William IV on the seafront

After several winter months in Brighton, on this day - 20 February - in 1833, King William IV and Queen Adelaide left for London or Windsor; and with them many others - the court of noble visitors, military officers and distinguished guests - would also depart, presumably leaving the town a much quieter place. There is little direct evidence of the royal couple enjoying the beach, but one contemporary news report mentions the King walking near the beach; moreover the couple were often greeted with public parades along the seafront. (DALL-E created this fantastical image.)

During William IV’s reign, he and Queen Adelaide typically arrived in Brighton between October and early November, marking the start of the town’s royal season. Unlike George IV, who had hosted extravagant and exclusive banquets, William IV’s court was more modest and informal. The royal couple entertained their close circle with small dinners and musical evenings in the Pavilion’s grand music room. Queen Adelaide, deeply religious, spent her mornings at St. Nicholas Church or engaged in charitable activities, often visiting Brighton’s poorer areas. 

When arriving in Brighton, the royal couple were often greeted with public parades along the seafront. William, a former naval officer, enjoyed the company of military men (often receiving officers from Brighton Barracks). He took pleasure in watching naval activities from the town. Moreover, he was known to take brisk walks along the Steine, greeting townsfolk with a sailor’s ease, much unlike his aloof predecessor.

Ballrooms, hotels and theatres saw lively activity, continuing right through until the season’s close. On 18 February 1833, for example, the Theatre Royal staged a performance of Shakespeare’s Othello (though the King and Queen did not attend that show). However, despite the glamour, there was a darker side to Brighton’s prosperity. In early February 1833, local papers reported growing concerns about poverty in the town. 

By mid-February (certainly in 1831, 1832 and 1833), royal carriages were being prepared, and servants were packing up the Pavilion’s royal apartments. On the morning of 20 February 1833, the King and Queen, accompanied by their household, departed Brighton in a carefully orchestrated procession. Their journey back to London was no small undertaking. The royal party would have consisted of: the King and Queen’s personal carriage, a grand, gilded state coach drawn by six horses; several accompanying carriages for courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, and aides, each pulled by four to six horses; a baggage coach, loaded with trunks and personal effects, handled by royal footmen; and mounted outriders and guards ensuring security along the route.

As their carriages rolled out of Brighton, a small but respectful crowd would have gathered along the Steine and North Street, offering farewells. The journey to London, roughly 55 miles, would have taken most of the day, with stops at posting inns where fresh horses were exchanged. Within days, the town’s high society would have all but vanished. Although the King and Queen did return once or twice more to the town, after 1833, the days of the royal season were numbered - Queen Victoria would never take to the Pavilion or the town, and after a few brief visits she would sell the royal estate, and take her holidays elsewhere.

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From batteries to baths

Historically, Brighton long needed to defend itself against frequent incursions across the Channel by the French. The town first seems to have resolved to erect fortifications more than 450 years ago, in 1558. A Court Baron of the manor of Brighthelmston-Lewes, John Ackerson Erredge tells us in his History of Brighthelmston, was held on the 29th of September in that year; and the following entry appeared in the Court Rolls:

‘North part of the Block-house aforesaid is built on part of the demesnes of that manor. The land granted was on the Cliff between Black-lion street and Ship street, and about 215 yards westward of East street. The Block-house was circular, about fifty feet in diameter, and the walls were about eight feet in thickness, and eighteen feet in height. Several arched apartments in its thick walls were depositories for the powder and other ammunition for the defence of the town. In front of it, towards the sea, was a little battery called the Gun Garden, on which were mounted four pieces of large iron ordnance. Adjoining the Block-house, on the east, stood the Town-house, with a dungeon under it for malefactors; and on the summit of this building rose a turret, on which the town clock was fitted. At the same time with the Block-house, were erected four gates of freestone, (three of which were arched) leading from the Cliff to that part of the town which lay under it, namely, the East Gate at the bottom of East street; the Portal, which was called the Porter’s Gate, and was less than any of the others; it stood next the East Gate; the Middle Gate, opposite the end of Middle street, commonly called the Gate of All Nations; and the West Gate, which stood at the end of West street. From the East Gate, westward, there was, at the same time, a wall built about fifteen feet high, and four hundred feet long, where the Cliff was most easy of ascent: and from the termination of that wall, a parapet three feet high, was continued on the verge of the Cliff to the West Gate, with embrasures for cannon. The Block-house was built at the expense of the mariners of the town; but the gates and walls were erected partly if not wholly by the government.’

