Brighton buys the Pavilion

This year marks the 175th anniversary of the Royal Pavilion being bought by the town’s commissioners, thanks to the passage of the Brighton Pavilion Purchase Bill of 1850. The acquisition was a pivotal moment in Brighton’s civic history, transforming a royal pleasure palace into a public asset and setting a precedent for municipal custodianship of cultural landmarks.

Though the Pavilion sits a few hundred yards inland, its fortunes have always been bound up with the beach. Built in stages between 1787 and 1823 for the Prince Regent, later George IV, the domes and minarets quickly became the seaside skyline against which visitors strolled and bathed. Engravings from the early 19th century show the Pavilion’s onion domes rising just beyond the fishermen’s boats drawn up on the shingle. For fashionable Londoners coming to the coast, the Pavilion and the beach were inseparable halves of the same experience – oriental fantasy inland, salt spray and sea-bathing without.

By the 1840s, Queen Victoria had little interest in either. She disliked the lack of privacy in a town where crowds gathered on the promenade and the beach in view of the palace windows. When she abandoned the Pavilion in favour of Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, Brighton suddenly faced the risk of losing its most exotic landmark. Had the Crown sold it for private development, the visual dialogue between Pavilion and beach - palace towers looking seaward over fishermen’s nets and bathing machines - might have been lost.

Instead, civic leaders stepped in. The Brighton Pavilion Purchase Bill, passed in 1850, enabled the town to acquire the site for £53,000. It was the first time a royal palace had been sold to a local authority for public use, and the deal secured not only the building but the seafront identity it helped anchor. Just as the beach was being reshaped with terraces, railings, and new promenades, so too the Pavilion was reborn as a civic showpiece rather than a private retreat.

The Pavilion’s story since then has mirrored the life of the seafront. It has housed civil offices, wartime hospitals for troops brought ashore, and now stands as one of Britain’s most visited seaside attractions. Managed today by Brighton & Hove City Council, the building remains part of the same civic inheritance as the piers, Madeira Terraces, and seafront lawns. In 2025, 175 years after Brighton secured its fairy-tale palace, the Royal Pavilion continues to reflect both the grandeur of its royal past and the democratic vision that bound it forever to the beach.

The image at the top is an aquatint engraving by George Hunt after the Brighton artist Edward Fox. The digital image, taken from the Regency Society website, is owned by the Society of Brighton Print Collectors. The other image, a watercolour, is Brighthelmston, Sussex, by JMW Turner which can be found at Brighton Museum. See The Pavilion pivots 90° for more about this picture which, unusually (and wrongly), shows the Pavilion facing the seafront.

The Brighton steamer

Here is the 16th 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. The image shows a stylised seascape in shades of blue, white and beige. At its centre is a ship with a single tall funnel and two long decks lined with rows of square windows, suggesting a passenger steamer. The vessel has a solid, rounded hull that sits low in the water, built for carrying people rather than speed. It is sailing from right to left across dark blue waves, with broad cloud shapes filling the sky above. In the foreground, sandy tones and angled forms evoke the shoreline or harbour wall, giving the impression of the ship either departing or arriving at the coast.

A limerick starter

A bright little steamer at sea

Steered a bit too close to the quay.

The captain cried, ‘Blimey

The chalk’s right before me!’

Then dodged it with surprising esprit.

The Brighton steamer (in the style of Joseph Conrad)

The Brighton steamer lay broadside to the cliffs, its hull dark against the pallor of chalk and cloud. A late tide heaved against the shingle, uneasy, as though uncertain of its errand. The vessel, with her one funnel trailing a faint stain of smoke, seemed strangely inert, half-marooned in that restless light, yet she pressed on, slow and deliberate, past the line of the pier.

I watched her from the stones, the weight of her passage pressing upon me as though I were myself embarked. Those rows of windows, dull squares under the whitening sky, were like so many blind eyes - passengers hidden, yet expectant. One imagines them sensing, as I did, the menace of the shore: the pale cliff rearing to the east, sheer and implacable, indifferent to all the little confusions of men.

It is not the sea that alarms me, for the sea, even in its sudden wrath, is honest. No, it is the coast, the narrowing margin where water and rock conspire against the traveller, where a false bearing or a moment’s pride may grind out years of labour in an instant. I thought of the master on his bridge, his hands idle on the rail, gazing ahead with the obstinacy of command, knowing that any falter of judgment would lay bare the futility of his journey.

