Today (pretend it's Friday) we took the train to Brighton, a seaside town on the southern coast of England. It's known for being adorable and charming and small. AND for being referenced in Pride and Prejudice. But we didn't find Darcy there. On the train ride down (by the way, I'm really enjoying the fact that all of England is accessible by train. And that the people who check our BritRail passes never sign off the dates we use them, so we paid for a 4-day pass but essentially get unlimited rides) nice and short, and the views out the window were pretty. Rachel bought a bag of Quavers from the push cart and I tried them for the first time. BEST. CHIPS. EVER. Officially obsessed.
When we got to Brighton, we walked down to the Cathedral and the gardens in front of it. Then crisis struck: my flip flop broke. The part that holds the two straps in between my toes came out, so it barely stayed on my foot. I looked very awkward when I tried to walk with it, and since the sidewalk was kind of dirty (and I didn't want to give the British people the wrong impression of America) it would have been weird to go barefoot. Luckily, Rachel so kindly offered to carry me, and we walked through the streets of Brighton piggyback, thus giving the British people the best impression of America everrrrrr:
We found a shoe store and I bought myself a pair of replacement shoes, and I was able to walk like a normal person again. We walked by the ocean, which was really nice, and then headed back inland to find our very first pub. We found an adorable looking one called Waggon and Horses. Yeah, two g’s. Could it be more legitimate? We went in and Rachel bought Cote and me our first legal beers! Good thing we get another shot (literally?) at first legal drinks a couple months after we get back. We each got a half pint of Kronenbourg to honor Alice. Here we are, sippin’ on our dranks:
The most exciting part of that pub visit, though, was the part where a really drunk, belligerent man was thrown out of pub and arrested right outside (by two bobbies! That’s one of my favorite British words). He would have knocked into me on the way out, but I moved just in time when I saw him coming. Yet another crisis averted.
The rest of the night was pretty relaxed: we took the train back and saw cows on the way! Love cows. Then we stopped in a pub in Clapham called Avalon (which reminds me of the club in Boston…but that’s okay). There I tried cider for the first time. I like. After that, we went back to Kathleen and Dave’s new house, which is actually a mew. Besides the fact that mew means tiny house, it is also the sound a kitten makes. This just keeps better and better. To top it all off, when we got to their mew (aww) we found that there was a friendly tabby cat sitting right outside! So we named him Hugo and proceeded to take way too many pictures of him. Here’s one of him, looking fierce in the night:
Seriously though, I have about 10 pictures of this cat on my camera. And they’re allll going on Facebook when I get back.
Hello! This entry was extremely entertaining and lovable! For many reasons and they are listed hence forth:
ReplyDelete1.) That you looked for Mr. Darcy. You have bewitched me body and soul my dear Victoria.
2.) Rachel bought a bag of Quavers from the push cart.>>umm so BRITISH! I want to buy things from a push cart! I go on trains every dayyy and there are no push carts. You are so lucky, too bad Rachel isn't a fan of Harry Potter, she probably would have appreciated buying something from a push cart ten times more.
3.) Drinking KRONENBOURG! worrrd! I hoped you enjoyed it, though I know Cote isn't a fan of beer much, but I hope you forced her to drink it ALL.
4.) Cows are cool.
5.) MEW. I can't decide if I like bobbie or Mew better as a English word. I will have to contemplate on this.
6.) Hugo is a cat. A cool cat.