A Copenhagen travel diary

This was first published in 2011 – so some things may have changed since then!

Copenhagen was recently chosen as the third most liveable city in the world after Helsinki and Zurich by Monocle magazine. That might have been based on principles that benefit the inhabitants more than visitors, but eagle-eyed tourists will spot what makes Copenhagen such a success as a city. Most obvious is the prevalence of bicycles: imagine the number ridden in Cambridge quadrupled and you’ll still be far off the total here. As a short break destination, Copenhagen has a lot going for it. The city aims to be carbon-neutral by 2025. There is a passion for good quality food: a ‘fat tax’ was recently introduced on ingredients like butter, but there are bargains to be had when eating or drinking. It is an attractive city with a wonderful waterfront location. Public transport runs like a dream – even if it is costly – and the whole city seems to cater for people, rather than being as stressful and unyielding as London can be. Danish design is another reason to visit, with beautiful design stores in abundance, such as Royal Copenhagen’s ceramics.

The city centre is handsome, and no visit to Copenhagen would be complete without a visit to Nyhavn, the 17th century canal and street lined with boats and brightly painted buildings. the street itself doesn’t have any unmissable sights on it, but it is immensely pleasurable to stroll its length.

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For these clearly positive sides to Copenhagen there are also oddities. For example, smoking is permitted in bars of less than 40 square metres, but it seems the law is left unchallenged in larger bars. This approach is presumably part of a liberal agenda where people are free to do as they wish, but it also seems quite regressive when many other countries have passed successful anti-smoking laws that attempt to accommodate everyone. We saw one man unzip and urinate wildly on the escalators of a busy metro station. It was unexpected and disappointing to see this in the middle of the city centre.

This pales into insignificance next to Christiana, where archaic ideas such as smoking bans and drugs laws don’t apply. Christiana is a commune that the Danish Government has allowed to flourish intermittently over the past 40 years. The Social Democrats allowed the old defence ministry land to be slowly taken over by people who have transformed the area into an enormous autonomous ‘city’ as part of a social experiment. As Governments and priorities have changed, Christiana has found itself to be both a mark of a liberal country and a pain for residents who have to put up with the drugs trade in the area known as Pusher Street. The previous centre-right Government was close to tearing Christiana down and forcing massive construction on the area, but over the summer of 2011 this plan fell apart. Now the residents of Christiana are to buy the place from the Government cheaply to be given a high degree of autonomy from the state. If you needed something to make you realise the difference between Denmark and Britain, this is it. Christiana is worth a visit to experience it but you might just see what we did: namely, people sitting around listlessly drinking and smoking weed. And some militant chaps who definitely don’t want you taking photos. Somehow, I missed the many signs and got told off.

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The only photo I managed to take of Christiania!

Of course, Denmark is visibly wealthy and happy. Forbes recently calculated that Denmark is the second-happiest nation on earth, thanks to low business start-up costs, excellent education and a lot of freedom. Education – even at PhD level – is free and the welfare state is very generous. People say the Danish tax rates are high, and they progressively climb to 51.5 per cent. They are designed to operate in such a way that earnings are equal in the nation, meaning a banker won’t expect the massive bonuses people get in Britain, and a teacher won’t feel much worse off.

On the waterfront

On the waterfront

The Vesterbro area mixes hipsters with drug dealers and prostitutes, giving it a distinctive feel. It is undergoing the predictable wave of renovation and gentrification that moves the original inhabitants on, but there is a still a real feeling of industry here that defines the area. In the middle of this is Le Le, the very popular Vietnamese restaurant that has a 20 per cent booking and 80 per cent walk-in policy: if you want a good chance at eating there you should book. When we went it was almost entirely full, although there are plenty of small bars in the vicinity if you do end up waiting for a seat. The food is delicious and reasonably priced, with Vietnamese staple pho bò at around £13 and wonderful cocktails around the £8-10 mark.

