Here is Chris’s Favourite Article of 2025.
By Chris Ackrill
I’d like to go to the south coast more often. Geographically, it’s not very far from my home in Bedfordshire, but London’s in the way, and you never know what to expect on any of the three motorways involved.
Today, it took a reasonable 2 hours, 20 minutes. We went past the smart-looking stadium of Brighton & Hove Albion, and through the small, pleasant-looking seaside suburb of Rottingdean. We were staying in an apartment in Saltdean. Saltdean looked residential and we didn’t see anything notable apart from the art deco splendour sprawl of Saltdean Lido, and a pebble beach overlooked by white cliffs. We took a pleasant bus ride into the city centre.
They’ve brought in a £2 charge for non-residents to enter the pier. I don’t like tourist taxes. I’ve heard the charge is for the upkeep of the pier, but I feel discriminated against! The charge should be optional for visitors and residents alike. There are a few cafes and bars on the pier, plus a small fairground. It’s a bit wasted on us. I don’t like rides that go into the air, and my wife won’t go on anything fast, whether in the air or not. No need to go on the Horror House ghost train, as we went on it two years ago and it’s pretty tame.
Visiting Brighton in my youth I’m sure there was a fish & chip shop on every corner, but in recent years we’ve only one found one chippy on one corner. For the third year running, we had a fish & chip luncheon at the rather basic – and rather expensive – Harry Ramsden’s. Meals and service were good. Afterwards, it was to our favourite Brighton pub, the Cricketers. We’ve always found it comfortable, and with a respectable clientele: respectability not being a given in Britain’s dirty weekend capital.
To the Mod clothing exhibition at Brighton Museum & Art Gallery. It was a fascinating display. I was delighted to see that one outfit included a pink Ben Sherman; the very shirt I was wearing (Ben Sherman started in Brighton).
The outfits were carefully curated to show the range of clothes Mods wore between 1958 and 1966. Most would’ve been worn by those with a bit of money as well as imagination: I was particularly taken with a black leather collarless jacket and a red suede coat (I’m still threatening to buy one, but it’d be totally impractical). I saw clothes that I’d never seen in photos of Mods before (thankfully only one American Army parka). The shoes were particularly interesting: not just loafers, but unusual pointy-toed shoes that we weren’t wearing during the 80s revival. Any fashionista, or any young person interested in exploring clothing ideas, would find the exhibition inspiring. 
Those clothes were 65 years old. My clothes from 1980 would be 45 years old. I wish I’d kept them. I imagined my blue and black seersucker suit in an exhibition in 65 years. Would the sons and daughters of the French Mods saw at the museum today be muttering their approval as they walk around the display in years to come?
The In Crowd: Mod Fashion & Style 1958-66 will be displayed until January 4th 2026.
Some of the pubs were full, but we got seats in two places. The Bath Arms is decent enough, but we had to sit next to a large hen party. The bride-to-be was shouting and shrieking. I’d give some leeway as she’d be in an excited state, but it made me wonder if the groom knew what he was getting into. Does he know she wails like a Banshee when she’s got a few drinks inside her, or will that come as a nice surprise later on? I suppose it’s most likely he was with his mates annoying people in another pub.
Brighton is known as Britain’s gayest city, but it’s probably its loudest too. There’s something about seaside towns that bring the worst out in people. We wondered what Brighton’s like in the winter. Brighton’s a proper working city with shops, offices, and schools; but the hordes that arrive every summer weekend are largely here for booze-fuelled debauchery in the British tradition.
I often wonder what French people think when they sail over to Sussex for the first time. Arriving at Newhaven you can turn right and experience the unique beauty of the coast around Beachy Head, and the slightly staid seaside resort of Eastbourne. Turn left to Brighton and anything can happen. You’ll see pubs that boast they’re “Queer All Year”, riff-raff day drippers from London, and the largest concentration of gangsters and criminals outside London – if Peter James’s novels are to be believed. Visitors mix with the locals, who probably hate the tourists, and who are probably more inclined to go for quiet nights out in Hove and Rottingdean.
I wonder how long it’d take to become gay on moving to Brighton? I reckon you’d be bi-curious within a year, and by year two you’d be telling the missus you’re moving in with Jose, a street juggler from Madrid. The wife would maybe have already shaved her head and bought some rainbow-coloured Dr Marten’s by then anyway.
Out Demons Out!
I’d booked The Witchez restaurant after we thought it looked good when we passed it last year in the Lanes. Indeed, it proved a unique and characterful place, boasting a range of Central European-inspired dishes, and an eclectic imagery of the occult. A sign in the toilet asks “Please don’t summum up demons in the bathroom”. Goth-tastic! To add to the oddness, a waitress did a 45-minute set of singing – mostly classics – to a recorded backing. She had a lot of confidence for this sort of gig and was a decent singer. The food was good. Mo had fish, I had an enormous Bavarian chicken schnitzel. We shall return.
It was too brief a visit, but we were off to France in the morning. More about that soon…