The ship moved on, a shadow sliding under the immensity of cloud, past the bright disorder of the town’s terraces, into the channel’s uncertain breadth. I turned away then, yet her slow form remained before me, imprinted like a memory of some choice deferred, a fate hovering just beyond reach of the beach and its stones.

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.

Seafront heritage lighting

Brighton and Hove City Council has announced - via its Facebook page (with video) - that the first of the city’s Victorian seafront lampposts has been lifted from Madeira Drive for specialist restoration. It seems to have taken more than a dozen operatives to do so. Meanwhile, the local newspaper has uncovered that it cost the council £36,000 to clear away tents from the terrace at this same spot - there were more than a dozen operatives for that operation too!

The first of five cast-iron columns was dismantled and removed from Madeira Drive last Wednesday (10 September). It will now be sent to Cast Iron Welding Services before being refitted early next year with a new lantern made by lighting specialists CU Phosco. The council says five columns are being restored in this first phase of the Seafront Heritage Lighting Regeneration Scheme, marking the start of long-delayed work to safeguard the Grade II listed structures. 

Many of the ornate posts, dating back to the late 19th century, have stood in poor condition for years.The lampposts were first installed when the resort was at the height of its Victorian popularity, and their deterioration has come to symbolise neglect along all of Madeira Drive. Their return next year will be the first visible sign of progress in a wider programme to restore the full line of heritage lighting. (See also Ye Olde Victorian lampposts and Progress on the Madeira arches.)

In fact, I witnessed the operation on Wednesday morning. There were more than a dozen operatives at the site (close to the statue of Steve Ovett). I had a similar sense of there being a surfeit of manpower during the operation to remove squatter tents on the terrace at this same spot a month ago - see International shutdown services. Indeed, the Argus reported a few days ago that that operation had cost the council £36,000!

The Pirates of Brighton Beach

On a bright morning when the sea heaved lazily against the shingle, five pirates - long since stranded on the Sussex coast - emerged from their hideout near the Palace Pier. No longer raiders of the Caribbean, they had been reduced to guardians of Brighton’s beach, their adventures woven into the chatter of gulls and the hum of amusement arcades.

First was Barrel-Bill, a thick-armed brute with a scarred face and a fondness for rum. He never went anywhere without hefting a barrel on his shoulder, claiming it contained both his fortune and his doom. Most suspected it was empty, but none dared ask.

Then came Laughing Redcoat, flamboyant in a tattered scarlet jacket, with a grin as wide as the Channel. He wielded a cutlass with careless joy, and though his jokes were bad, his laugh carried across the pebbles, unnerving fishermen at dawn.

Their captain was Hook-Hand Harrigan, grim-eyed in a sea-blue coat. His iron claw clicked ominously as he muttered plans of reclaiming the sea. Some said his hook had been forged from the ironwork of the ruined West Pier.

Lurking in the shadows was Skeleton Sam, a half-dead wretch who had once been left in chains inside the cliffside caves of Kemptown. He bore the look of a revenant, bones showing through ragged clothes, always watching the tide as if waiting for some ghostly ship to return.

And finally there was Dandy Jack, a sly rogue with rings on his fingers and a sky-blue hat perched rakishly on his brow. He fancied himself a gentleman pirate, though his pistol was always primed. He had a talent for mimicry, and often mocked the mayor and council from atop the railings of Madeira Drive.

Their tale took a turn one evening many years ago when the tide receded very low, revealing the barnacled hulk of a shipwreck just east of the Palace Pier. The townsfolk gathered, whispering of treasure. Barrel-Bill declared the wreck to be theirs, ‘by the rights of piracy and the law of the sea!’ Laughing Redcoat clapped his hands with glee, Hook-Hand Harrigan sharpened his hook against the railings, Skeleton Sam let out a ghastly rattle of breath, and Dandy Jack simply grinned, tipping his hat.

But as they set upon the wreck, Brighton’s beach stirred with more than seaweed. Out from the tide crawled shapes of old sailors, long drowned, their bones glittering with salt. Skeleton Sam greeted them like kin. The others froze.

The undead sailors demanded their ship back. Harrigan stood firm, barrel raised, cutlass drawn, pistol cocked. Yet the ghosts would not fight - they demanded a trade.

So it was agreed: the pirates would guard Brighton’s beach forever, keeping watch over the pier, the pebbles, and the restless Channel, so long as the townsfolk kept their memory alive. And to this day, on windy nights, when the sea roars and the pier lights flicker, you might just glimpse Barrel-Bill’s silhouette or hear Laughing Redcoat’s laugh carried on the air.