There is a word in Danish for being cosy, comfortable and content. That word is ‘hygge’, and relates in some way to the long winters. Hygge is apparent in cafes across the city with blankets on chairs outside and candles everywhere inside. Lonely Planet offers a guide to getting cosy in Copenhagen, but my tip would be to add Paludan to the list. Paludan is a bookshop and café where the walls are lined with beautiful old books and there are cosy seats everywhere. The food and drink menu is great and you could easily spend a happy few hours here enjoying the atmosphere. A city centre café that is reminiscent of a grand café you might find in Brussels is Café Norden, which comes with stuffed deer heads on the walls and a menu that offers coffee and cake in the day or heavier stuff in the evening.

A very handsome man! Oh, it’s me!

Another Copenhagen gem is Cofoco – Copenhagen Food Consultancy – which allows you to eat great three-course meals at reasonable prices. We booked for Public House and ate the duck rillette, the main course of chicken and shallots in a paprika sauce, and the chocolate cake with raspberry sorbet. The menu changes frequently but there are three or four options for the meals, and at £28, it won’t break the bank. We had this with a Kir Royale and two glasses of wine each and the bill still came in at under £50 each.

Copenhagen offers a decent-sized gay scene: on our trip we only tried Can Can and Centralhjørnet, both in the city centre. They were both friendly and unpretentious, and Centralhjørnet excelled in playing three Abba megamixes and four Kylie tracks in a 90-minute period. Don’t say cheers when you can say skaal!

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For an excellent art fix, Arken currently has three world-class exhibitions that all offer something really different. There is a Damien Hirst exhibition running until September 2012, showing eight pieces of his most important works including his biggest dot painting to date – made especially for the exhibition – and his cow in formaldehyde. There is also an impressive Warhol and Basquiat exhibition, the first time their collaborations have been shown in Denmark, on until January 2012. The most exciting piece is by Olafur Eliasson, a local artist who has had major exhibitions all around the world, including the giant sun of The Weather Project in the Tate Modern Turbine Hall. His work is often focused around the elements, and this installation, Din Blinde Passager, sends the visitor into a long plywood tunnel, immersing you in a thick fog. As you go through the tunnel, the light changes, at one point plunging you into almost total darkness. It’s a genuinely exciting piece of work that plays on our fears of being unable to find our way around but it also professes to discuss the idea of utopia.

Copenhagen is an undeniably enjoyable destination, but it has a fight on its hands to claim the crown for most exciting Scandinavian capital. Oslo, Helsinki and Stockholm all rank at the top of the league tables of best cities in which to live, in countries that all figure highly among rankings of the happiest people. If you long to visit this part of Europe for a short break, Copenhagen cannot disappoint: it is wonderfully multicultural, tolerant and cheap to get to. However, for longer trips, Stockholm has the stunning archipelago, Oslo has access to the fjords and Helsinki offers a tempting high-speed train link to St Petersburg. Indeed, you might enjoy this slice of Scandinavian life so much that it will be impossible not to explore more of this fantastic region.

Photos from my visit are here.

Stockholm in the Autumn

My landing to Stockholm’s distant Skavsta airport was accompanied with necessary drama by John Grant’s Black Blizzard playing on Spotify. Through the clouds came a countryside aflame with the colours of Autumn, with additional synthesiser fanfare. Minutes later, a walloping wind buffeting the plane’s descent had Grant howling about eternal winters to soundtrack my terror. Bumpy landings and I don’t get on, but Sweden and I get on just fine. My third visit to Stockholm, once in the depths of winter, one in the middle of summer and now in Autumn confirms its standing as one of the most beautifully sighted cities. It is built on fourteen islands, so access to water and woodland is as easy as finding a cinnamon bun. Stockholm’s jewel in the crown is the spectacular archipelago of 25,000 islands heading east into the Baltic sea, where 50,000 holiday cottages dot the landscape. If you ever have the chance, board a ferry to one of the islands. You won’t regret it.

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Stockholm is a perfectly proportioned capital, its size making it a haven for walkers if you don’t want to use the excellent public transport system. It’s less pretentious than London yet the occasional glimpse makes itself apparent whenever you see the sign saying “Stockholm: The capital of Scandinavia” which is hardly going to get the neighbours cheering you on. And come to think of it, all the coffee shops are as obsessed with damned filament lightbulbs and deconstructed brickwork as everywhere else. And the hair – so fussed over…but enough.

