Brighton Rocks.

There was no boys beano to Brighton this year.

14 years in the making and anyone who ever had a kickabout at Great Marlow School on a Friday afternoon went down to Brighton for a day of drinking and laddishness. This year it was cancelled.

NO gutbuster at the Station Cafe. No meander through the lanes from the Bath Arms, Druids and Sussex. No Quadrophenia moment. No Budvar bar or dip in the sea for those of us who would go for a swim of the unforgiving stoney beach. No trip along the pier for chips and then the knockout round of shots at Horatio's bar until we begin the slow, march back to the train station (no more including the queens head) but to the Cube and the Dorset before the safety of a snooze on the train whilst cuddling a kebab and a six pack of lager.

Having got out of hospital on Monday, my wife had promised me a trip down to Brighton if I was up for it. Up for it? There was no way that I wasn't going to be. On the morning of the trip down by car we listened as to how the council at Brighton had made the 6th biggest profit in the UK for car parking charges. We drove through the speed regulated roadworks with it's tickertape sign showing how pleased it was that 426 people had been caught speeding. I kept looking but still could not see a "Welcome to Brighton sign"anywhere.

We found parking for £1 an hour near Sainsburys just to the North of the station. It took about 2/3 minutes of walking until I found familiar territory and felt at home in the hot sun.We found the shops this side of the main road. the shops where Chris Howells had wanted to go and buy fireplaces/ hearths on the first ever Brighton as a load of them were on display in the street. The same year that he lost his hat when it was blown off whilst on the pier.

We walked through the lanes to the Bath Arms or the Jenga pub as still known even though it is now many years since the giant Jenga blocks have been there. Loose the Jenga drink a forfeit...normally a baileys and black currant which curdled badly. We moved on. it was only now through sober eyes that you notice that every shop is an antique jewellers shop selling rings of extraordinary value. Past the Quaker house which I have not noticed for 14 years. We stopped at the small square behind the Druids and had breakfast at a cafe next to a fountain filled with frothy foam. We were stared at constantly by a seagull that was eyeing up the rind of bacon that I had cut off.

I had been in this square before as on occasions I had broken away from the troops in order to go and sort out some tomfoolery or other.

Buying a white and blue lace panty set and getting pictures of people holding it up behind Rossi without him noticing.

Getting a plain white T-shirts and a bunch of felt pens to make a tshirt for the idiot who left his at school. Getting a small game of Jenga on the year we found out that Jenga was no more at the Bath arms.

Getting loads of long thin balloons and making balloon animals (or just stuffing them down the inside of our shorts)

Going to TK. Maxx to get sports socks as Guy had admitted his fear of Ghostly sports socks that moved in the night.

Getting colouring books and pencils so that we could do some colouring in....cos that's what geography teachers do to get their kids to GCSE level. the look on a young lads face when Rossi passed them his colouring book and pencils as a gift was loneley. Who doesn't love a bit of colouring in.

Sheena went to Monsoon and a variety of other shops because it was hot and sunny and they were there. We walked on to the beach. this time we walked down past the Budvar bar. I did look. The bar appears to have no name other than a number 186. Further along is a lovely bar called the fortune of war which is larger, much more friendly and not much further out of the way....it is big enough to have a double window upstairs to accommodate our larger numbers....note to Guy.

We walked on past the little ships with their soothing bells ringing gently in the sea breeze. On to the old pier. The shame of the pier that had fallen into disrepair and finally burned down. It's rusty carcass, a reminder to those who look west from the new pier of the fun that will never be had.

Back onto the pier where we listened to tunes from the pier d.j. operating from a little shack at the end of the gents toilets near Horatios bar. It was unusual coming back off the pier to look at a hotel which had a I true of Santa I the 33 degree heat to remind us that it was taking Xmas bookings.

We went to the Brighton Pavillion. It took me till about year 10 or 11 to realise where exactly it was as our drunkenly staggered route has changed over the years. The bar with the jugs of cocktails which should be easy money for an almost empty two story pub/club at 5pm has turned us away for too many years as we don't pay with a pink pound.

I listened to a woman looking up at the Pavillion extolling to her friend that for years she thought it was a mosque. The was a wedding party being photographed in the hot sun outside. There was a Selfish Giants maze......we didn't partake. The kids were all enthusiastic....but the title and the diagram outside gave it away. Yes it's a maze but.....you can never get to the centre so you can never see what's in the middle...because he's a selfish giant who can see from above.

I never really noticed the Art Deco bus stops before but they are so nice that I wouldn't mind waiting for a bus there.

Back to the lanes and up past a pub that we tried to get into once. The Bath arms was still closed so we turned right and went up to a pub that refused to serve us as hey didn't do groups. "What makes you think that we're together?" Said I as 15 blokes in bright orange polo shirts with a football on the belly came in.

Sheena was in her element as she found a Persian restaurant just round the corner from the top of the Main Street. Watching her taste buds ooh and ah as she savoured even each little mouthful of Iranian rice.

We headed slowly back to the car via Bert's emporium where I bought a coffee mug and got sheena two little windmills that she was going to sit in the window box outside her study.

We then drove out to boundary road in Post Slade as a nice Iranian lady in the restaurant had said that that was the place to get Iranian cooking ingredients. again....wife in a happy place.

The drive back was met with M25 closures and M11 blockages so we went cross country through back lanes but wending our way homeward slowly but surely. We arrived about an hour later than expected but wedding end up at home.

Some idiot had not put sun tan cream round the edge of the neck of his T-shirt so had a bit of a retro football top look when I took my shirt off.

It had been a nice day. A day that was unhurried and relaxed and gave me an appreciation of things that I normally passed but did not look at. I though of 14 years of boys beans and gave myself the task of finding all of my photos and putting the into albums if I can find them and taking a back pack next year with all the history of the day trip that I have.

Last year we met a small group of pensioners and joked that that would be us in a many years time. It turned out that they were lads from the same football team who were doing the same thing that we had done every year but now they were down to just 6.

History eh!

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