Not a working day for me, or for my old mate. I’ve been in Brighton a while now, but I haven’t been into town. Today was tourist day.
It’s a good day to do the tourist stuff, a Wednesday. Since I’m usually working weekends I like to try and take space when everyone is working. And it’s the solstice. The longest day. Still a lot of summer left but they start to get shorter now.
There was plenty of alcohol today. Morning margarita on the beach. Then Craft Beer in flights. Small glasses of many varieties. We had a table booked for half two and I was already concerned I would sleep through lunch when we arrived at The Ivy Asia. It’s a ridiculous place. Ill fitted trippy uplit green floor tiles and absurd finery. “Stolen from The Ivy Asia” say the napkin rings and chopstick holders in what I assume must be encouragement even though we don’t succumb up temptation. A monkey holds up our lettuce. We stuff our faces.
Downstairs in the loo, someone has placed a very lifelike rubber samurai in front of one of the urinals. Upstairs, everything is spicy and over-presented. This place is both fabulous and awful. I had a great time. Lobster and duck rice. Black miso cod. Ribs. Decadence! Sheer unmitigated decadence.
Sake and Singha and we go stand in the sea awhile. We walk down the shitty pier. Then up into town to have ice cream and then to Plateau for natural wine and clean cocktails.
By the time my friend got back on his train I was surprised I could still function. I wandered homeward, fed the cat, had a hot bath and now I’m going to sleep the wonderful happy sleep of someone who has done something, even though I’m truth all I’ve done is eaten good food and had a little bit too much booze on a Wednesday. Still I’m tired and replete and very very happy to have spent time with my old schoolfriend and felt a connection and a truth.
AlBarclay 