The old town, Gamla Stan, is where I head to first to meet my friend who recently secured a job in the city. We eat at a decent Thai restaurant where a meal of chicken satay, rice and salad and a coke comes to about £12. Sated on satay, exploring Gamla Stan and the more historic parts of Stockholm is a joy. Even under a gun metal sky, it lifts the spirits, but in Autumn sunshine, it is spectacular. The terracotta buildings of Gamla Stan are deeply atmospheric and the mixture of government and Royal buildings mixed with smaller residential buildings in a warren of streets makes for a great opportunity to wander aimlessly. I walked from the cosy cafe Fabrique on Lilla Nygatan towards the Royal Palace, all austere and somewhat clinical as all palaces seem to be. Some streets would lead you to believe that Stockholm’s main economy is tourist tat but it’s easy to find a quiet street to cut through if you can live without reindeer toys and t-shirts declaring your love for Swedes.

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Across the Strömbron bridge and onto Södra Blasieholmshamnen leads you towards Skeppsholmen, home of the modern art museum, worth a visit just for the gallery shop. Galleries always have the best shops, and this one has a particularly good selection of posters of past exhibitions. The view from the Skeppsholmbron (Skeppsholmen bridge) is a delight. Standing in the centre of the bridge you will enjoy 360 degree views of the city and the water around you where I took a moment to just enjoy the view and relax. To be in a city centre, hearing horns blare and knowing hundreds of thousands of people are around you and yet feel completely alone is rather surreal.

The next day, in search of a cinnamon bun I could tell the grandkids about, I headed to Kafé Esaias on Drottninggatan. Heading north from Sergels Torg, the street is dreary at best and plain grimy for a long stretch until the central shopping district thins out. It is a reminder that city planners can really balls things up. Finally, I reach Kafe Esaias and feel that this cinnamon bun is well earned after all that urban decay. Good news – it’s one of the best cinnamon buns I have ever had. My grandkids will definitely be hearing about this cafe, and if I have to hire grandkids to tell my story, so be it. I sat in the cafe for a long while, enjoying the atmosphere and the coffee before working out what to do next. Then I sat a while longer and came to the realisation that I have a great aptitude for just sitting.

Forcing myself back into the city, I settled on a walk to the Vasa Museet – a museum dedicated to a ship that capsized and sunk on its maiden voyage in 1628. The walk takes you down Strandvägen, a picturesque boulevard that is part harbour and part esplanade. In the beautiful light of Autumn, Stockholm was ravishing and Strandvägen banished all thoughts of Drottninggatan from earlier in the day. Stockholm uses its waterfront exceedingly well and boats of all sizes are present, but the closer I got to the Vasa Museet the more it became clearer that only the mast of the boat was visible with the rest of it encased within a large building. It really is a fascinating museum, and I now get why people say it’s worth setting aside half a day for. Entry costs SEK130 (£11) but you get a seriously comprehensive museum which explains why the boat fell over as soon as it launched from Stockholm harbour, in slightly inclement weather. It’s a classic tale of pride, greed and ego overtaking common sense. Common sense would be making sure your boat has enough ballast to keep it on an even keel in a storm. Common sense would be to say to the King that the boat wasn’t ready, though King’s of old were never known for their gentle temperament. The boat had beautiful sculptures on it, all to add to its sense of greatness and when the cannons weren’t visible, you’d have mascarons of fierce lions staring you out. Seeing this up close is very special; time has been kind to the boat and the sculptures are remarkably detailed to this day.

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Everything about the Vasa was about power and superiority, but this is also a story of human ingenuity. When the Vasa was rediscovered in the 1950s, they decided to lift it (apparently the filling it with ping pong balls or freezing it in a block of ice weren’t very practical) by spending two years digging tunnels underneath the hull and then slowly moving it to shallower waters using two pontoons. The museum has excellent visualisations of this, to show just how incredible the raising of the Vasa was. The reason that there’s anything resembling a ship left is because the Baltic is brackish and in these waters, a shipworm that would usually feast on the wood was not present. What’s left is sensational; indeed, I read that over 95% of the boat is original and the visitor is left with an intriguing point that this boat was one of a kind and had it successfully set sail, we wouldn’t be left with this incredible wreck to marvel at.

