By Chris Ackrill
Saturday August 29.
Our fourth Brighton Mod Weekender, and another wet one. We were booked into a hotel just outside the city centre. It wasn’t a proper hotel, but one of those old houses split into multiple rooms. In these places I always expect to see Rigsby on the landing, complaining about Alan’s long hair. There’s no reception, just those confounded press button entry systems. Thankfully, the night before I was sent an email with the front door and room code numbers. I’d paid £12.50 for a 24-hour parking pass. We secured a residents’ parking spot opposite. Too early to check in, so walked into the city centre.
There were only about twelve scooters in evidence in the traditional meeting spot on the seafront. It was drizzling. There were some stalls selling 60s gear over the road at a tacky bar. I’d long considered the feasibility of running a dedicated Mod table next to my stall of antique silver, but without the facilities to display clothing, it’d be difficult. I noticed one stallholder had a gondola basket on display. I’ve sold a few of these, but I’m not going to get far with a few shopping baskets and some target badges.
The day continued in a pattern familiar from the past three years. We found a pub open before noon for an inaugural drink, then around to Harry Ramsden’s for fish & chips. Harry Ramsden’s isn’t the glamorous experience the Guiseley flagship branch was in my student days in the mid-1990s. The meals were good, but over twenty quid for a plate of cod and chips?
Ain’t it Funky Now
Went to the funky North Laine area. Here, things feel smaller and more discerning. More counter cultural. This neighbourhood offers a different shopping experience to the city centre. Independent businesses rub shoulders with corporate chains, and the area has a nice vibe to it. I’ve never been to San Francisco, but I imagined I was in Haight Ashbury in the 1960s. I bought some cheap bangles at an antiques centre. We secured a table at the Heart & Hand; a small, traditional, pub. There were a lot of Mods there, with English, Scottish and Irish accents. The Stones were belting out Jumping Jack Flash, and we had the Small Faces, PP Arnold. The hum of conversation marred my enjoyment of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid a bit.
The Coast is Queer
Booted and suited, we set out to find a pub. Brighton is known as Britian’s gayest city for good reason. Every year I chuckle at the sign in the window of a seafront pub; “We’re Queer All Year”. We saw a poster today which we thought was even better: “The Coast is Queer”.
Most places were rammed. The empty pubs looked like they deserved to be. Got in at the Pump House. There were a few Mod types. It was mostly the women who made the effort, We were disappointed with people for not dressing up for their special weekend. There was a skinhead couple of about my age. He had the mutton chop sideburns; she had a close crop with two long sweeps of hair on each side. I admired her bold statement, Mo thought it was awful. For me, the statement was let down by dull clothing. A nice two-tone skirt suit would have made her look the business. He just looked like Pop Larkin.
Outside, a large group of women in country music gear convened. Dolly Parton’s Nine to Five started up, and they all began dancing in formation. It brightened up our day before we reached our next destination.
It’s All Right, Ma, it’s Only Witchcraft
Around the corner to The Witchez. We visited this fantastic and unique restaurant last year. The black-clad waitresses call themselves witches. Almost everything is black. The place is (reasonably) tastefully decorated with witch/goth/macabre artefacts. There are lots of skulls and skeletons of small animals. A sign in the toilet asks: “Please don’t summon up demons in the bathroom”. I expect it’s popular on Halloween. Not to everyone’s taste, but it’s comfortable, friendly; and with good service. The food’s great too. It’s Central European oriented. As last year, I had the giant Bavarian schnitzel. I mused how chicken schnitzel/escalope seems to have become a bit retro now.
Sunday
Although I’d taken time off from running a stall at antiques fairs, our trip turned now turned into a working holiday when I found out there was an antique fair on. At Brighton Racecourse we paid £5 each to enter. The fair had only been open twenty minutes, but I’d never seen a fair so crowded. On some stalls you couldn’t get your eye in because of the crowds. There was lots of quality.
£300 later I came away with a mother of pearl handled magnifying glass, glass scent bottle, cats’ eye sunglasses, silver & agate pendant, large violin brooch, small gondola basket (a bargain at £10!); and my flagship piece, a heavy pair of asparagus tongs. I got this exquisite piece for £200, good value for 172 grammes of antique 1866 silver.
We were bound for Guernsey today, so set out for Gatwick, aiming to stop at a country pub for lunch. It wasn’t yet noon, but I spotted an open pub door in a smart suburb of Brighton near Preston Park. The Park View proved to be a bright comfortable pub. We managed to secure one of the two unreserved tables. We both had roasts. Yesterday, I wondered when I last saw chicken escalope on a menu. Well, it was on the menu here! I later had a chicken escalope in Guernsey, so maybe this delicacy isn’t so retro as I thought it was. Anyway, I envied those who’d call this pub their local.
So, another very brief visit to Brighton, and more rain. One year we’ll get it right.
