Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside, and while Edinburgh is theoretically a seaside city, it really doesn't feel like it (even if I can now see the Firth of Forth from my new desk at work - so near, yet so far!) so it's been nice to swan off to the two very different coastal towns this month. First up, Gullane. What, where, why? Well, it's a town on the coast to the east of Edinburgh that's surrounded by golf courses, made up of pretty houses, cute little shops, a few non-golfy green spaces and, past a maze of dunes, a gorgeous beach of proper sand. Being the middle of March on the east coast of Scotland, it wasn't sunbathing weather, with some distinctly blustery gales roaring across the coast, whipping the sand dunes into an abrasive frenzy - incredibly refreshing, but not everyones idea of a good time. FWOOSH!
It's the kind of town we've been meaning to go to for years, yet never had a reason that really pushed us out of our weekend cosiness to actually make an effort. Until, that is, we saw Falko on Rachel Allen's Bake the other week, making a baumkuchen - a German cake made on a spit. Curiousity suitably piqued and wondering whether this could actually be an option for our wedding cake, we finally arranged to travel out to Gullane where Falko has a cafe & bakery. He also has one in Bruntsfield, about 15 minutes from us, but that's always busy, filled with yummy mummies and 4x4 strollers, just a little bit too noisy for my gentle noggin, so we'd been looking forward to seeing what the other place was like.
I'm pleased to say it's far superior, as long as you can find an empty table - on a Saturday morning the place was as heaving as a polite cafe can be. Too early for lunch, too late for breakfast, just in time for elevenses, we settled down to tea and cake (the former served with the best milk jug ever), but even that required some serious decision-making. The Lass went for this slice of chocolatey/fruity goodness, while I had the above, a Black Forest Gateau (that's Schwarzwälder-Kirschtorte to you, sonny) that had more flavour in one small forkful than in an entire frozen-food-section-bought BFG. This is cake done proper, a sensual treat to be savoured.

Mono, originally uploaded by beast love.
One week later and I was off to the seaside again, two train journeys across the length of Blighty to the south coast and Brighton. It's somewhere I've never been before, except in a genetic level (well, my parents met there back in the day) but as the best man for the wedding lives there and I've not seen him for years, it seemed about right I pop down there and say hello. Rather conveniently, one of my favourite noisy bands - the Japanese instrumental four-piece Mono, expert merchants of quietLOUDquietLOUD - were swinging through the city at the same time, so Friday night was spent having my ears soothed and battered by them. Superb, as always, and although it was a tremendous volume it didn't lead to ringing bells for the rest of the weekend. Thankfully they're not a very visual band and I was happy to just close my eyes for much of the show and just let the sound wash over me - with eyes closed, the music seemed that much larger, immense, coming from all sides rather than just the stage - since I was quite far back and there were people there with big hair. That or they'd brought along a mop with them to the gig and were holding it at head height, which is certainly possible. The venue, Digital, was fine enough, an impressive light show diminished by the ever-present illuminated name of the venue right there on the stage, and while there was audience jibba-jabba during the songs it wasn't too bad (though quite why the two people nearby who attempted to continue their conversation during the loud bits by shouting had even bothered to attend, I can't imagine).
I found Brighton to be a curious place to be. It's definitely well worth a visit but despite the coastal location and remarkable music scene I can't imagine ever having the desire to live there (unlike Gullane, which we would happily up sticks for). It's a town (okay, it's got city status, but certainly doesn't feel like one) with street after street of wonderful individual shops. The few I actually went to featured Moomins (Pussy home boutique), bogglingly luxurious chocolate (the painfully-named Choccywoccydoodah) and an absolutely superb tailors (Gresham Blake), but you could write hundreds of posts on the variety of shops. I certainly plan on going back there in the future with the Burd, since it felt strange being on holiday, if only for a weekend, without her, as though the experience was the lesser for not being shared. Soppy auld sod? Guess so. Strolling along the seafront was nice, looking out at the above wreckage of the West Pier, and though the pebbly beach couldn't compare to Gullane it certainly had more sunbathers (and no skin-lashing winds) even on a March morning. I was particularly impressed by the Earth & Stars, as right-on a pub as you could hope for with solar panels, organic ales and an excellent Sunday roast menu (the normal menu's not too shabby either), certainly one to come back to.
Still, there were elements of Brighton that didn't chime with me, though I suspect that says more about me than the town itself. It feels like a very self-indulgent sort of place, where the pursuit of pleasure seems to be the only raison d'etre (though even if it is, is that so bad?), like Blackpool but less red-top, more Guardian. There are strong echoes of the trendier districts of London throughout - no wonder, being just an hour from the capital by train - and in overhearing conversations I couldn't help but be reminded of Nathan Barley. I felt old there, not physically but mentally, as though I disapproved of something but couldn't figure out what, though seeing people spending large amounts of money on looking as counter-culture as possible rankled, as did the many Pete Docherty dressalikes. The influence of the pleasure-seeking Prince Regent on Brighton was examined with relish by Jonathan Meades on Abroad Again In Britain a few years back and I'd say he's right on the ball. Like I say, it's a fascinating place to visit, but live there? I'm just too much of a misery.











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