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If the Vasa museet is Stockholm’s must see attraction, there are plenty of other museums and galleries still worth some of your time. I found the photography gallery, Fotografiska, to be a diverting spot for a couple of hours – of course it had a great shop attached and a brilliant location near the socialist utopia/concrete hell that is Slussen. Many people find the gallery by following the road that clearly leads to it, whereas I clambered over road works and found myself trapped by a cliff on one side and a metal barrier to the other, so don’t take that route. With a rotating selection of exhibitions, you’ll find the majority of the space taken up by a major exhibition with smaller displays on the upper levels. At SEK 120 (£10) it can’t possibly match up to Vasa museet, but the gallery does hold some impressive events to make a visit worthwhile.

My journey back to the airport included a last stroll from Sodermalm to Riddarholmen, with the wonderful Riddarholm Church as its focal point. Yet again, it is mildly surreal to be in the centre of a city that feels so quiet and close to nature. Despite some fairly calamitous attempts to turn the city into a concrete mess, it stills feels manageable in scale and somewhere ideal for fans of walking. In fact, there’s a Swedish phrase “Lagom är bäst”, which is translated as “the right amount is best”. Perhaps this is a good way to sum up the reason that Stockholm is such an attractive proposition.

With its waterfront and islands, Stockholm easily offers up one of Europe’s most beautiful capitals and with the added bonus of the archipelago, the question isn’t are you going to visit, but when are you going to visit?

This is worth the flight alone.

This is worth the flight alone.

A weekend away to…Sussex

It must be a universal trait to grow up thinking your country is the best at everything; the most beautiful; the fairest and the one everybody would die to live in. At some point, around the time I got the travel bug, this illusion was shattered. I’ve been to Norway and seen some sensational natural beauty, I’ve been to Georgia and seen the Narikala fortress looking over Tbilisi light up at night, I’ve seen New York and Florence, soaking up the amazing things man can create. And so my belief in Britain’s supremacy at just about everything exists only in a loose sense of national pride, but sometimes I get a reminder of just how enchanting England can be.

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For my 34th birthday, my boyfriend took me to Sussex and I fell in love with my country all over again. Our trip started at Ditching Beacon, where top of the world views were promised, only to find it was a pea-souper which lent the walk a mysterious quality, with brief glimpses of the steep valley below, a patchwork of fields, roads, hedges and small settlements. Along the walk, we came across a dew pond, a small pond dug by farmers to ensure their livestock had something to drink. With a backdrop of impenetrable fog and trees angled like something from a German expressionist film, the pond took on a dramatic turn equal to a Shakespearean rant or a setting suitable for Cathy to haunt Heathcliff.

Ditching beacon, at its highest point a modest 248m, sums up England’s appeal. Beautiful without being overbearing, intimate in scale, accessible to almost everyone and like being given a warm embrace. I love the fences and gates to clamber over, the brief hello’s you give fellow walkers, the inevitable visit to a pub with a roaring fire or a spacious beer garden. Walking the modest routes of England can induce a looseness in the gait, or as some call it, “feeling relaxed”.

After being startled by an exuberant giant dog twice walking from the foggy Beacon down to Ditchling, we composed ourselves and walked to the village where we ate at the White Horse Inn, a 12th century pub and B&B featuring the ubiquitous yummy pulled pork and such food. The barmaid was a  model of efficient loveliness; capable of playing with children and serving adults at the same time. Next door to it is a striking old building, with fascinating external features like a staircase going up to the first floor. Most people put them in the building, but in this case, it works a treat. As ever with afternoon visits to pubs, I am almost overcome with slumber so the idea of walking back up a mountain (I said it was just 248m earlier, but it’s at least 1000m after booze) did not appeal, so we took a cab to the Beacon. After numerous people said “what is Ditching Beacon?” like it wasn’t a massive hill overlooking the town, we resorted to trusty Google maps. 

