BRIGHTON – MY OLD LOST LOVE, WE ARE AS STRANGERS

Time had it when the symbol of love in my life was no cherub clutching a box of coronary shaped chocolates; it was the rattling board in Victoria Station of trains from London to Brighton, a flickering electronic countdown against an evening sky in Clapham Junction, an eagerly awaited train at East Croydon. If you can feel true love in the absence of your love to feel in East Croydon, then my friend I believe that all things are possible.

So Brighton was love and Brighton was where my love lived and everything was as bright, shiny and full of promise as the North Sea on a sunny morning as seen from your bedroom window when you’ve just had good sex. One minute your love is sitting up on their elbows making witty comments about something you find fascinating then it seems a few years down the line you’re passing messages through mutual friends about who gets custody of the DVD collection. But I made a mistake, I blamed Brighton.

When I skedaddled back to London I somehow convinced myself that Brighton was to blame. Had we steered clear of those Christmas cake houses and quirky Britonian’s things may have worked out differently. This of course after heart felt analysis I found to be complete bollocks. The fact is Brighton is as Brighton does; invites you in, makes you welcome and offers you a good time and a place to crash if you can’t or won’t go somewhere else. What you do, what you take and who you choose to do all of the above with is up to you. And he did, and that’s why he’s there and I’m here.

The fact is that when love took the fast train back to London I looked over my shoulder, saw the sun setting over the West Pier and saw the former himself’ silhouetted in the distance and didn’t want to go back. Never ever. Walk out of the station past the Prince Albert? Sorry not without an excited flip in my stomach. Stroll through the playground on the Level? Not without a hand to hold. Mosey barefoot along the seafront with the scent of candy floss wafting seductively up the nostril, na uh. What a waste.

Stepping off the train as I did today and out into the unexpected sunshine suddenly I was back in the arms of a long lost friend whose address I had somehow forgotten.