I have bathed so often

One of Brighton’s earliest literary visitors was Frances ‘Fanny’ Burney, later known as Madame d’Arblay. She first arrived in the early 1780s, at a time when sea bathing was becoming a popular remedy for health ailments. She became a famous novelist, but was also an inveterate letter writer and diary keeper. Indeed, today she is best remembered for her diaries which were first published in seven volumes. Curiously, although she tells her diary in 1982, ‘I have bathed so often as to lose my dread of the operation’, in all those volumes I can only find one significant reference to Brighton beach and seaside.

Burney was born in 1752 at King’s Lynn, Norfolk, the daughter of Charles Burney, a musician and man of letters. The family moved to London in 1760, where Charles was part of a busy literary circle. Fanny was a precocious child (although her mother died when she was just 10). She was educated at home with the help of her father’s extensive library and of his friends, in particular Samuel Crisp who encouraged her to write journal-letters, in which she carefully reported on the social world around her family. And, it was writing of this ilk that led to her first novel, Evelina, published anonymously when she was only 26.

Evelina was an instant success and led London society to speculate on the identity of the writer - widely assumed to be a man. The Burney Centre biography says Fanny ‘became the first woman to make writing novels respectable’. With Evelina, it adds, she created a new school of fiction in English - a ‘comedy of manners’ - one in which women in society were portrayed in realistic, contemporary circumstances. This new genre would later pave the way for Jane Austen and other 19th century writers. Meanwhile, once discovered as the author of Evelina, Burney was taken up by literary and high society, in particular she became very friendly with the Thrales and Dr Johnson, and would often stay at the Brighton house of the Thrales in West Street.

In 1786, Burney was appointed Second Keeper of the Robes to Queen Charlotte, wife of George III. This position took her to Brighton where the King decamped for health reasons. But she was not happy in court, and was allowed to resign in 1791. Not long after, she married the French emigré Alexandre d’Arblay, and they had one son. She died in 1840. More information is available at Brighton Museums and The Burney Centre.

Burney left behind a rich literary estate of diaries and letters. Heavily edited versions of these were published in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, but it wasn’t until Joyce Hemlow published her landmark biography, The History of Fanny Burney, in 1958 that the full impact of Burney’s contribution to literature and letters began to be better appreciated. All seven volumes of the original Diary and Letters of Madame d’Arblay, edited by her niece and published by Henry Colburn in 1842, are available online at Internet Archive. For information on the more recent Complete Scholarly Edition by Hemlow see Oxford University Press.

Burney first visited Brighton in 1779. Here is a brief diary extract written during that visit.

26 May 1779

‘The road from Streatham hither is beautiful: Mr., Mrs., Miss Thrale, and Miss Susan Thrale, and I, travelled in a coach, with four horses, and two of the servants in a chaise, besides two men on horseback; so we were obliged to stop for some time at three places on the road.

We got home by about nine o’clock. Mr. Thrale's house is in West Street, which is the court end of the town here, as well as in London. ’Tis a neat, small house, and I have a snug comfortable room to myself. The sea is not many yards from our windows. Our journey was delightfully pleasant, the day being heavenly, the roads in fine order, the prospects charming, and everybody good-humoured and cheerful.’

And here is a diary entry from three years later - Burney’s only significant mention of the beach and swimming (at least that I can find).

20 November 1782

‘Mrs and the three Miss Thrales and myself all arose at six o’clock in the morning, and ‘by the pale blink of the moon’ we went to the sea-side, where we had bespoke the bathing-women to be ready for us, and into the ocean we plunged. It was cold, but pleasant. I have bathed so often as to lose my dread of the operation, which now gives me nothing but animation and vigour.’

In view of this latter comment by Burney, it is somewhat curious that she doesn’t mention Brighton’s beach or bathing elsewhere. When I asked ChatGPT why this might be, it proposed the following reasons.

1) Burney, like many women of her era, maintained a degree of propriety in her writings. Sea-bathing, particularly for women, involved being physically handled by ‘dippers’ and experiencing an undignified immersion in the sea. She may have found the experience too embarrassing or indelicate to describe in detail. 2) While Brighton was famous for its sea-bathing, Burney’s letters suggest she was more interested in its social scene - the promenades, assemblies, and court gatherings. 3) Once she became accustomed to bathing, she may not have considered it remarkable enough to record further. 4) References to bathing were removed by editors if they were deemed too trivial or personal.

(The photograph of bathing machines above is a detail from a larger image found in Victorian and Edwardian Brighton from old photographs by John Betjeman and J. S. Gray published by Batsford 1972.)

