A Happy Birthday, sticky balaklavas and the sea

Dear god I should really be more regular with this stuff, I'm missing out on details by leaving such large gaps between blogging. Lets see how I go with that resolution shall we?
Now, where have I been of late? Well lots of places actually, but lots of little places, much exploring of little bits of London. Its an activity I could well spend forever doing and still not see everything. I finally made it to the British Library last week for one thing. I have to find out how I can get a job there so I can be there every day. Right smack in the centre of the building itself is a four story glass cube which contains 'The King's Collection', which is basically the collected library of King George the third. He donated it to the British library on the stipulation that his books be kept separate from all the other books, which takes elitism to new heights one might conclude. Endless shelves of books suspended behind glass, tantalisingly, its almost voyeuristic in some strange way but maybe that's just me. Books are meant to be read I think, so just displaying them like that is like seeing them crucified. They want you to read them, crack their spines just a little and give them the perusing they so guiltily desire. Ok, clearly that's just a me thing. Do go though if you can, they have a copy of the original Alice in Wonderland, Alice's Adventures Underground, that was handwritten by Lewis Carroll and given to Alice herself as a present. Clearly she fell on hard times as an adult after the death of her husband and had to sell her copy which ended up being displayed at Columbia University in the US before it was purchased by a group of American business men and then given back to the British Public “in recognition of the publics bravery in facing Hitler before the Americans joined the war”. Aww, generous and a teeny bit patronising.
We were down that way originally to check out an open day at The School of Life which is an enterprise started by Alain De Botton which aims to offer pragmatic and considered solutions to leading a more fulfilled, spiritual, physical, political and social life. They have all kinds of books and classes which you can buy or sign up for, some struck me as interesting and others less so. I think that's possibly a good test of what it is you might be lacking in your life, like cravings indicate difficencies. I was drawn more to the political stuff and the things about how to have a satisfying work life, the purposes and benefits of work beyond a pay check. The School of life is located in Marchmont st and there happened to be a street festival there that weekend, it was just a little local community thing but there were a bunch of little book stalls and Russ bought me a beautiful copy of Jane Eyre from one of them. We found a little collection of food stalls in a court just off Marchmont street where we bought Baklava to feed Rusty's new found addiction (I got him hooked in Brighton but he can never remember what its called) and I got some beautiful aged balsamic and lemon infused olive oil which sounds incredibly yuppyish I realise, but I like balsamic vinegar damnit.

My biggest trip lately though has been to Brighton. It was Rusty's birthday this month so as a little present I organised us a trip to Brighton. I was dying to go myself and he hadn't been in years.
I found this hotel called the Artists Residence which is an art gallery and hotel where the artists decorate the rooms in their own styles. It makes for somewhere totally unique, interesting and colourful to stay and we loved it. The room we stayed in had a balcony so at the end of the day of wandering and in the morning as we made our plans for the day, we could sit on the balcony listening to the seagulls and watching the sea gnaw on the bones of the old west pier.
Our goals when we got there were simple, have fish and chips on the beach, count waves, find a cache, see the pavilion and the lanes and go visit the Cowley club. The Cowley club is a libertarian / anarchist bookshop which was named after a man called Harry Cowley who was a grass roots activist in Brighton, campaigning for things such as cheap food and practical aid for the poor and aged. The waves we counted on our first day, crashing round the ankles of the west pier, now all but claimed by the sea. We also ticked off the fish and chips on our first day as well, though found much better ones on the second day. Rusty found a cache in a big piece of public sculpture on the seafront that was crawling with muggle children, he was really stealthy about it, I was very proud.

We wandered down the seafront on our first say, past endless rows of market stalls selling all kinds of pretty at all kinds of prices down to the kitschy glory of Brighton Pier, if you dont go for the chance to hurk your fish and chips on an unsuspecting spectators while strapped to a stupidly scary ride 100 foot in the air, go for the people watching. I have no idea why but I have never seen so many women in stilettoes in my life, promenading up and down the pier, orange, sausage legs crammed into a podiatrists nightmare, tottering up and down the pier dodging fallen battered sausages and molten fairy floss. We fled and watched the sunset from the beach with our fish and chips.

Day two we walked back along the now deserted beach, the bank holiday was over for most and we felt like the only ones left after the party. We made it to the Royal Pavilion, the former seaside resort of King George the fourth when he was just the Prince Regent and had more time on his hands. Its a pity they didn't let you take photos inside, the music room was amazing, I didn't want to leave it. You'll have to go looking on the net for pictures, for me to try and describe it would not do justice to either it or my memories. Such a lot of walking though, wandering all over the pavilion and the gallery next door and then around the lanes finding somewhere for lunch. Neil, my GPS, seemed to crack the sads with us on the second day as well and so was prone to lead us off on tangents because we weren't paying him enough attention. Some people might put that down to poor satellite reception due to building obstruction but where's the fun in that.

I wondered how much it would be like St Kilda and it has to be said that there are similarities, its akin to visiting your great grandmother and observing how much your sister looks like her.
I have missed the sea though, we'll be going back there in a few weeks for a day trip to check out more of the lanes and spend a little more time in the Cowley Club.

So from here my next big trip is Melbourne, back for a month in December I am. Will be interesting visit Melbourne knowing that I'm only there for a short time. I'm hoping that it gives me a new perspective on it, I have taken for granted what I know of Melbourne. I'll have to grab the kids and go exploring again.
Ah blogging I've missed you, I wont leave it so long next time. xxx