Roy Grace on the seafront

Exactly 20 years ago today (possibly!) Peter James’s first Roy Grace novel was published - Dead Simple. I say ‘possibly’ because while ChatGPT provides 5 May 2005 as the exact date it was first published, other sources offer 6 May, and various other dates, too. Peter James is, of course, a great advocate of Brighton and Hove with many of his much-loved crime novels set in the city.  

‘For me there was only ever one location for Roy Grace to be based,’ he told The Book Trail. my hometown of Brighton. To the outsider, Brighton is a hip, beautiful seaside city, but it has a long history of darkness - right back to its roots as a smugglers village! In Regency days it gained a reputation both as a fashionable bathing resort, but in 1841 when the London-Brighton railway line opened, criminals flooded down from London, finding rich pickings and a much nicer environment than their city! They brought cock-fighting, prostitution, pick-pockets, muggers, smugglers, burglars, and gangs. Simultaneously, with the railway enabling quick access from London, many wealthy Londoners brought their mistresses down here and it became known as a place for “dirty weekends”.

James, born 1948, is the son of Cornelia James, who, famously, was glovemaker to Queen Elizabeth II. He was educated at Charterhouse and Ravensbourne Film School, and spent several years in North America, working as a screenwriter and film producer. He has told interviewers that he briefly worked at the home of Orson Welles. Back in the UK, his literary career took off with the Roy Grace series of novels, selling more than 23 million copies worldwide and making him into a household name among crime fiction enthusiasts. His books are known for their fast-paced plots, unexpected twists, and authentic portrayals of modern policing. The list of awards on his Wikipedia bio is almost as long as the list of published novels! Since 2021, the Roy Grace novels have been successfully adapted for broadcast by ITV - giving Brighton yet more screen time!  

Here is James jogging Grace along Brighton Beach in that first novel, Dead Simple (extract taken from chapter 42).

‘Grace started his weekend the way he liked, with an early-Saturday-morning six-mile run along Brighton and Hove seafront. Today it was again raining hard, but that did not matter; he wore a baseball cap with the peak pulled down low to shield his face, a lightweight tracksuit and brand new Nike running shoes. Powering along at a good, fast pace, he soon forgot the rain, forgot all his cares, just breathed deep, went from cushioned stride to cushioned stride, a Stevie Wonder song, ‘Signed, Sealed, Delivered’, playing over in his head, for some reason.

He mouthed the words as he ran past an old man in a trenchcoat walking a poodle on a leash, and then was passed by two Lycra-clad cyclists on mountain bikes. It was low tide. Out on the mudflats a couple of fishermen were digging lugworms for bait. With the tang of salt on his lips, he ran alongside the promenade railings, on past the burnt-out skeleton of the West Pier, then down a ramp to the edge of the beach itself, where the local fishermen left their day boats dragged up far enough to be safe from the highest of tides. He clocked some of their names - Daisy Lee, Belle of Brighton, Sammy - smelled bursts of paint, tarred rope, putrefying fish as he ran on past the still-closed cafes, amusement arcades and art galleries of the Arches, past a windsurfing club, a boating pond behind a low concrete wall, a paddling pool, then underneath the girdered mass of the Palace Pier - where seventeen years back he and Sandy had had their first kiss, and on, starting to tire a little now, but determined to get to the cliffs of Black Rock before he turned round.’

And here is James, a year or so later, again jogging his detective along the seafront in the second of the series, Looking Good Dead (chapter 34).

‘His route took him straight down to the Kingsway, a wide dual carriageway running along Hove seafront. On one side were houses that would give way in half a mile or so to continuous mansion blocks and hotels - some modern, some Victorian, some Regency - that continued the full length of the seafront. Opposite were two small boating lagoons and a playground, lawns and then the promenade with stretches of beach huts, and the pebble beaches beyond, and just over a mile to the east, the wreck of the old West Pier.

It was almost deserted and he felt as if he had the whole city to himself. He loved being out this early on a weekend, as if he had stolen a march on the world. The tide was out, and he could see the orb of the rising sun already well up in the sky. A man walked, far out on the mudflats, swinging a metal detector. A container ship, barely more defined than a smudge, sat out on the horizon, looking motionless.

A sweeper truck moved slowly towards Grace, engine roaring, its brushes swirling, scooping up the usual detritus of a Friday night, the discarded fast-food cartons, Coke cans, cigarette butts, the occasional needle.

