Brighton-ing up the weekend with friends

Ninesh and I have just come back from a weekend away in Brighton.
We were with friends from our student days.  
Friends who we have known for so long that our lives have become interwoven, held together by the threads of warm memories, shared dreams, dashed hopes, drunken evenings and the simple pleasure of each other's company.

When we first met, the 6 of us,  we were all young, free and single.  More than two decades later we are middle-aged, tied down and coupled. 
We have swapped gossip about last night's party and which pub to meet up in later, for talk about our children's GCSE options and our plans for retirement.
But there is something about Brighton that helps you to forget all that. 
Something about wandering along the sea front, browsing The Laines, watching through coffee shop windows or from cocktail bars as musicians, transvestites, old hippy dreamers and young trendy would-be-ers pass by.
 Something about it's bohemian vibrancy and colourful energy that pulls you in. 
You never know what street performers or artists you will bump into round the corner.

 Or what every day object or body part will suddenly become a work of art. 
Wandering through a tiny alleyway, we came across Jamie McCartney's body casting shop. There is not a single part of the body he won't cast for you. 
In the window he has a panel from his installation: " The Great Wall of Vagina." 

Some of The Great Wall of Vagina

It made us women blanche and our men pull out their cameras, while we chatted to the friendly artist, who almost convinced us that a group casting would make the perfect family Christmas present. ( You can even have it as a mug! )
" You'd be amazed how many people get it done," he said. 
" Are they waxed?" we asked, voices quavering.
" Mostly," he said, sipping thoughtfully from his mug of tea " but not always." 
That was enough for us. 
 We left the men chatting and went shopping. 
Consumer therapy and a bar of Montezuma chocolate is what you need when you feel faint! 
And that's Brighton. 
Even when it tries to shock you, it's done with a friendly chat over a cup of tea.  Everything is acceptable and nothing is impossible. 
And after a while you begin to believe it too. 
As the weekend wore on, we stopped talking about our children's exams or the woes of work or the daily grind that defines our lives.  
Instead we talked about the dream houses we would one day live in, the canal barges we would buy, the camper vans we would go travelling in.
 Because slowly, very slowly we realised that while we no longer believe we can change the world, there is, at least, still time for some of our dreams to come true.
As we sat over our very last cup of coffee together, we planned where we would meet up next year. London, Birmingham, Liverpool- but I have a feeling, it just might be Brighton.

Brighton Beach and the disappearing old pier