7 august 2011, the multitude of humanity

I don't really get out enough, so after a furious afternoon of mud racing and drinking, a night out on the brighton seafront, all for my brother's stag do, was a (gin and) tonic. We were not alone, amidst wall to wall hens and stags, at various states of undress, more as the night went on. Woke up to the tottenham riots, scouring the detritus of the night before in search of a newspaper. A couple of hours later, heading back to civilisation, the streets were already flooded with tourists, and I surfed the london tide, which clearly washes down here. The train of course was first late, then cancelled (the norm grumbled the odd regular on it), but I made it in the end, and there was some pride to see the not inconsiderable number of manchester united and even manchester city shirts travelling on the - brighton to london - train. The hordes of tourists may not make it that far up, but other international elements make it this far down. A spot in the observer I was reading made much the same point. The reds were 2-0 down at half time, but came back to win 3-2. Spending a few days on the south coast later in the month, so may even go back to brighton, just to see if there are any places that don't have music pumping out of every bit of the wall at a million decibels. Yes, I'm getting on.