I felt a touch anxious about sending my parents to Brighton – a place that mixes rough edges with considerable charm.
This was because they hail from somewhere where an unknown vehicle pulling up is enough to make neighbours peer through their windows and the local parish bulletin reaches more readers than most national newspapers could dream of achieving.
There is a specific sense of disloyalty that strikes a northerner when relocating to the south. Mostly because joining in with northern friendliness becomes tricky once you have packed your belongings, travelled past the Watford Gap and chosen to earn your living somewhere surrounded by plant-based milk alternatives and ocean swimming.
So, while my parents believed they were enjoying a pleasant few days visiting their daughter who had left home, they were simultaneously carrying out a thoroughly impartial investigation aimed at confirming what they had always maintained: the North is superior.
I was destined to lose this particular battle.
In the spirit of thorough reporting, I immersed them immediately with no assistance whatsoever.
To my astonishment, they managed reasonably well. Mostly.
Unfortunately, their stay coincided with an extreme heat warning. Every few minutes, I was quizzed about whether Brighton is always this scorching, as though they had somehow ended up on a plane bound for Guatemala rather than travelling with Southern Rail.
No matter how many times I explained that the whole nation was gradually dissolving into the tarmac, I suspected they privately remained convinced that Sussex exists in a state of endless Mediterranean torment.
So, let us explore what impressed them and what disappointed them.
What disappointed them
The gulls
Which is rather fitting because, fundamentally, they are not unlike my relatives. Noisy. Opportunistic.
Though perhaps it is simply devotion to their daughter, considering the incident when I sustained an injury from them.
We found ourselves captivated by the luminous gulls as they settled on the Pier’s illumination
Observing me instinctively reaching for my phone whenever an emergency services vehicle passed by
Old habits persist and switching off remains impossible. The work group chat requires updates, even if it means abandoning a restaurant mid-bite to pursue a police car down the street.
What impressed them
Having a caricature created on Brighton’s beachfront.
It simply felt like the quintessential British coastal experience even though none of us departed with our pride intact.
Two rather anxious subjects for the caricature
Nothing beats a late-night boost in confidence
Saltdean Lido.
Along with everyone else in Sussex. I nearly got my head injured by a flying inflatable ring. We both glared at the gathered crowd, waiting for whoever was responsible to confess, until we realised the perpetrator was a six-year-old who could barely stay afloat.
The salt water proved essential during the heatwave
Rottingdean.
Mostly because a pleasant breeze existed there. Throughout the remainder of the week, every gentle gust of wind was unfavourably contrasted with Rottingdean’s. It had established an impossibly demanding benchmark.
The Queen of Rottingdean
Brighton’s street art.
Every surface displays something painted upon it. Occasionally stunning murals. Occasionally… less flattering anatomical representations.
They both appreciated the creative works throughout Brighton’s streets
Finding shelter in increasingly absurd locations.
At one stage, my mother genuinely proposed placing her head between two rocks because she suggested it would be cooler in there. By this point, only the second day of their visit had passed, and she was making survival choices based largely on reptile behaviour.
Seeking refuge from the intense sun
Pointing out the obvious.
Apparently maturity makes no difference. I might pay rent, possess a career and live independently, but my mother still felt compelled to alert me to the presence of a step. I will concede that occasionally this proved even useful.
Questioning everything.
It was not merely the temperatures creating potential danger to life. Disagreements between us sometimes escalated to critical levels too. I suppose because I have written articles about this county, I became some kind of walking Sussex reference source for them.
Why does a random windmill stand near Roedean School?
Who holds ownership of the pier?
How far is the bus journey to Lewes if we board the number 12 instead of the 72?
I fulfilled the role of tour guide, historian and geologist simultaneously.
We found ourselves at the Pier most evenings
Eating at identical establishments repeatedly.
One cannot simply savour a meal and treasure its recollection in my family. Every single item on the menu requires personal verification.
Therefore, when I noticed my father taking appreciative gulps of his lunch at Garden Café, I recognised I should settle in there. When they had their first taste of the Algerian lemonade at the Blue Man, the decision was final.
The stroll from Rottingdean to Saltdean.
Mostly because benches appeared at regular intervals to permit recovery.
I took my mother to visit Rudyard Kipling’s former home for an authentic Sussex education
The buses.
Punctual, scenic and, most crucially, equipped with air conditioning.
The Lanes after dark.
Once the city ceased its attempts to cook us alive, it genuinely became delightful.
Appreciating the independent retailers of the Lanes
A Brighton education.
Brighton is undeniably distinctive. It represents the sole location where you can pass a Regency townhouse, an artisan bakery and a painting of an enormous phallus within approximately thirty seconds without anyone expressing surprise.
They might not acknowledge it openly, but I believe Brighton won them round.
Not sufficiently to cease their habit of declaring that northern areas were superior every half hour, naturally.
Certain traditions prove simply too sacred to abandon.
PS: Sincere gratitude to my print editor, Steve, for constructing their complete schedule so they could relax in the evenings knowing I had no involvement in any planning choices whatsoever.