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The Catt Inn at West Hoathly

Our trip went onwards to The Cat Inn, in West Loathly, a village of just 2000 people set amongst rolling fields and densely wooded areas. In the manner of all gorgeous English villages, it features a smattering of medieval buildings, wonky walls, lovely village churches and a reminder of a great Doctor Who quote about village life:

The Doctor: So, what do you do around here to stave off the, you know…

Amy Pond: [finishing] … boredom?

The Doctor: [simultaneously] … self-harm?

Because as much as villages are a treat for the eyes and soothing on the ears, they have the potential to be crushingly dull. But, short terms stays allow leisure to lead the way and a preprandial wander around the village took us to St Margaret’s Church with the most remarkable graveyard I’ve seen outside of Paris’ catacombs; a terraced graveyard over six levels, planted with many species of trees and flowers. You encounter some stunning views of the Weald and onto the South Downs at the upper level. Nearby is Priest House, a 15th century hall house with a garden of over 150 herbs.

The Cat Inn is everything you’d want in a village pub and more. First off, seeing one of the kitchen staff picking herbs from the garden just fills me with pleasure. Secondly, it has been awarded a Bib Gourmand, something I have become obsessed with. The rules of Bib club are simple: good food, three courses, under £28. Thirdly, the staff were unfailingly friendly in a way that is disarming to London folk and fourthly, their rooms have a Nespresso machine in. I’m easy to please, but I’d also add that the bed was like a wonderful cocoon where sleep-dreams are made. Not actual dreams, but the sleep of your dreams, ensconced in a cosy and airy duvet and sinking pleasantly into the mattress.

Onto the food. I had a starter of Spiced Falafel, Aubergine yoghurt, Roasted Tomato and Harissa, where the tomatoes burst open with glorious flavour and all the ingredients worked together like the best of friends. The main was a Pork and cider pie with mouth-watering pastry that was delicate to the knife without any dry flakiness. It came with a rich gravy, always-brilliant swede and carrot mash and Sussex greens. By the end of the main I was pushing my body into awkward shapes for the pudding to fit in. But it was worth it. Sticky Toffee pudding, a treat as ever.

This was all washed down with some of the best English wine I have ever tried, and I have tried a lot as is my patriotic duty. We had a superb white Pinot Noir (it is a thing, and is something like a blush rose wine) from Albourne estates, a local vineyard. As with most English wines, the flavour is sweet, delicate and carries a mineral essence. It is also a richer, more punchy wine than England’s cool climate usually produces. This one had a delightful personality and at £24 for a bottle, is good value for a restaurant.

My lottery millions will buy me this

My lottery millions will buy me this

The next day, refreshed from bed of sleep-dreams, Nespresso and excellent full English, we headed to a truly remarkable National Trust site. Wakehurst Place consists of a relatively interesting country house, laid out by someone without knowledge of how country houses should look. The clown, for instance, saw fit to shove two chairs facing each other into a window bay, which you accessed by getting round the back of another table and chair setup. What an intense home. The gardens and the Millennium Seed Bank are what it’s all about. Set amongst nearly 500 acres, there is a nature reserve, ornamental gardens, wetlands and woodlands, it is a one-stop guide to landscapes and views. The Himalayan Glades was particularly fetching, with the tallest Douglas fir reaching 43 metres, which would loom over Rio’s famous Christ the Redeemer statue. The route around Wakehurst Place is in a meandering horseshoe shape, with great variation in trees and plants. You could easily make a day of it.

The Himalayan Glade

The Himalayan Glade

Our last stop of the weekend was The Bricklayer’s Arms in Chipstead. We booked in advance, and it was hugely busy when we arrived past 2pm. There’s a reason why, this is the sort of place where you eat the food and question why it’s not always like this. The Sunday lunch was terrific, with the chicken being cooked on the bone and the roast potatoes having that essential mix of outer crispiness and inner softness. A gravy boat reminded us we were eating brilliant food that was down to earth and the pudding were classic British treats. By the meals end, my food baby was doing well and gurgling contentedly.

Wakehurst Place

Wakehurst Place

All weekends have to end, but this was a special weekend that will remain in my mind for a long time. My bloke got it spot on that I’d want to be tramping around soggy England because there’s so much going for it, from the countryside to the food and the innumerable excursions to be had. Even  with visibility at less than zero at times, Ditchling Beacon was beautiful and everything we did was full of charm. What more could an Englishman want?