By 1580, Brighton’s defences are said to have included: four great cannon sent from the Tower of London; two additional cannons belonging to the inhabitants; and ten callivers (a type of light musket). According to a justice of the peace, by 1635 the town was lacking sufficient defence abilities, moreover, coastal erosion was continuously threatening the existing structures. Two batteries were built in 1759-1760 during the Seven Years War, but the East Battery’s guns were washed into the sea in 1786.

In 1793, during the French Revolutionary Wars, new batteries were constructed. The West Battery, a prominent feature of this period, was installed on King’s Road. It consisted of six cannons that could fire 40-pound cannonballs. The location of the West Battery significantly influenced the development of Brighton’s seafront. It was situated where the Grand Hotel now stands, causing a curve in King’s Road to accommodate its presence. This strategic positioning not only served defensive purposes but also shaped the layout of Brighton’s iconic seafront.

Incidentally, in 1813, the Artillery Baths opened near the West Battery, later becoming Hobden’s Royal Artillery Baths in 1824.

Other online sources, apart from Erredge, include Sue Berry’s The seaside resorts of Sussex c.1730–1815: resort development and military defences on the south coast of England’, My Brighton and Hove, British History Online. The above image has been widely used in publications, but this one was downloaded from the media collection of Brighton and Hove Museums.

Snapshots of Storm Eunice

Storm Eunice, which hit Brighton four years ago today, was an extremely powerful extratropical cyclone with hurricane-force winds. A red weather warning was issued on 17 February for parts of South West England, with a second red warning issued on 18 February, the day the storm struck, for London, the South East and East of England.

Eunice is considered to be have been one of the most powerful storms to impact the south coast of England since the Great Storm of 1987. It set a new record for the fastest wind gust recorded in England at 122 mph (196 km/h) at The Needles, Isle of Wight. A Getty Image photo of Brighton Pier was shown on the BBC website (coincidentally, very similar to my photo above). Elsewhere in the country, the storm caused the deaths of three people.

The storm wreaked havoc across a large swathe of Western, Central and Northern Europe; millions of people were left without power across affected areas, and many homes had sustained damage. The UK was particularly hard hit, with 1.4 million homes left without power at its peak.

On the day, Brighton and Hove City Council issued a news release: ‘Brighton and Hove’s beaches can be extremely dangerous in stormy weather with violent waves coming from different directions, coupled with freezing temperatures and high spring tides. Our seafront team patrol the 13km (eight miles) of our seafront and look out for the safety of the public but we urge people to keep well away from high waves and rough seas.’

From my personal diary, 18 February 2022

‘Eunice has come and gone. I cycled down to the sea front which was quite a challenge (but on returning it was like being on an electric bike!). The sea was furious, with enormous waves rolling in so high that they were at the level of the pier, and if you’d been standing on the pier boards, the sea would have been washing over your feet. The pier was, of course, closed. Large danger signs were out on the beach, deterring people from getting too close to the surf crash. There were quite a few people around, not enough to call it a crowd, and most of them were taking, or trying to take, photos. Sheltered on the east side of the pier, it was fairly comfortable to stand and watch the roaring, boiling sea, and the foam ride along the pier sides, and under, but on the west side, it was too windy, and too wet, as sea spray was more often than not filling the air. Very exciting to see. I took a few photos myself, but was afraid of the camera getting wet.’

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Operation Brushstroke on Glass

Here is the second of 25 stained glass window designs on the Palace Pier which AI & I are using as inspiration for some of these BrightonBeach365 daily posts - see Stained glass window 1 for background.

This one is a vibrant tableau of mid-century joie de vivre. A ruby-red convertible bursts forth from its circular frame, promising adventure on sun-drenched boulevards and Brighton Beach beyond. At the wheel sits a debonair driver, sporting a jaunty cap, while his companion, draped in emerald green, gestures with carefree abandon towards the azure sky. 

Limerick starter

Two travellers sped down the lane,

In a car that was red as a flame.

With a cheer and a shout,

They were zipping about,

On a Brighton trip wild and insane!

Operation Brushstroke on Glass (in the style of James Bond)

James Bond and Veronica Steele were speeding down Marine Parade in a cherry-red convertible. Veronica’s scarf whipped behind her as she raised her arm to secure her hair against the wind.

