Unfortunately, I had the misfortune of coming down with a rather short but intense stomach bug early last week that had me home-bound and grateful that I lived within walking distance of a pharmacy. That is, after I finally made it back home to the flat. I have decided that there is possibly nothing worse than needing to be sick whilst travelling on a London tube. There are no quick escapes, no bins to stick your head in at station stops and sometimes no other option but to use your handbag instead of spraying fellow passengers with your digested breakfast. Possibly my lowest moment thus far.
During moments of complete weakness and feeling very sorry for one's self, it is inevitable that homesickness rears its ugly head and says hello. There is only so much comfort that dry white toast with a scraping of Vegemite can achieve, or the overwhelmingly kind offers from my flatmate Graeme to pick me up anything I needed from the shop. And as fabulous as things are over here I do miss friends and family back home like an arm and a leg, though they continue to be my constant source of love and support. I've met some wonderful people over here, but there's nothing quite like "clicking" into place with someone and being able to exhale and let it all hang out, much like the moment of relief that comes from undoing the zip of a tight dress after a night out.
Wallowing will never get you anywhere in life though, and sometimes all you need is a bit of fresh sea air to clear the thoughts and snap yourself back into a good head space. With hot weather forecast for Saturday I took the opportunity to escape to Brighton for a day trip.
Departing London obscenely early by British standards (9am), I arrived with all of the other obvious tourists and managed to enjoy the seaside before millions of people came to take up all of the pebble space on the beach.
Unlike Australian beaches, swimming isn't the main feature of a day at the beach at Brighton with most people more interested in simply basking in the sun and drinking. Drinking, drinking, drinking. Always, the people drink. Brighton has much more to offer though, boasting the world's first electric train and many laneways filled with boutique shops and market spaces that buzz with life.
No trip to the beach is complete without a meal of fish and chips and as a history student I'd done my research. I was not going to settle for mediocre, overpriced fish and chips in popular tourist spots. No sirree. This smarty was going to get herself the BEST fish and chips in Brighton. Good old trusty Google led me to Bardsley's Fish and Chippery, an award winning fish and chip shop which has been family-run for four generations. A good start!
A half hour walk from the beachside later, Google maps led me to a less desirable part of Brighton. A little disturbed by the amount of flesh being "all let out" and strange smells wafting from locals, I forged on and finally found the infamous fish and chip shop. I needn't have been worried about queues, as it was empty. Had it not been for the massive effort that had gone in to finding the ruddy place, I would have walked passed but my increasingly urgent sense of hunger led me inside. The lady was probably disturbed at the red-faced, sweaty and rather loud Australian girl and wrapped up my lunch order rather hastily. Next was the mission of finding a piece of parkland to sit down and enjoy my bundle of joy. A further twenty minutes of desperate speed walking later and I have to say, it probably wasn't worth the effort. I was just grateful that I hadn't dragged along a companion with me on such a strained journey, as I wouldn't have heard the end of it once discovering the chips were quite soggy.
Catching up with my gorgeous cousin Emily after her mooting win was a recent highlight and delight, as was attending a 1950s themed Midsummer Ball at the Kensington Palace gardens with Maria.
Love, Em xxx
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