Brighton's Best Pubs

Following on from my recent 'Country Pub Rant', I thought I'd share some thoughts on my favourite urban hostelries in my home town (I still can't think of it as a city), Brighton. So here's my top five, in no particular order...

The Barley Mow, Kemptown Village
Although not strictly the closest pub to my home, I still think of this place as my 'local'. It's cosy and traditional, with comfortingly simple and tasty pub grub. The staff are all really amicable, and always acknowledge their regulars, making you feel at home even when you arrive before the rest of your friends (which happens to me a lot - my friends all seem to have a punctuality problem!). There is a huge pile of assorted games in the corner, from Connect 4 to Jenga, and more obscure ones to boot. We've been frequenting this place since we became regular participants in (and fairly regular winners of) the weekly quiz (Thursday nights, from 9ish). Sunday roasts are particularly recommended - the portions are so generous, I've never been able to finish one yet!

The Lion and Lobster, Bedford Place
I used to live practically opposite this lovely, buzzy hang-out, which manages to maintain a 'locals' vibe, despite its central location. There is regular live music, of which Thursday night Jazz is especially good, and the food is pretty tasty as well. The decor is entertainingly eccentric - lots of old showbiz pictures and pages from magazines pasted all over the walls, and an assortment of random ornaments. Since they extended it around the back, there are plenty of dark and seedy hideouts for romantic trysts. I've also used it as overspill accommodation for parties etc (they have rooms upstairs), and am told that it's very comfortable. What's more, they throw in Sunday lunch if you stay there on a Saturday (presumably no-one gets up in time for breakfast!).

The Basketmakers, North Laine
Tucked away in a quiet backstreet, The Basketmakers thankfully escapes the onslaught of retail tourists who flood the North Laine at weekends, and is instead a haven for all kinds of local characters. The walls are covered with an array of vintage style tins (see picture above), into which it is traditional to put handwritten notes for others to read - always a good conversation starter. You can still buy a decent meal for under a fiver, and the beer is reasonably priced for Brighton, making this my top choice for a cheap and cheerful night out in the centre of town.

The Regency, Regency Square
The phrase 'Camp as Christmas' comes to mind when thinking about The Regency, and indeed the festive season is probably the best time to visit in order to fully appreciate the flamboyance of this legendary establishment. Decked out in faux-regency style furnishings, including in the ladies' (I can't speak for the gents', but am told its decor is also rather unique), it has traditionally become something of a pantomime set around Christmas. I sincerely hope that this custom will continue under the new management, since the departure of the fabulous former landlords. It's a great place for 'holding court' on a birthday or special occasion, and I always seem to get drunker than I mean to if I spend a whole evening there.

The George, Trafalgar Street
Although not particularly atmospheric, this one had to make the list purely by virtue of being the only all-vegetarian pub in Brighton, and because it has a non-smoking area, which is a major bonus in my book. There is a little yard out the back which catches the sun in the warmer months, and is covered and heated in the winter. The veggie grub is excellent, as is the selection of beers and organic wines.

Coming soon, 'Top Five Cocktail Bars', meanwhile:

My New Favourite Bond

Like many other fans of the James Bond film franchise, I was dubious about the casting of Daniel Craig in the legendary 007 role. Whilst I respect him greatly as an actor, I found it hard to picture him as the suave and sexy spy, who for me had always been embodied by the twinkly-eyed Sean Connery. In spite of my reservations, I was eager to see the new movie, so much so that I booked tickets for the opening night and braved West Street to join hoards of others at the Odeon. We chose the slightly later showing in the hope that we wouldn't be surrounded by kids, and it seemed to work.

From the opening scene - a film-noir-esque depiction of Bond's violent initiation into 007 status - Casino Royale immediately distances itself from its predecessors in both style and substance. Gone are the gimmicky gadgets and tongue-in-cheek humour. Craig has seized the role by the neck and shaken (not stirred) new life into it. His Bond is less self-consciously sexual, making him imminently more appealing than the suggestive and somewhat sleazy versions offered by Brosnan, Moore, and even Connery. The endless innuendos and puns have been replaced by a refreshingly understated humour, subtly executed by Craig, who skilfully resists the temptation to milk it.