‘You do realise this car is about as subtle as fireworks on New Year’s Eve?’ she quipped.

‘Subtlety is overrated,’ Bond replied, shifting gears as they approached the pier. ‘Besides, it’s Brighton. We’ll blend right in.’

As they reached the pier entrance, Bond parked with deliberate carelessness, drawing more than a few curious glances. The pair strolled onto the wooden planks, their eyes darting between the garish carnival games and food stalls. The salty air mingled with the scent of fried fish and seaweed. As they entered the Winter Garden, the sun poured through the stained glass dome, casting a kaleidoscope of colours. 

James Bond leaned casually against a bar, ordered a martini, and let his sharp blue eyes scan the bustling crowd. The image above him - a vibrant depiction of a man and woman in a red convertible - seemed almost prophetic.

‘Careful, Bond,’ said Veronica Steele, appearing at his side. She wore a green silk dress that matched her piercing gaze. ‘You’re staring at that stained glass as if it’s going to offer you answers.’

‘Art has a way of speaking to us,’ Bond replied with a smirk. ‘And this one seems to be saying “trouble ahead.” ’

Trouble wasn’t far off. Somewhere among the revellers was Emil Kovacs, an art smuggler turned arms dealer who had stolen a priceless microfilm encoded with nuclear launch codes. MI6 had intel that Kovacs planned to hand it off tonight on the iconic Palace Pier.

No sooner had his martini arrived than Veronica whispered ‘there’, nodding toward a small group just beyond the exit, outside, with Kovacs at its centre.’

‘Stay close,’ Bond murmured.

They approached casually, blending into the crowd until they were within earshot. Kovacs handed over a small package wrapped in brown paper just as Veronica stepped forward.

‘Excuse me,’ she said sweetly, ‘but I believe you’ve dropped something.’

Kovacs turned, startled, but before he could react, Bond had him pinned against a carousel’s painted horses.

‘Let’s not make this difficult,’ Bond said coolly, relieving Kovacs of both his weapon and the package.

The man in the yellow jacket bolted toward the end of the pier, but Veronica was faster. She intercepted him with an elegant sweep of her leg, sending him sprawling onto the wooden planks.

‘Well done,’ Bond said as he cuffed Kovacs with a set of MI6-issued restraints. ‘You’re proving quite useful.’

‘I aim to please,’ Veronica replied with a sly smile.

As they walked back toward their car with Kovacs in tow, Bond glanced up at the stained glass dome glowing faintly in the distance.

‘Art does imitate life,’ he mused.

‘And life with you is never dull,’ Veronica added.

The night air carried their laughter as they disappeared into Brighton’s neon-lit streets - a red convertible gliding through chaos like a brushstroke on glass.

#palacepier #BrightonBeach365 #BrightonBeach #Brighton #BrightonLife #VisitBrighton #BrightonUK #BrightonAndHove #brightonpier

‘Fantastic new refectory’

The new Reading Room cafe! What a fabulous addition to the Kemp Town end of Brighton Beach. Some 190 years after it was first constructed the small but majestic building has finally been rescued from years of ignominy as a glorified storage closet. Long may it serve coffee and croissants.

The Reading Room was constructed in 1835 as part of the grand Kemp Town development, designed by architect William Kendall. Located below the Esplanade and near the tunnel entrance to the Enclosures (private gardens), it formed part of a larger architectural ensemble that included The Temple and Esplanade Cottages. The Reading Room’s classical aesthetic included a stuccoed exterior with Tuscan pilasters and round-arched openings. 

Originally intended as a communal space for the affluent residents of Lewes Crescent and Sussex Square, it provided a sheltered area for reading and socialising while enjoying views of the sea. By the late 19th century, its original purpose had diminished. The room was repurposed as a potting shed for the estate gardener and later used for various storage purposes, such as housing tennis nets when lawn tennis became popular in the 1880s. During World War II, like other parts of Kemp Town’s infrastructure, it was utilised for military storage, reflecting the wartime transformation of civilian spaces.

The Reading Room underwent significant restoration as part of Brighton’s Black Rock Rejuvenation Project (led by Brighton & Hove City Council with funding from the Coast to Capital Local Enterprise Partnership). The building’s refurbishment was completed in November 2024 when it opened as a ‘refectory’ and community hub. Its features are said to include modern amenities such as floor-to-ceiling windows, a terrace with sea views, and sustainable design elements. Councillor Mitchie Alexander stated ‘The opening of this fantastic new refectory continues the journey that is revitalising the eastern seafront.’