Grace stopped in the middle of the promenade, a short distance from a wino curled up asleep on a bench, and did his stretches, breathing deeply that familiar seafront smell he loved so much - the salty tang of the fresh, mild air, richly laced with rust and tar, old rope and putrid fish - that Brighton’s elder generation of seaside landladies liked referring to in their brochures as ozone.

Then he began his six-mile run, to the start of the Marina and back again.’

Homo sapiens fumator

Discovery of a Petrified Tobacco-Based Implement on Brighton Beach: Implications for the Temporal Origins of Homo sapiens sapiens - Dr. Emeric Holloway, F.R.A.S. (Brighton Institute for Speculative Paleohistory).

Abstract: In February 2025, a cylindrical, fibrous-appearing lithic specimen (designated Artifact 42-BRN.CIG01 - see photographs) was recovered from the mid-tide strandline of Brighton Beach. Morphologically consistent with mid-20th-century cigar butts and exhibiting signs of deep mineralisation, the object offers compelling evidence for the existence of modern humans - or culturally equivalent hominins - as far back as the Lower Cretaceous (around 145 million years ago). We posit that this is the earliest known example of recreational inhalation culture, predating even the earliest cave paintings by over 140 million years.

Introduction: While previous discoveries have repeatedly pushed back the timeline of human emergence, none has challenged the basic framework of anthropogenesis - until now. The fossilised specimen in question, exhibiting uniform cylindrical compression, charred end compression (consistent with combustion), and apparent tobacco matrix, suggests the presence of sophisticated social rituals at a time when most paleontologists still believed mammals were no larger than shrews.

Methods: The object was discovered by happenstance during a low-light peripatetic survey (aka a morning stroll) and was immediately subjected to visual stratigraphic analysis (i.e., placed on a table under a lamp). Microscopic examination (hand lens, ×2.5 magnification) confirmed a fibrous structure within a hardened matrix resembling carbonised plant matter. Isotopic dating was unfortunately inconclusive due to the total absence of isotopes typically used in radiometric dating. However, the patination and mineral crust suggest an age “significantly older than expected for any post-industrial detritus” (Holloway, pers. obs.).

Results and Discussion: The external sheen and internal cavity suggest both combustion and puffing activity. The concentric compression rings strongly resemble bite marks of a well-toothed adult hominin. The presence of vitrified silica on one end supports the hypothesis of fire use. Most significantly, the object’s weight and density far exceed modern cigars, suggesting replacement of organic content with minerals over deep time. Comparison with existing fossil records has yielded no plausible natural analogue. Moreover, modern cigars are not naturally occurring. Therefore, the only reasonable conclusion is that this is an artefact of human or proto-human manufacture. Given this evidence, we propose the existence of a new subspecies: Homo sapiens fumator, who emerged not from Africa but from what is now the pebbled coastline of East Sussex.

Conclusion: The implications are seismic. If Brighton Beach has yielded a fossilised cigar of such antiquity, we must reconsider the entire timeline of human evolution. Perhaps, as the sea itself whispers to us, the past is far more deeply buried beneath the shingles than previously believed. Further fieldwork will include metal detection in search of prehistoric Zippo lighters and attempts to carbon date any recovered fossilised ashtrays.

White swan, red fox and fat cat

What a feast of joy, laughter, music, colour and youth is Brighton Children’s Parade - held on the first Saturday of the city’s May festival. This year’s procession could not have enjoyed better weather, and after parading through town, thousands and thousands of schoolchildren, teachers, parents and friends concluded by parading  down Madeira Drive, along a resplendent Brighton Beach.

The Brighton Festival Children’s Parade was first held in 1985 having been conceived as a way to open the Brighton Festival, which itself dates back to 1967. The Festival aimed to promote arts and culture across the city, and the Children’s Parade was introduced to reflect these values in a joyful, community-centric way, engaging young people in the creative arts. The inaugural parade involved only a handful of local schools. Over the years, it has grown significantly and today included large groups mostly from around 60 schools (and institutions) across Brighton & Hove and nearby areas.

The Parade is produced by Same Sky, a Brighton-based community arts charity dedicated to creating inclusive public art and large-scale outdoor celebrations. Its members work closely with schools and teachers, providing guidance, artistic support, and materials for the construction of costumes, banners, and large puppets used in the parade.