All the classic ingredients remain – the scarred European baddie, the smouldering smoky-eyed love-interest, and dramatic chase scenes a-plenty – but darker undertones, superior acting and a more human approach establish Casino Royale as a new breed of Bond. Any remaining doubts I may have had about Craig in the leading role were banished at the moment he emerged from the sea, pecks glistening, in a pair of tight swimming shorts (see above). Need I say more?

Sci-fi snooze

Last Saturday's Guardian 'Guide' supplement described the hero of the BBC's new Doctor Who spin-off as "one of the most pantomime characters ever to appear in Doctor Who...like Buzz Lightyear, but less realistic". A pretty harsh assesment of what was intended to be a flagship programme - much-hyped, and eagerly anticipated by sci-fi buffs, myself included. Up until last night, I'd been keeping an open mind about Torchwood, giving it the benefit of a few episodes to get going, but was sadly so bored by the third installment that I dozed off. So I'm afraid I'm with the Guardian on this one... Captain Jack Harkness is a ridiculous caricature, utterly devoid of charisma or sex appeal, and the laboured attempts to create on-screen chemistry between him and the leading lady were about as sexy as a bowl of cold porridge (thanks to Ant for that analogy).

The recently resurrected Doctor Who series were aimed firmly at children, and yet the scripts were funnier, the characters far more appealing, and the sentiments at times genuinely moving. Having been seduced by the "This Life meets the X-Files" pitch for Torchwood, one of the few prime-time programmes aimed squarely at me (a post-Buffy-DINKY), I feel sorely disappointed that the BBC have got it so, so wrong.

Green is the New Black

A few months ago, I expressed my gushing enthusiasm about the new musical Wicked, which I could not wait to see. Well, the big day came along, my 31st birthday in fact, and I could hardly contain my excitement! Ant and I spent the day in London (not such a chore now I don't work there anymore), shopping for boots (we didn't find any) and had a pre-theatre dinner at Ozer, a swanky Meze place near Broadcasting House. Walking into the foyer of the Apollo Victoria was like entering the Emerald City - green walls & carpets, and the most extensive array of merchandise I've ever seen at a musical. The whole theatre has become part of the Wicked experience. I'd bought the tickets on eBay, so wasn't sure what the seats would be like, but luckily they weren't bad - half way up the dress circle, quite central.

The show itself exceeded my expectations in every way - my skin was literally prickling from the very opening chords, and I could feel Ant exuding a similar response next to me. "Good news! She's dead!" is the triumphant opening line of the chorus, referring of course to the demise of the notorius Wicked Witch of the West. Based on Gregory Maguire's novel of the same name, Stephen Schwartz's new musical presents an alternative slant on Frank L. Baum's classic The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, essentially telling the Witch's side of the story. Altogether deeper and darker than the camp-and-spangly Judy Garland film version, Wicked tackles some pretty political issues to do with power, corruption and persecution. I won't spoil the twist for anyone who doesn't know the book, or hasn't yet seen the musical themselves, as I'd only listened to the soundtrack CD before going, and hadn't quite guessed how things turned out.

We were lucky enough to see the extraordinary Idina Menzel - who created the role of the Witch on Broadway - during her limited London run as Elphaba. Her incredible stage presence seemed to ignite her fellow performers, creating an electric chemistry between the cast members. If you think you know the Wicked Witch of the West, think again. Menzel's powerful voice, statuesque physique and great comic timing have given this classic 'baddie' a long-deserved revamp. Of course, Maguire and Schwartz are also to be credited for providing the star with such inspiring material in the first place. I could go on and on about every little detail of the production, from the stunning costumes to the sensational score, but all I really want to say is "go and see it!", even if you don't normally like musicals. Wicked is unlike anything I have seen on stage before, and I can't wait to see it again.