Löyly, Leil and Saunacraft

Löyly, Leil and Saunacraft are good for another five years! Earlier this month, Brighton & Hove City Council approved an application by Beach Box Spa Ltd for ‘a temporary change of use of beach for use as a spa/sauna for period of five years’. The company - set up by Liz Watson and Katie Bracher - first offered a single sauna back in 2018, but since then has expanded to three saunas. In support of the planning approval, the council received hundreds of positive comments. 

Beach Box first operated nearby the early Sea Lanes site; but, it was obliged to close down as the Sea Lanes complex developed. In early 2022, it repositioned its saunas a little further east, at the Banjo Groyne (by this time Liz Watson was the sole owner). A temporary planning permit was granted, to March 2023, and then another to March 2025. However, the most recent planning permission will last till 2030, ‘to allow time for a new, permanent location to be found’. Three conditions are attached to the permit: the land to be restored to its natural condition on or before 30 April 2030; operations limited to the hours of 7am to 10pm; and, a prohibition on any use of external loudspeakers (unless otherwise separately agreed).

Leil, the original sauna, was created from a converted horse box. Aspen-lined it has benches on one level and it boasts a snug, grey, felt ceiling. Löyly was built by the Bristol company Saunacraft, and is the hottest of the three, also aspen-lined. It is said to have a woodland cabin feel, and a maple syrup aroma. Lotta was crafted by local sauna builders, Wildhut, and is cedar clad - cedar having aromatic and antibacterial properties. It offers panoramic ocean views and a capacity of 9/12.

According to the council, some 229 letters in support were received in support of planning permission. The contents are summarised as follows:
‘- Provides health and wellbeing benefits
- Economic boost to local area from employment and tourism
- Positive feature on the seafront with benefit to local community
- Fits with other venues in the area
- Facility is well run and accessible
- No harm to neighbouring amenity
- Generates positive publicity
- Location on the beach benefits the sauna experience’

As well as a range of spa treatments and a forest sauna near Battle, Beach Box also offers a busy schedule of sauna events. This one, on 31 March, looks particularly interesting: New Moon Party. ‘A New Moon offers us an opportunity to set intentions and goals, letting go of limiting beliefs that might hold us back and planting seeds for the future. It feels like a breathe of fresh air for the mind! Our trained Sauna Masters will guide you through a journey for the senses, with sauna rituals, leaves and aromatherapy scents. Enjoy cold plunges between rounds to reset and invigorate. A cosy moment around the firepit, to finish, with post-sauna nibbles under the moonlit sky. Let the warmth of the sauna soothe your body, the coolness of the water awaken your senses, and the magic of the New Moon inspire your soul.’

Ye olde Victorian lampposts

Brighton & Hove Council has recently launched its project to restore five Grade II listed lampposts of different styles and condition. Although the initial pilot project is small, just five columns, the £4m scheme should see 80 restored in time - returning ‘our seafront lighting to its former glory’. The most prominent examples are the 66 identical lampposts installed along the seafront in 1893, stretching both east and west from the Palace Pier. These cast iron structures feature elaborate decorations, including foliage, acanthus, and ribbed mouldings. The wide, basket-shaped capitals support twin lamps suspended from ornate brackets. While originally gas-powered, they were later converted to electricity. 

The new project  - with the participation of Historic England - focuses on careful refurbishment and, where necessary, replication of damaged or missing parts, ensuring the 80 lampposts maintain their historical accuracy. The meticulous process, the Council says, involves expert metalwork and craftsmanship to preserve the original character of the iconic structures. The restoration aims to enhance the aesthetic appeal of the seafront and historic areas while ensuring the lampposts continue to provide effective and energy-efficient lighting.

The project is expected to take several years to complete and will cost in the region of £4m. Some of the funds are being covered by the council’s Carbon Neutral Fund, but the council is also taking advantage of capital funding and money remaining from a project to install LED lights in the city’s street lighting.

The council has provided more detail on the work. Each column, it says, has been individually logged so that, once restoration is complete, they’ll be placed back in their original location. A company called Cast Iron Welding Services will transport the columns to its foundry restoration facility, There, it will remove many layers of lead-based paint, disassemble/inspect the columns, repair any fractures and apply a new exterior coating/paint to protect the columns. New energy efficient LED lamps will be made for each column by CU Phosco.