A little trip to… Cardiff

Caerdydd – it’s Welsh for “what a great city”

I’ll be honest with you, whoever you are, I’ve been to Cardiff twice and not explored enough. I’ve not been to Castell Coch, I’ve not been to the valleys, I’ve not even been inside Cardiff Castle. Am I a bad tourist, or is Cardiff just entertaining enough as a weekend break to make these other destinations a trip for next time? Probably a bit of both…

Oh yes, I’ll be visiting again. I think I’ve developed a bit of a crush on Cardiff and now I want to see more of Wales. There is much to see; people have been tripping over themselves to announce the Gower Penninsula as literally heaven on earth, when my Nan was alive she told me “you’ve not lived until you’ve been to Rhyl”, then there’s all them mountains, poking up into actual space where aliens and rockets are.

On this trip, I got to Cardiff the only way that seems to make any financial sense; on Megabus for £13 return. A train there would easily cost £50 return! My delightful friend Ben was accompanying me for the weekend; and we titled it LADS ON TOUR! (evening) and GRANS ON TOUR (daytime) as we’re both a bit old and can’t physcially drink for two days solid.

Walking through the University and Civic Centre immediately reminded why I like Cardiff; much of the city is gorgeous to look at. In fact, the Civic Centre is described as “the finest civic centre in the British Isles” by the Pevsner guide to Glamorgan. Spaciously laid out and elegant, it’s wonderful to walk through and surprisingly quiet in the evening.

We started the weekend at The North Star which had a great selection of ciders, but perhaps the worst mashed potato I’ve had since I was forced to eat the stuff at school for punishment. I say mashed potato, I’ve no evidence a potato had ever been near it. And yet, the steak and ale pie was yummy. So near, so far! After this, we got a taxi to town, only to realise that The Cardiff Arts Institute was a) close by and b) I didn’t want to get stiletto heeled to death in some damn O’Neills hell-hole. Having been there before, I found it to be a perfect Friday-night drinking den; the music’s not so loud you get laryngitis and well, it was only partially full so easy access to the Mojito’s. We found some lovely but slightly unhinged people to talk to. Nutter-on-the-bus syndrome… On top of this was some truly dreadful rapping but the upside is that I realise I quite like hip hop – who knew!?

Welsh cakes are good cakes

The next day, hangover-free-ish, we wandered around town and found amazing Welsh cakes in the market. As you can see, they get through an unholy amount of butter making these things but they taste so damn good, diets can go to hell. We also explored the arcades, which is perhaps one of Cardiff’s best assets; there are more Victorian-era arcades in Cardiff than anywhere else in Britain. Sadly, there are plenty of empty shops which if I had the money would house my bookshop and cafe (this is an original idea!) and I’d happily lose money to be amongst the splendour.

Following this, we found ourselves at Cardiff gay pride. Ben had never been to one before; I warned him it was a fête with more whistles than is strictly neccessary but he was insistent, well, sort of. It was indeed full of whistles but more importantly a Pimms truck which took the edge off the “diva” – read this as drag artist spewing forth abuse at all around – shrieking show tunes. Truly horrific. We made our escape in daring fashion by taking the waterbus down to Cardiff bay which was mostly cordoned off for some Red Bull thing. Happily though, I found the wonderful shrine to Ianto from Torchwood!

With most of the bay fenced off and walking the five metres from the Senedd to the amazing Millennium Centre taking twenty minutes, we gave up and had yummy Turkish food and then headed to Cardiff Student Union for the DJ Shadow gig – he was inside an amazing sphere!

After the gig, which was wonderful with an audience that clearly enjoyed the lot without getting lairy we headed to a Cardiff institution; Clwb ifor bach which initially played good tracks before lurching into that terrible affliction of playing only tracks EVERYONE KNOWS. Sigh. But Bowie, M.I.A and Metronomy later more than made up for it.

On Sunday we were able to see the bay properly. Below is a selection of pictures of the adventures we had there! Look at them, then immediately go to Cardiff and enjoy!