The Children’s Parade theme this year was chosen by musician Anoushka Shankar (who also led the procession) under the New Dawn banner of the overall festival.
- Things we want to Change: What can get better, what do we want to bring into the world?
- Things we want to Cherish: What do we want to keep, and remind people is vital to us?
- Things we want to Chuck: What should we stop doing to make a better world?

Local press reports and photographs can be found in The Argus and Brighton and Hove News. 

The queen of ’em, ‘Old Martha Gunn’

Martha Gunn, the most famous of Brighton’s dippers, died 210 years ago today. It’s impossible not to read about the town’s history without coming across Martha, and it’s clear that she was something of a celebrity, despite her relatively humble work. Today the so-called Queen of the Dippers can be found in many much-reproduced images, on postcards and in local histories, and she even features in popular rhymes. 

Martha Killick was born in Brighton in 1726. She married fisherman Stephen Gunn, and they had eight children, though only some survived into adulthood. She gained prominence during the town’s transformation into a fashionable seaside resort, as one of the most famous seawater dippers of her time, known for her robust physique, commanding presence, and no-nonsense attitude. Her work involved physically lifting clients - often wealthy or aristocratic visitors - into and out of the cold sea, using bathing machines. This demanding occupation required strength and confidence, qualities she seems to have possessed in abundance.

Gunn’s fame grew in part due to her association with the royal family, particularly the Prince of Wales (later George IV), who frequented Brighton and is said to have been on friendly terms with her. Gunn’s image appeared on various prints, satirical cartoons, and souvenirs, often showing her in a striped dress and bonnet, sometimes defending the prince or warding off critics of sea bathing. She remained a local celebrity throughout her life and is remembered as a symbol of Brighton’s early days as a health resort. She died in 1815 and was buried in St Nicholas’ Churchyard in Brighton, where her grave can still be seen today.

There’s more information about Martha Gunn at Wikipedia, in John Ackerson Erredge’s History of Brighthelmston (readily available online, at Project Gutenberg for example), and in John George Bishop’s ‘A peep into the past’: Brighton in the olden time, with a glance at the present (available at Internet Archive). Also, the Sussex PhotoHistory website (run by David Simkin) has good details and a selection of images.

Here’s a slightly saucy (but anonymous) rhyme about Martha (as quoted by Erredge).

There’s plenty of dippers and jokers,
And salt-water rigs for your fun;
The king of them all is diary ‘Old Smoaker,’
The queen of ’em, ‘Old Martha Gunn.’

The ladies walk out in the morn,
To taste of the salt-water breeze;
They ask if the water is warm,
Says Martha, ‘Yes, Ma’am, if you please.’

Then away to the machines they run,
’Tis surprising how soon they get stript;
I oft wish myself Martha Gunn,
Just to see the young ladies get dipt.

And Erredge also quotes this diary-like extract from The Morning Herald 28 August 1806: ‘The Beach this morning was thronged with ladies, all anxious to make interest for a dip. The machines, of course, were in very great request, though none could be run into the ocean in consequence of the heavy swell, but remained stationary at the water’s edge, from which Martha Gunn and her robust female assistants took their fair charges, closely enveloped in their partly coloured dresses, and gently held them to the breakers, which not quite so gently passed over them.’

Giant green monsters

Monsters. Monsters on the beach yesterday. Giant green monsters! Monsters because they’re giants, green hulks no less, colonising the pebbles. And monsters too because they are laying down event flooring - metal plates - allowing their army of other engined monsters to swarm onto the pebbles bringing fencing and more fencing (closing down acres of beach), and building infrastructure for food, drink and music.

I believe The Great Escape must be coming - the festival for new music. The organisers say: ‘We’re proud to present an incredible wave of local artists taking to our stages this May, spanning genres, scenes and generations of sound. Whether you’re into fuzzy guitars, punk energy, experimental electronics or dreamy indie pop, Brighton is serving it up.’ This year’s lineup boasts over 450 emerging artists from around the globe, performing across 30+ venues throughout the city, notably including the pop-up festival site on Brighton Beach. 

The monsters are, in fact, two Scania trucks operated by Sunbelt Rentals, which claims to be the UK’s largest and greenest rental provider. Both trucks are painted in Sunbelt’s signature bright green livery and are fitted with crane arms, indicating that they are hiab (loader crane) trucks, commonly used for transporting and unloading heavy materials. They’ll get a few days rest when the music fills the beach, and then they’ll be back to dismantle it all. 

Fantasy, history and rhythm collide

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

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

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

Deck chair history!

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

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

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

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

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