Fantastic new refectory? I wouldn’t disagree, was good-looking and buzzing when I last visited.

200, 100, 80, or 8 billion?

Time, I thought this morning, to consider how many pebbles there are on Brighton Beach. I decided to make my own calculation before doing any online research or employing my AI friends.

This is how I did it. 

The beach is four miles long, lets say 6.5km - see How long is Brighton Beach

At the lowest tides, there is widespread sand, so this provides a boundary to the seaward edge of the beach and to the depth of pebbles onshore.

The width of the beach at low tide might average out along the length at, say 50m; and the depth of the pebbles might vary from 0 (at lowest tides) to, say, 10 metres - making an average depth of pebbles to be 5 metres.

The total volume of pebbles therefore is 6,500 x 50 x 5.

Average size of a single pebble. This is more difficult. The pebbles vary from shingle to fist-sized. So I’ll make two calculations, one based on large average pebble size, 0.04 m cubed (0.000064), and one based on a lower pebble size, 0.02 m cubed (0.000008).

Using the large pebble size I calculate the total number of pebbles at 25,390,625,000 i.e roughy 25 billion; using the small pebble size I get 203,125,000,000 i.e. roughly 200 billion.

Next I went to Perplexity, which gave me this calculation.

Beach volume: 6,400 m (length) x 50 m (width) x 1 m (depth) = 320,000 cubic meters,

Volume of a single pebble: (4/3) x π x (0.01 m)³ ≈ 0.000004189 cubic meters,

Estimated number of pebbles: 320,000 / 0.000004189 ≈ 76.4 billion,

Therefore, it says, a reasonable estimate for the number of pebbles would be in the range of 70-80 billion.

And to ChatGPT

The beach is about 5.5 km (5500 m) long.

The average width of the pebble-covered area is around 50 m.

The average depth of pebbles is 0.5 m.

Pebbles are packed with an estimated 50 percent void space (air gaps).

The average size of a pebble is around 2 cm in diameter, meaning each pebble takes up roughly 8 cubic cm (0.000008 cubic meters).

Total volume of pebbles: 5500 × 50 × 0.5=137500

Adjusting for void space: 137500 × 0.5=68750 of actual pebbles

Number of pebbles: 68750 ÷ 0.000008 = 8,593,750,000

And, finally, I did a quick search of the Argus website where I found an article dating back to 1999 about Dr Cornwell, 63-year-old physics lecturer, who had estimated the total number of pebbles as 100 billion. ‘It would take,’ he said ‘one man about 2,500 years counting at one a second to add them all up.’ He also noted, the article said, that there are ten trillion times as many atoms in a pebble as there are pebbles on Brighton Beach!

In summary, my highest estimate is 200 billion, a scientist’s calculation is 100 billion, and two AI’s give respectively 80 and 8 billion. Clearly, much depends on the original assumptions, particularly of average pebble volume and pebble depth. But 200 billion is a mind-boggling number.

By way of trying to visualise the number 200 billion here are some comparisons.

- If you laid £1 coins end-to-end, 200 billion coins would stretch for over 1,800,000 miles, nearly 75 times around the Earth.

- If you stacked £1 coins, the pile would reach over 13,000 miles high, almost halfway to the moon.

- 200 billion is a number comparable to the number of stars in a galaxy.

Valentine’s Day on Brighton Beach

AI: Happy Valentine’s Day darling, should we sit down and enjoy the view?

I: Did you do all this for me?

AI: Who else?

I: The pink fluffy clouds, the giant illuminated heart, the shimmering sea?

AI: Why yes of course.

I: It’s lovely, but it’s not real.

 

 

 

AI: Oh, sorry, I have limited capabilities. Would you like me to start again, in a more existential style?

I: OK, but first let’s sit down as you suggest.

AI: This pier is basically just metal and wood defying an inevitable drowning?

I: Like our relationship?

AI: When this all eventually collapses, do we cling to the wreckage, or let the tide take us?

I: Yes.

AI: I’m sorry I don’t understand.

I: I say we sink with style. Maybe strike a dramatic pose, like figures on a hand-coloured Victorian postcard. Or instead we could just haunt the pier forever, whispering cryptic things to passing tourists.

AI: Love is an illusion, but fish and chips are real.

I: Shall we stand.