 

The Norwegian Church

Roald Dahl Platz

 

A little trip to… Brighton

As you walk down Brighton’s pier, you enter a realm that time forgot – or pretended it forgot but actually loves ‘cos it’s secretly ace – The Dome! Inside this dome are games for the stingy (me) and the nostalgic. Alongside the Air Hockey which I lost 7-0 to the 2p and 10p slots, I found myself loving the sheer memories these arcades brought back to me; only, as a kid we never went anywhere like Brighton. I do remember being utterly miserable somewhere like Clacton pier as my parents pushed me onto a swing ride of death that seemed to jut out into the grey murky sea on a tremendously foggy day. As a kid, my seaside memories evoke terror and dread. As an adult, my seaside resort memories are a mixture of sadness for the loss of the glory days and an enjoyment of these innocent arcades, scalding cups of tea and constant fearful glances at vengeful Seagulls.

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In the Pier’s dome, the 10p slots only took old 10p pieces, as the new ones are too thick. It’s almost a metaphor for Brighton in 2013. The city might like to think it’s the coolest of the seaside resorts, but it’s still steeped in the past and it’s all the better for it. In fact, as soon as we arrived at the train station and bagged our M&S mojitos – hello you sweet, strong beauty – there was a city of two tales on display, from the football fans and ever-ready coppers to the dual protest outside a shop about Israeli’s making soda stream on Palestinian territory, accompanied by pro-Israeli’s and their own leaflets. Whatever is going on with soda-stream, I don’t think anyone in Britain is going to be cracking open the bottle of 99% fizz and 1% disappointment anytime soon.

As we headed towards the beach we went for Fish and Chips at Bankers, which did a cracking cod and chips for a fiver. The chips were moreish and the fish was a delight…but why should this be anything out of the ordinary? Sadly, Brighton seems to have a fair few chippies that rely on their location rather than their ability to cook. Bankers might be a little out of the way of the town centre, but it’s worth the extra 10 minutes walk.

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As we headed towards the beach, it seemed remarkably quiet for a glorious late summer’s day, but a look on the map shows we were just outside the main beach area, around the lawns near the Kingsway, itself just a stroll away from the first of the many restaurants along the beach front leading past the hulk of the old pier. As you head towards the remaining pier, everything gets busier with throngs outside the usual chain bars and clubs pumping out questionable music even in the afternoon. Happily it’s not all hen do’s and staggering stags; the Artists Quarter offers arches full of local art and the quality I saw as I passed seemed high though I was rushing to see watery creatures at the Sealife Centre.

I don’t make a habit of visiting aquariums, but as teachers had a free entry in August, I was all up for it and the visit reminded me of how bizarre nature is. One fishy thing was just a block of muscle that presumably spends its life opening its mouth and hoping for some food to just appear, there were the cute little worms that pop up from the sand to stare and then the starfish. They may look cute but they eat their food by popping one of their many legs into the shell of their prey, prying it open and inserting their stomach into the hole in the shell. Then they liquidate the poor creature and suck it all up. I used to have a colleague who ate like this and it’s not a pretty sight.

At the Sealife centre I saw lots of Sharks not biting the heads off anything and it just reminded me that the whole world is a fraud. I wanted to see tanks of blood and maybe a giant squid attack. The sharks seemed pretty amiable but the Octopus’ were the coolest thing in the whole aquarium. In a quirky twist, the Sealife people decided to hurl a bunch of kids toys in the Octopus tank, perhaps to remind us how clever they are. That, or a mother really wanted rid of her kid’s toys.

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Post-aquarium we headed back to the sea, ran about in the sea until the pebbles hurt too much and retired to a pub in Kemp Town. After falling in love with a Pug and drinking some average wine, we emerged to darkness and into a takeaway Pizza paradise called Pizzaface. We had the Alberto, with Salami and Pancetta and fell into a bliss known only by crack addicts and people who just found an amazing pizza place. It was so damn fine, it requires a trip back to Brighton – no hard thing as Brighton’s charms grow on me every time I visit. It’s maybe not as cool as it thinks, a local quoted Nick Cave’s assertion that it was a culture desert, hen do’s were terrifying all in their wake, but it’s still a great place to visit.