Tom Foxall, Regional Director at Historic England, said: ‘The historic lampposts along the seafront, with their decorative twin pendant lantern lights, are an iconic feature of the promenade and a reminder of Brighton & Hove’s heyday as a Victorian seaside resort. However, many are in poor condition due to corrosion from the sea air. We have worked in partnership with a specialist metal conservator and Brighton & Hove City Council to identify the best way to restore the lamps, preserving as much of the original materials as possible. I’m delighted that the pilot project to restore five columns of different styles and condition is now underway, which will inform how the rest of the columns will be restored. It’s vital that we protect and appreciate our seaside heritage.’

Meanwhile, a description and list of the city’s old lampposts can be found on its Heritage Assets web pages. There are, apparently, over 5,000 cast iron street lights in the city, with most of them (not the elaborate seafront columns) falling into one of nine types - as in the council’s photo montage below.

A dash of Venetian elegance

Cecconi’s, known for its refined Northern Italian cuisine and style-conscious decor, has just opened its new Brighton Beach venue to the general public, bringing what, some might say, is a dash of Venetian elegance to the Sussex coast. Situated on the first floor of the Soho House buildings within the Grade II-listed terrace on Madeira Drive, the restaurant has views across the beach and towards the Palace Pier. 

However, a word of warning to the general public: Cecconi’s remains a rather exclusive venue. Having walked all the way round the Soho House premises on Madeira Drive, I’ve no doubt the restaurant is inside somewhere but I could find no trace of Cecconi’s from the outside, no name, no sign, no menu.

Cecconi’s was founded in 1978 by Enzo Cecconi, the youngest-ever general manager of Venice’s famed Hotel Cipriani (which nowadays offers rooms starting at $1,400 per night!). The first restaurant opened in London’s Mayfair, quickly becoming a hotspot for those seeking a theatrical dining experience and authentic Venetian cuisine. In 2005, the restaurant was acquired by Soho House (‘a club for creatives’), a move which led to a rapid expansion of the Cecconi’s brand, with a first UK location outside London at Bicester Village, and thereafter some 15 or more venues, from Miami to Mumbai, and Istanbul to LA. 

Among the cicchetti on offer in the Brighton Cecconi’s is ‘whipped ricotta, chilli honey, oregano’, a snip at £10, while ‘spaghetti, native lobster, tomato, chilli’ will set you back £40. Open Table has mostly positive reviews, such as ‘a lovely spot for lunch, the staff were really warm and friendly. It’s very easy to enjoy the wine and the views!’ Another diner, though, noted: ‘Beautiful location. Food is ok. Restaurant staff were wonderful but bar staff very moody and abrupt.’ Happy dining, if you can find the entrance!

PS: If you’re over 27, local membership of Soho House will cost you £125 a month, or £2,000 for global membership (both require a hefty £550 joining fee).

Freedom or Kiteboarding on Brighton Beach

As free as the sky

As free as the sea

As free as she wants to be

As free as the wind

As free as the breeze

As free as she hopes for ease

As free as flight

As free as the air

As free as she wishes to dare

Zink Zonk Zunk

This is space/time warping 30 degrees

The air rotating to an acute angle

The sea flowing down and to the west

The breeze churning into a mighty easterly

And she who was as free as . . .

And she who was free . . .

And she who was . . .

And she who . . .

And she . . .

Is taking a last glorious, epic leap - up, up and beyond

Never to be seen again

Sheridan’s Brighton Belle

Thirteen years ago today, the Scottish writer Sara Sheridan launched her most well-known character in the first of the eponymous Mirabelle Bevan mystery novels. Brighton Belle - which can be freely borrowed online - is set in post-war 1951 Brighton. It follows Bevan, a former Secret Service operative who has retired to Brighton after the death of her lover. She works at a debt collection agency, hoping for a quieter life, but is drawn into a complex investigation when a pregnant Hungarian refugee, Romana Laszlo, goes missing under suspicious circumstances. Chapter one opens with this aphorism: ‘Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without.’ And the first few paragraphs take us straight to Brighton Beach.

‘Mirabelle Bevan surveyed Brighton’s beachfront from her deckchair. The weather had been so fine the last few days she was picking up a golden tan. 

Well put-together and in her prime, Mirabelle always ate her lunch on Brighton beach if the weather was in any way passable, but out of sheer principle she never paid tuppence for a chair. We did not win the war to have to pay to sit down, she frequently found herself thinking. Mirabelle’s stance against the deckchair charges was one of the few things that kept her going these days. In an act of personal defiance, she carefully timed the coming and goings of Ron, the deckchair attendant, and concluded that it was perfectly possible to sneak enough time to enjoy her sandwich while he tended the other end of his pitch. By selecting the right chair she could have an average of twenty-five undisturbed minutes, which was perfect. Mirabelle’s life these days revolved around small victories, little markers in her day that got her through until it was time for bed.