As we boarded the train back to Brighton (sure to become the 'Wicked Express' methinks), I swear I overheard one of my fellow passengers declare "Well, I'm no friend of Dorothy anymore!" and I couldn't agree more - Long Live Elpheba...the Wicked Witch is alive and well!

Sussex Country Pub Rant

One of my favourite things to do of a Sunday is a nice walk in the country and a pub lunch. Last Sunday it was pretty grim weather-wise, but we decided not to let that deter us, and headed out into rural Sussex. I feel so lucky living where we do - flanked by the sea on one side and the Downs on the other. It only took us 10 minutes in the car to get to Fulking, at the foot of Devil's Dyke, to one of our preferred hostelries, The Shepherd & Dog. We've always rated this place for its cosy atmosphere, straightforward food and stunning beer garden. I was sad to see that a recent refurbishment has removed some of the cosiness, and that the hugger-mugger random furniture, which I rather liked, has been replaced by uniform smart pine. This didn't seem to put off the regulars though, as the place was packed full of Sunday-lunchers. So we braved the blustery weather and sat in the beautiful beer garden, hoping the rain would hold off. My biggest complaint about the revamp is the evident price-hike - £6.95 for a sandwich???! Main courses were coming in at £10-14 - fair enough for a swish restaurant, but the food wasn't THAT great. The salad garnish with my ciabatta was limp and obvoiusly not freshly prepared, and there was nothing very imaginative about the sandwich itself - certainly not seven quid's worth of imagination anyway! How sad to see a charming, rustic local turning into yet another soul-less gastro pub. Thankfully Sussex has plenty of other great country pubs to offer...

MY TOP FIVE EAST SUSSEX COUNTRY PUBS

The Cricketers, Berwick - Good, unfussy food and plenty for veggies. Lovely old-school interior and two beer gardens. Also a great starting place for walks over to Charleston.

The Eight Bells, Jevington - Friendly and traditional atmosphere, with nice beer garden and decent pub grub.

The Old Oak, Arlington - This place made the list out of nostalgia more than anything - tucked in next to Abbot's Wood, it was a family favourite growing up, but still serves good beer and OK food.

The Sussex Ox, Milton Street - Now has a gastro-pub style dining room, but the main pub is still cosy and atmospheric, and the food is good value for money.

The Tiger, East Dean - A lovely villagey atmosphere, especially in the summer when drinkers spill out onto the green.

For more inspiration on which pubs to visit in Sussex, try one of these most helpful guidebooks:

Cultural flurry

Last week brought a welcome flurry of cultural activity - I managed to see a film at the cinema, finish reading my first grown-up novel in ages (I've been reading mostly kids books lately) and even went to see a play at the theatre! The film in question was A Scanner Darkly, an adaptation of Philip K. Dick's novel of the same name. I haven't read the book, but was intrigued by the reviews I'd read of the film. They've used some new-fangled animation technique, which basically looks like the actors playing the parts have just been coloured in. My brain went into overdrive just trying to process this confusing visual format, so it wasn't a good start. The dreary plot, bland acting and uninspired directing meant that I only managed to stay awake for about three-quarters of the film (if that).

Thankfully, the theatre trip was an altogether more uplifting experience. It was a family outing in Eastbourne, to see the much talked-about Neville's Island at the lovely Devonshire Park Theatre. The local hype surrounding this production was mostly to do with the amount of water involved, and the implications for the 120 year-old stage! The set, a naturalistic recreation of a Lake District island, was on display as we took our seats (no tabs), complete with aforementioned water. Subtle birdsong twittered around the auditorium, adding to the already atmospheric setting. I knew nothing about the play in advance, except that it involved four middle-aged, middle-management men being marooned during an outbound-style team-building exercise in Cumbria. It was inevitably going to have a comic element, but thankfully stopped short of turning into farce, and stayed well within my preferred realm of black comedy. Sharp comic timing, a good stage rapport between the actors, and clever characterisation all made Neville's Island a resounding success.

