere as the 10-mile field.

Though held on the same day, the two events were organised by different wings of the same company. RunThrough Events, founded in 2013 by former international athletes Matt Wood and Ben Green, has grown into one of the UK’s most prolific race organisers, delivering more than 200 events per year across the country. From its roots in a 300-person 10K at Bushy Park, the company has expanded to include half marathons, virtual races, and the launch of RunThrough Kit, an apparel line. Their events are known for strong logistics, welcoming atmospheres and iconic UK venues.

The FREE Foundation 5K, meanwhile, is the product of the RunThrough Foundation, launched in 2023 to remove barriers to distance running. Its mission is to make road racing accessible to all by offering free, closed-road events, especially in communities that might otherwise face economic or social exclusion. The foundation held its first large-scale race at Warrington in 2023, with over 30% of participants running their first-ever event. It followed up with a free London 10K in December 2024. Each event is coupled with year-round community training and support, working in partnership with councils, charities and local groups to leave a lasting impact.

Together, the two Brighton races represent a new approach to running events: one that preserves the structure and ambition of traditional racing while opening the sport to new audiences. Whether chasing a personal best or completing a first run, participants at today’s Brighton TEN and FREE Foundation 5K helped launch what looks set to become a major fixture in the city’s sporting calendar.

Incidentally, Nuun, pronounced ‘Noon’, describes itself as ‘the first company to separate electrolyte replacement from carbohydrates.’ The result, it says, was ‘a healthy, hydrating beverage without all of the extra sugar and additives’. Over a decade later, Nuun Hydration markets itself as ‘hydrating the planet one runner, surfer, cyclist, mother, yogi, hula hooper at a time (the list goes on…)!’

Basketball upgrade for beach

A newly refurbished basketball court on Brighton Beach officially reopens today, following a major upgrade funded by Brighton & Hove City Council with support from Foot Locker and the Hoopsfix Foundation. The court has been extended in size and features a vibrant pink and blue design by Sam Sure of Half Decent Day. New equipment includes regulation-size Perspex backboards, spring-loaded rings, and a fresh playing surface with FIBA-standard markings.

The court’s relaunch (on this rather misty day) is being celebrated with a free public event, including coaching sessions for children, exhibition games, a slam dunk show, music, and giveaways, and will be followed by a new schedule of regular tournaments and competitions set to take place at the site (in partnership with Hoopsfix).

The improvements were guided by a public consultation in which over 500 people participated. The overwhelming majority supported the upgrades, with 98% requesting new hoops and 86% asking for a larger court. In response, the court was lengthened by four metres and widened by two metres to better serve the growing number of basketball enthusiasts in the area.

Council leaders and project partners have praised the collaborative effort. Councillor Alan Robins said the court’s popularity reflects the national rise in basketball participation, especially among young people. Sam Neter of Hoopsfix described the court as one of the UK’s most iconic.

Brighton’s most prominent basketball connection is the Brighton Bears. Originally established in 1973, the team became a powerhouse in British basketball, playing under the Brighton Bears name until 1984 before relocating to Worthing and becoming the Worthing Bears. The team returned to Brighton in 1999, competing at the Brighton Centre - just a short walk from the beach - and quickly re-established itself as a top-flight team in the British Basketball League (BBL). 

Under the leadership of coach Nick Nurse, who later led the Toronto Raptors to an NBA championship, the Bears enjoyed a successful run from 2001 to 2006, winning the BBL Championship in the 2002-03 season and the BBL Cup in 2004-05. It gained international attention in 2006 by signing NBA Hall of Famer Dennis Rodman for a brief stint. The franchise folded later that year, and efforts to revive elite basketball in Brighton faced challenges, with the BBL favouring Worthing Thunder for a franchise slot. However, the Bears’ legacy lives on through a new club established in 2014 in nearby Lancing, West Sussex, initially called the Sussex Bears but since 2022 known again as the Brighton Bears. See also Wikipedia.

The Brighton Fixer

Here is the eight of 24 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 features two jockeys riding brown horses, both in racing posture. The jockey in the foreground is wearing a pink top and white pants, while the jockey behind is dressed in a red top and white pants with a yellow helmet. The background shows stylised green fields, a blue sky, and white clouds, with a prominent red circle in the sky, possibly representing the sun or a race marker. 

A limerick starter

Two jockeys sped off in a dash,

Each hoping to pocket the cash.

Their horses, inspired,

Look secretly wired -

Did someone spike oats with panache?

The Brighton Fixer (in the style of Dick Francis)

I saw it again this morning. The stained glass roundel above the old betting shop door on Brighton seafront. Two jockeys, mid-gallop, frozen in coloured glass - one in rose, one in red. Odd thing is, I know them both.

The one in rose? That’s Charlie Fielding. Dead two years now - trampled under six hooves at Plumpton. Officially an accident. Unofficially, I never bought it. And the other jockey? I’d bet my last losing slip it’s me.

I retired after Charlie’s death. Couldn’t ride without seeing him in my periphery. But I still walked the beach every morning, boots crunching shingle, past the piers and peeling Victorian arches. That’s when I noticed the stained glass, installed suddenly in the old Seagull Tote, long closed and boarded until recently. No artist’s name. No sign. Just that image - and the past, staring back at me.

That morning, a figure was watching from inside. A flicker behind the coloured panes. Curiosity overrode my better sense. I crossed the promenade and pushed through the warped wooden door. It creaked open.

Inside was dim, the salt air clinging to dusty formica. A single bulb buzzed above a folding table. And sitting at it, with a bookmaker’s ledger open in front of him, was Julian Kemp.

He’d trained both Charlie and me once. Slick, silver-haired, with a fondness for quiet threats and sudden debt. He didn’t look surprised to see me.

‘Thought the window might bring you in,’ he said, without looking up. ‘It’s good, isn’t it? Custom commission. Memory’s a powerful lure.’

I didn’t answer. My eyes scanned the room. Beneath the table: a floorboard pried loose. Inside, stacked neatly - old betting slips, laminated, coded. Duplicates of Charlie’s last race. And photos. Surveillance. One showed Charlie arguing with Kemp, another showed Kemp at a late-night meeting with a farrier who’d been banned from every course south of the M25.

Charlie had known something. Tried to back out. And now the glass showed him forever racing to a finish he never reached.

‘You killed him,’ I said quietly.

Kemp smiled like a man remembering a clever joke. ‘He wouldn’t play ball. But you? You stayed loyal. Fancy another ride, Ben?’

He nodded toward a fresh set of silks on a hook: rose pink, like Charlie’s.

I picked them up, felt the weight. Then turned, sharp and fast, and cracked the brass hook against Kemp’s temple. He crumpled silently.

I left him tied with his own power cable, his precious stained glass glowing behind me as the dawn caught the curve of the beach.

I’d call the police once I reached the pier. First, I stopped and looked out to sea.

This time, I wouldn’t be part of the finish line.