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.