On Sunday night I sat down to finish my book, a rare treat, as I hardly ever just sit and read at home anymore. Blackberry Wine by Joanne Harris is mostly set in rural France, and evokes the rustic atmosphere beautifully, with intricate descriptions of food, wine, people and places. With well-rounded characters, some subtle mysteries, and just a touch of magic, it was an easy and satisfying read. And so my brief cultural spell concluded. Back to another week of low-brow TV and children's books then...

Green Man Festival 2006

After the disappointment of The Isle of Wight Festival earlier this summer, I was dead chuffed when I managed to blag two press passes for the Green Man Festival, from the lovely Mojo magazine. I'd heard good things about Green Man and so went along with high hopes. I'm happy to say that it lived up to its reputation. Ant was off away sailing with his parents, so I took Jen along with me. We'd already planned a girls' weekend, so this was the perfect setting for two hippie-chicks to chill out. Sadly, Jen had to work Friday night, so we missed the folk legend that is Donovan, but we arrived on Saturday lunchtime, just in time to catch the end of Quasi's set. These Can-esque folk-rockers set the tone for the weekend, as we wandered about getting our bearings. The surrounding scenery was breath-taking - mountains shrouded in mist and lush greenery everywhere. It was raining, there was mud, but were well-equipped with waterproofs, wellies, etc. and I made it my mission for the weekend to keep us dry!

Over in the Folkey-Dokey tent, we saw our first full set - Misty's Big Adventure. Neither of us had heard of many of the bands before, so we took a chance and hoped for the best. The Green Man site is small enough to nip between stages without getting blisters, so it's no big thing if you change your mind! 'Misty's' was just we needed to get us going - a lively klezmer/ska/jazz fuelled line-up fronted by the po-faced Grandmaster Gareth. The eccentric mix of dark-humoured performance poetry, boppable tunes and crazy dancing mascot (who looked like a reject from Yellow Submarine) had the whole tent boucning about in a distinctly non-folky manner! Next up were Bat for Lashes, a glam-hippy girl band who I can only describe via their evident influences - e.g. Kate Bush-meets-Bjork-meets-Enya-meets-Shakespeare's Sister-meets Portishead...wrapped in capes and rolled in glitter. Arch, to say the least. The lyrics to their eletro-folk songs proved as contrived as their attire, and I wasn't sure whether it was meant to be comical or not. Unfortunately I had become somewhat inhebriated by this point, and lost the power of internal dialogue. So when the lead singer invited audience participation by declaring "We need help" I was compelled to retort "yes you do" in an unintentionally audible manner. Jen was seized by the giggles, and we thought it was probably a sensible time to depart.

In between bands, there was plenty of people-watching to be had, and no shortage of scenic spots to sit and relax. The food stalls were pretty impressive - lots of veggie stuff and everything from tapas to thali, but thankfully no M&S (which I'd been shocked to see at Isle of Wight). There were also loads of little kids running around, and it was such a laid-back, friendly atmosphere, that parents seemed happy to let them. Back on the main stage, King Creosote were inoffensively affable, providing cheery folk-indie crowd pleasers, but failed to inspire me. By the time the Saturday headliner, Jose Gonzales, was up, Jen was suffering from exhaustion (having finished work at 4am the night before) and I was rather too rum-and-flapjack fuelled to appreciate him. We sat swaying on the hillside for a few songs, then decided we could enjoy it just as well from our tent, which was just behind the main stage, and promptly passed out.

Jen was up and about before me in the morning, grabbing tea and making friends. I can't say I had a comfy night's sleep (missed the air mattress), but was suitably refreshed to embrace the day's offerings with enthusiasm. After a hearty veggie breakfast, and some bimbling, we went to see Brighton band Fink. The singer's vocals put me in mind of Boo Hewerdine, and I liked the blend of folk-finger-picking and bluesy soulful rhythms. Some of the lyrics were a bit contrived, but overall it was a pleasant experience... Which is more than can be said for the Eighteenth day of May. I went along to this, forgetting that I already endured them earlier in the year at Brighton's own Great Escape Festival. I would normally dig this kind of psychadelic folk, but these guys are severly let-down by a terrible drummer. There's no getting away from the tedious, heavy handed percussion that sadly overbears an otherwise pleasant enough sound. It was also threatening to rain again, so this was an opportune moment to to strike the tent and pack up the car.