She loved the beach! There was something soothing about the expanse of grey and cream pebbles, the changing colour of the sea and the movement of the clouds. Mirabelle didn’t mind if it was cold or if there was a spot of rain and it was only during a full-blown downpour or a gale-force wind that she retreated to the steamy interior of the Pier Café. Now she ate her fish paste sandwich with her large hazel eyes on the ocean and her sixth sense switched on in case Ron returned early.’

Sheridan was born in 1968, in Edinburgh, Scotland. She studied English at Trinity College Dublin, and soon set about a writing career with her first book Truth or Dare. She has authored over 20 books, including the nine-part Mirabelle Bevan Mysteries, and several historical novels such as The Secret Mandarin and The Fair Botanists. She says, on her website, that she is deeply interested in diverse readings of history and has worked on projects like remapping Scotland according to women’s history. She is also an occasional journalist and blogger, contributing to outlets like BBC Radio 4, The Guardian, and The London Review of Books. She has one daughter, Molly by her first marriage to Irish businessman, Seamus Sheridan, and she married her second husband, Alan Ferrier, in 2011.

Brighton Belle, first published by Polygon on 20 March 2012, follows Mirabelle as she investigates, with a colleague Vesta Churchill, Romana’s death. In so doing, she uncovers a web of intrigue involving Nazi war criminals, counterfeit coins, and murder! The narrative is said to explore themes of post-war austerity, societal changes, and racism while evoking the atmosphere of 1950s Britain. Other titles in the series include British Bulldog, England Expects, and Operation Goodwood.

It is worth noting that the name ‘Brighton Belle’ is more famously associated with The Brighton Belle, a named train operated by the Southern Railway and subsequently British Railways from Victoria to Brighton. Commissioned as the flagship of the Southern Railway’s mass electrification project, which commenced in January 1931, the world’s only electric all-Pullman service ran daily between London Victoria and Brighton from 1 January 1933 until 30 April 1972.

The Blue Seafrog

Maggie had been told - firmly, repeatedly - that there was no such thing as a seafrog. But here it was, on Brighton Beach.

It lay among the bladderwrack, a queer, knotted thing, its four long legs stretched as if it had been caught mid-leap and petrified. The tide had left it stranded among the glistening pebbles, tangled in seaweed that clung to it like old lace. She knelt down, brushing wet strands of kelp aside.

‘A seafrog,’ she whispered.

Behind her, Alfie was balancing a stick on his nose, utterly uninterested. ‘If it's a frog, it’ll be dead,’ he remarked, letting the stick fall and rolling his eyes skyward as if this conversation were a terrible burden.

 

[With a nod to ChatGPT, and apologies to Edith Nesbit (Five Children and It). See also The Red Spider and The Green Gecko.]

Maggie ignored him. She had read enough to know that creatures of the sea were never quite as they seemed. What if it was sleeping? What if, with just the right words, it might wake?

She prodded it. The blue skin was coarse like rope. There was a knot at its middle, a sort of cruel binding, as if some careless fisherman had captured it and then forgotten it here.

Alfie sighed. ‘It's a bit of old cord, Maggie.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘It’s got fraying at the ends!’

Maggie looked closer. The fraying did look suspiciously like threadbare rope rather than amphibian limbs. But something in the air - something in the hush of the retreating tide - made her doubt Alfie’s certainty.

‘You never believe in anything,’ she said crossly.

‘And you believe in everything,’ he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets and scuffing his boot against the pebbles.

Maggie picked up the thing - dead frog or sea-rope or something else entirely - and carried it with great care toward the sandy pools under the pier by each of its support columns. The water was still, the sort of glassy stillness that made you feel as if something beneath was watching. She laid the thing down in the shallow water, and waited. Alfie joined her.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then, quite suddenly, Alfie shouted.

‘Maggie!’

They both jumped back. The thing in the water was moving. No - not moving. Unraveling. The knotted shape loosened, the ends wriggling like living limbs, stretching as if waking from a long, enchanted sleep. The pool darkened around it, the water began to swirl as though something larger was rising from the depths.

Alfie grabbed her hand. ‘Come away!’

But Maggie stayed, her breath caught in her throat. The thing - once cord, once lifeless - slipped silently beneath the surface and was gone.

Only the faintest ripple remained.

Alfie stared.

‘I told you,’ Maggie said softly.

For once, Alfie had nothing to say.

The tide crept in. The sea took its secrets. And the blue seafrog - if that’s what it had been - remained as much of a mystery to Maggie as it had ever been.