Memories of Brighton and Hove

Lately I have been thinking about Brighton almost constantly.

That sounds like the beginning of "Rebecca", doesn't it? I can hear my mother's voice now, dramatically, wistfully ... "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again ..." [insert silly snort of laughter here]

But in all seriousness, I cannot tell you how many things I've seen and heard that have made me think of Brighton and Hove in recent weeks. I keep reading names in books and magazines that remind me of the streets there. I saw a few shows on BBC America that featured the roads we used to walk along & even the grocery store where I used to shop. Also, Tim's mother moved to a new home west of Brighton this week. It's so strange to think that it's been 5 years since our summer there. Five long, long years full of more change than I could imagine, and yet more peace than I can possibly express.

Brighton & Hove are two towns on the southern coast of England that have grown together so seamlessly that you honestly cannot tell where one begins and the other ends. The only indication of change is a small tablet encased in the sidewalk along Western Road. Brighton gets all of the attention, but Hove is where you go to get away from the hustle & bustle and really relax (and see a handful of trees).

The truth is this: I was in horrible shape when Tim moved down from Sheffield to Brighton to take a new job. I was better than I had been in recent months, but still fragile. I had been battling the deepest depths of my suicidal depression. I was still having weekly counseling sessions with my therapist over the phone. I had just started taking Prozac. But in many ways, the move to Brighton was a major turning point for me. I was more isolated than ever there. We knew no one in that town. Very few people had our phone number (and with our terrible reception, it rarely worked anyway). And since Tim was going back to work, I would be left to my own devices for hours every day. I couldn't even get on the internet because the daytime charges were so outlandish. There were many empty hours to fill. It could have turned out very very badly.

But it didn't.

Brighton-&-Hove was where the healing really came to fruition. It was where I found the courage to strike out on my own, to explore. It was where I first took an interest in cooking. It was where I finally started returning the favor by taking care of Tim instead of him nursing me. It wasn't the most likely haven of nurturing and healing, what with all of the tourists and the raucous festivals, but it gave me just what I needed at a very tenuous time. For that alone, I will always love Brighton and Hove.

Today I scoured Tim's old harddrive and found these photos from our time living in Hove, just a few blocks away from Brighton's border. We have few photographs from those months, so I'm especially grateful to Tim for these.


This is the sea & the western sky in the evening. See those little things that look like birds hovering above the water? They're actually the kites from kitesurfers further down along Hove's seafront. This is also a good shot of the "shingle", which is what they call the millions of billions of pebbles that make up the beach. The great thing about this type of beach is that you don't get covered in irritating sand. The bad part is that it hurts like hell to walk on. Bring sturdy shoes. Really.


And here's a view of the promenade stretching to the east. See those colorful little storage huts? If you have $20-25 thousand dollars to spare, you can buy one.


Here's Tim sitting on the same groyne featured in the photo of me at the top of this post. Groynes are structures that jut out into the sea & are built in an effort to slow down erosion. This one, located roughly at Medina Terrace, is one of the largest groynes in Hove (most are too thin to walk on & there are numerous warning signs telling you to "Keep off the groynes!"). Check out a satellite view of this area & you'll see tons of groynes sticking out into the sea. Did I mention that I like saying "groyne"? Grooooooyyyyyyne!!!


Here I am, standing at the place where Adelaide Crescent meets the seafront. I don't know if it's obvious in this picture, but those beautiful Regency buildings curve out and make a "C" shape. That's the crescent in Adelaide Crescent. Immediately north of it is more greenspace called Palmeira Square. In these adjoining bits of greenspace, you will find trees! Yes, honest to god TREES! I was astounded at how hard it was to find trees in those towns. Is it any wonder that we ended up moving into a flat immediately east of Adelaide Crescent & Palmeira Square?


The white building on the left marks the eastern branch of Adelaide Crescent. Running between it and the creamy yellow building of Brunswick Terrace on the right is Holland Road. Just go up that road a few hundred yards and you'll find our place between the chocolate shop and the English language school. If you cross Western Road, you've gone too far. See? Easy peasy. You should stroll past it next time you're in the area.


Here's a postcard from the 1800's featuring the very same buildings. It's amazing that so much in life can change, but this place has barely been altered in 150 years. Change can be a good thing - my time in Brighton and Hove taught me that - but it's comforting to see that some things stay the same.