Quick run to windy Brighton

Huge wind in from the sea. The distant electronic thumping of beats from one of the local clubs. Low cloud and light pollution but the air is not so cold that I can’t sit here a moment, at the top of the Madeira Lift. It’s a Victorian elevator, closed for COVID but have they reopened it yet? These benches around the side are convenient on sunny days for sitting and boozing. If it was still tonight I might have had some energetic company incoherent company. As is it’s almost too windy and too cold for me to be here. Almost. But not quite.

And as I write three local kids have made it clear that this is where they want to light their spliff. They have a bluetooth speaker and are trying to stand facing into the corner and shielded in order for the fire to take. It’s so windy, and through their eyes I’m the weird beardy guy with his hood up. I’m cold anyway. I’ll go sit in Bergman.

I just got here to Brighton from London post ghost walk. It’s a habit I need to get back into. It’s twenty past eleven and we finished about two hours ago. Lovely audience and I just blitzed up afterwards. Sea air and good company. She’ll be asleep when I get up there, but it’s still worth the effort to go up and sleep warm with her. Lone sleep is a different sleep from the sleep we have in proximity to others. It’s good to have a bit of both. It’s good to know we aren’t alone, even if it’s just being banged into or grunted at at 3 in the morning.

I will barely see Brighton this time. Back up to London tomorrow morning and another walk Saturday evening. Just for now though, at the turning into darkness, I can be outside in the wind here and admire the huge sea without getting so cold I can’t think. Oh God winter is coming. The clocks will steal the light soon. Hex is still lost in the bones of an underfloor, my body is behaving strangely and Christmas Carol is cancelled. This has been a shit week. This is another reason I’m in Brighton. With all the shitshow at home I wanted to connect to her as a beacon in my life. She’s working her fingers to the bone up there making costumes for Christmas shows, but we have allocated tomorrow. I wanted a sleep as well as a day. A bit more time. A bit more connection. Humanity.

And on that note, that’s enough with the writing. I’m gonna head up to the seaside home of om and fluffy cats. Enough wind. Enough Friday night Brighton. Peacetime.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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