"If one could but go to Brighton!" observed Mrs. Bennet.

Four fun-filled days at the seaside in Brighton was just what the doctor ordered! Wait, didn't the doctor also order some sunshine? It rained most the time...but usually only during the day when I was sitting in a conference listening to academics talk about academic things. I was also one of those dull sorts of people - I presented a paper about Thomas Whythorne's manuscript and it went well. Meanwhile Marc sat in local cafes full of old men reading books and did the same. I got a grant to go to the conference which means? All free, ahhh I do love free.

I have formed a pretty firm opinion about academics. I have decided that academic conferences are just like any kind of gathering of like minds -- Star Trek conventions, flute camps, stamp collecting expos -- any gathering of people who have reached a mockable level of obsession with any particular hobby. Academics just like to pretend that their obsessions are more respectable than other hobbies, but, you know really, they're not.
This is the "pleasure palace" King George IV built when he was prince. What do you do when you have all the money in the world and nothing to do until your crazy Dad dies? You do whatever you want. And I like to think of this palace as a Prince's version of a lego castle. It's huge and absolutely amazing inside - it's all elaborate chinese and Indian-inspired architecture that really just looks like some rich jerk said, "I want a massive palace with gold ceilings and secret passageways and the world's biggest kitchen and the world's best chef to cook me disgustingly elaborate feasts." And that's pretty much what happened.

Marc on our balcony overlooking the sea and the famous Brighton Pier. Ahhhhhh

I love those nights when you decide to eat whatever you really feel like having for dinner no matter what it is. On our last night, I got a smoothie, and Marc got deep fried bangers and chips. Yeah, he's eating a battered, deep-fried, massive sausage. mmmmm.


Olivia Meikle said...

Okay, Marc is officially a Brit if he would voluntarily choose to eat a Banger. Yucko.

Man, I want to go to Brighton!

Ryan (Ranger) said...

They come deep fried!?

Marc said...

You betcher Yankee britches! Er, Canadian...