Burning of the Clocks
The longest night, and so it was The Burning of the Clocks. A very pagan-seeming ritual, but only begun in 1993. A big parade of the clocks and bands of samba drummers, people wearing spooky faces, and on stilts etc. through town culminating in music and pyrotechnics and stunning fireworks on the beach below Madeira Drive. Thousands of people come to watch it, and it is yet another reason I love Brighton so much. Lorraine and I went with Dawn and Cath to watch the parade, and then the fireworks while we sipped hot mulled wine opportunely scored from a stall on the street. When it was all over we repaired to warm ourselves in the Basketmakers where I consumed an enjoyable few beers, and basked in the attentions of three ladies.
Otherwise a rich and bubbling cold, which I share with half the people in the UK. Taking care of business this morning, invoicing and some last bits of admin before I shut up shop for the year. Long conversation with Alexandra on the phone discussing future business, while walking around the shops with Lorraine in the afternoon. We bumped into a friend called Guy, who I don't know well but always like when we meet, and he made us laugh talking about the perfect cardigan he'd seen which cost £210, but added ruefully, 'Champagne tastes, and a beer budget'.
Below photos of the parade. All these clocks end up being burned in a huge bonfire.
The longest night, and so it was The Burning of the Clocks. A very pagan-seeming ritual, but only begun in 1993. A big parade of the clocks and bands of samba drummers, people wearing spooky faces, and on stilts etc. through town culminating in music and pyrotechnics and stunning fireworks on the beach below Madeira Drive. Thousands of people come to watch it, and it is yet another reason I love Brighton so much. Lorraine and I went with Dawn and Cath to watch the parade, and then the fireworks while we sipped hot mulled wine opportunely scored from a stall on the street. When it was all over we repaired to warm ourselves in the Basketmakers where I consumed an enjoyable few beers, and basked in the attentions of three ladies.
Otherwise a rich and bubbling cold, which I share with half the people in the UK. Taking care of business this morning, invoicing and some last bits of admin before I shut up shop for the year. Long conversation with Alexandra on the phone discussing future business, while walking around the shops with Lorraine in the afternoon. We bumped into a friend called Guy, who I don't know well but always like when we meet, and he made us laugh talking about the perfect cardigan he'd seen which cost £210, but added ruefully, 'Champagne tastes, and a beer budget'.
Below photos of the parade. All these clocks end up being burned in a huge bonfire.
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