I was intending to stick around for folk-guru Bert Jansch, and a surprise addition to the line up, Cerys Matthews, but my rational brain kicked in and reminded me that I had to be at work in the morning, and had a 200 mile drive ahead. So, as it turned out, our final band were Archie Bronson Outfit, described in the blurb as 'garage blues... with apocolyptic fervour'. They were certainly compelling - prog-rocky, with folky undertones, but funky enough to get people dancing. The distinctive, edgy vocals provoked a sense of urgency, and there was certainly fervour...a good note to end on. I was really impressed with the festival as a whole. The only let-down was the DJ tent, which never seemed to really take off (apart from a brief funky stint on Saturday night, or did I imagine that?). I'd have liked it to be almost an antidote to folk - a complete contrast, to re-set the musical receptors. Folk-DJing just doesn't really work. But apart from that, eveything was most satisfactory - even the toilets were relatively salubrious, for a festival.

Where did that month go?

It's been a month since my last post, and though I have nothing much of interest to write about, I feel I must scrape together some sort of offering. Although I'm not a Catholic, and have never been to confession, I'm sure it's a similar thing - the need to purge one's subconsious and discharge those random thoughts which clog up the brainwaves. There'll be no disclosing of transgressions here, though...

The last month has been fairly devoid of cultural exploits about which to write, and the social calendar has been somewhat slow as well. What I've been busy doing is changing jobs... after 18 months in Chichester I decided it was time for a change and found myself a cushy gig much nearer home, in Lewes. The plan was to cycle in - to save money and get fit at the same time, but since I don't have a working bike, I've been getting the bus so far. I've discovered that Brighton buses are actually fairly reliable, even sometimes, rather annoyingly, arriving EARLY! My past experiences of using buses regularly were mainly in London when they lived up to that classic reputation of none coming for ages and then three turning up at once. Well, the job is cool, the people are lovely, and it's great being back in good-old Lewes. I've even got a bus buddy in the shape of my friend Tim, who also commutes to Lewes, to work at County Hall. We're having lunch today, and all feels right in the world.

Other stuff that's happened in the last month includes a visit from my Kiwi cousins, which involved a cheesy Brighton day - down the pier, fish & chips, swimming in the sea, buying souvenir Brighton Rock, and shopping in the Lanes. My best friend from school, Kerry, has also been over from Oz, where she now lives, but I only got to see her for one night, as it was a flying, and tightly scheduled, trip. We've had a houseful this week, with two lodgers - a bassonist from Glyndebourne and the lovely Brian, who will be staying for a few weeks before he goes of to do his PGCE in Exeter. He joined us for our regular pub quiz last night, at which we did shamefully - joint 4th - shocking! I put it down to Jo not being there, and the fact that the guest round was sport. Still, it was a fun evening, with much inter-team banter, and a spontaneous chanting of "HE SAID YACK, HE SAID YACK...!" in response to one team member's indignant remark of "I said Yack and none of you believed me". Genius.

The month has not been without its upsets - Mum lost her little Yorkie dog, Zoe, who originally belonged to Granny. I'm not usually a fan of little yappy dogs, but Zoe was real character, and her kooky personality certainly outshone her diminutive physical presence. After hosting a veritable menagerie of pets not so long ago, Mum's now left with just one cat (Go-Tabs) and one dog (Pascha). Then more sad news came yesterday from Ant's Mum that their old and very dear family cat, Dandelion, had died. We took a moment to honour her memory, and I shall do so again here. She was once a very timid, usually invisible, cat, but in recent years had mellowed into a different creature entirely. Last Christmas I took on the job of visiting her regularly in the attic rooms (see above picture), where she was confined because of Eddy and Alison's dog Papi being around. She was pathetically pleased to see me, and covered me in her soft tortoisehell fur, purring and dribbling with affection. I shall miss seeing her when we head North, dear old Dandelion.