In Southampton we work one day, in Brighton then the second. The weather remains drizzly and windy during the day, but in the evening the sun suddenly appears. Now we can cook our dinner near the harbour with a view of the river "Test" (or also called Southampton-Water) and even snack with the Felix door open.
In Brighton, unfortunately, there is another storm. A storm is something we particularly feel in Felix. He, Felix, is quite tall and unfortunately he rocks like a boat in the surf. Sleeping is not so easy.
But: we wanted it that way, we wanted to live on-the-road (or as mum says: like vagabonds). Then the weather is also part of it. No matter what the weather.
In the morning we notice that we can no longer see anything through the windows, everything is greasy. The wind has completely salted Felix, so we have to clean. It's just a shame that we have to do it several times. The wind doesn't let up and we always want to be on the beach or the promenade. Actually, we would know better. But actually, that's another word that could be deleted. And learn from mistakes? We don't!
In the evening we eat our last fish & chips in a Brighton harbour pub (and yes, we love it, unlike many gourmets in continental Europe, the chips even with vinegar!).
Here, an ancient music machine plays cool 80s hits to sing along to. We can't talk to each other anyway, because the dockworkers at the next table are shouting their life lessons back and forth much louder than the music and we never shout at each other anyway.
Instead we play a round of SkipBo, I get to win again and after dinner we disappear into our quiet, but wind-swept Felix.
We have two things on the agenda for the next day:
- View Brighton and
- celebrate our last day in the British Isles with a magical afternoon tea.
Brighton itself is cold and rainy again (I seriously and rightly take out my winter jacket!), but enchants us briefly when we visit a former royal summer residence of George IV, which looks like something out of the Arabian Nights.
And instead of an extensive stroll through the city (the city really looks very pretty, but when it rains all mice are grey - or how does the saying go?) we find ourselves at the Grand Hotel at 2 pm sharp for the Afternoon Tea on.
Hach, this is really a great invention! I even had a vegan version. The magic alone and how the white-gloved waiter celebrated the whole thing. The shiny teapots, the etagères, another little appetiser here, another cream cake there.
After two hours of enjoying, chatting and summing up our trip, we leave the Grand Hotel, the open belt well hidden under the loose winter jacket! Of course, this amount of food is a caloric feat. But as the saying goes, "You don't treat yourself to anything else!"
Of course, this saying is absolute nonsense for us, but sometimes the platitudinous calendar sayings simply have to serve as an excuse for our gluttony.
Merci for "travelling with us
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