A little trip to… Norfolk

Ah, Bank Holidays are beautiful things and 2011 has been a vintage year for them, as we have had 1 bank holiday for every 1/2 day at work. This statistic may astound some of you, but what is more astounding is that I just lied.

Lies aside, the August Bank Holiday is perhaps the most precious of them all, signalling as it does the end of the summer period and perhaps the beginning of needing to do some work. The horror! For my bank holiday, I researched into the best walking opportunities in England and aside from Devon, which has an incredible coastline North and South, Holkham Beach was mentioned a lot. The beach itself has walks advertised as two miles but the full extent is about four miles; it is simply enormous.
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There is a beautiful sense of space when you first enter the beach from Lady Anne’s Drive, and the options for exploring are seemingly infinite; you can explore the beautiful Pine woods that follows the beach all the way to Wells-Next-The-sea, head to the sand dunes which are a major feature of the beach, or walk to the North Sea which can take a good twenty minutes of ambling. The quality of the sea water here is nothing special, so for swimming there are plenty of other beaches nearby. For space though, I’ve really not felt anything like it before in the UK. A major plus, the size of the beach means that no amount of bank holiday tourists can really render this place packed. Perhaps the lack of amenities such as toilets play their part!

The area of Holkham and Wells is packed full of things to do, and Holkham Hall is definitely worth a visit; if you want to see the Hall and the Bygones Museum, you’ll be forking out £11. If you just want to visit the gardens that is free! The grounds of Holkham Hall were laid out by Capability Brown so are of course perfect. The gardens are large enough to hold a Deer park and mile-long lake within the bounds. 6094623012_4ab2aaa92c_b

There were moments on this visit that England really did seem to be the most perfect place in the world. The weather was a glorious mix of blue sky and fluffy cloud, the grounds of Holkham Hall oozed elegance and Autumn hadn’t yet robbed the trees of their leaves. The coast was hypnotic; I briefly questioned by obsessions with travelling the world, but only for a few moments.

So, all is well in albion and you’d think things couldn’t get any more adorable? You would be wrong! Aha, there’s Seal spotting to be had from Blakeney Point which was so much better than I’d have expected. We went with Beans’ Boat Trips and for £9, got to be terrified by the choppy waters in a boat that seemed safe but played havoc with my general distrust of water. The journey out to Blakeney Point was idyllic, and we slowly made our way out towards the sea past hundreds of boats, getting wetter with every splash from the sea water. I had very salty lips. As we got within viewing distance of the Seals I gave up being terrified and stood up in the wobbly boat, just enjoying the view. Seals are great – apparently Blakeney Point usually gets about 250 seals out, and we only saw about 100 but it was still a thrill to see them all, looking totally silly; they are basically a cute head and a tube of fat but who can fail to love them? Answer = nobody.

During this brief time in Norfolk, I was consistently impressed with the natural and man-made beauty of the area that I’ve come back to The Chilterns, no slouch in the beauty department, feeling a bit sad, which is always the sign of a good break.

If you are reading this and have spent the LAST bank holiday of the year sat in front of the telly eating crisps, shame on you!

A little trip to…Dungeness

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Flowers in the desolation

Being of sound body and mind, I found it desirable to visit Dungeness nature reserve on a hazy spring day. The journey there was a testament as to why people drive cars. I got a tube to St Pancras, a Javelin train (so smooth! so quick!) to Ashford, where I was born, and then a slow train to Rye. This was followed by a lovely lunch and cheeky half pint at The Ship Inn before a bus to Lydd, followed by another bus to Lydd-on-sea.

From here, we were able to head to the enormous and frankly, weird, beach which headed down to the sweet humming symphony of Dungeness Nuclear power station! A coach load of Americans stopped off for a brief look at the Nuclear power station. They asked us why we were there. We did not know why.

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Bizarre abandoned beach full of old stuff
Rye - one of the prettiest towns you'll ever see
Rye – one of the prettiest towns you’ll ever see
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Wicked cool caravan
Lighthouse family
Lighthouse family