Who knew that the night we decided to spend in Brighton would be the one when the West Pier collapse and I would, for the first time in my life, realise something dramatically Hollywood-y like "you can't beat the force of nature"? Anyway, it was a lovely two days. Great way to start a new month.
And yeah, we didn't make it for our first train to Brighton because we set off only 40 minutes early (usually it takes me 10 minutes to go to Victoria, OH WELL) and BEFORE the big tube strike even started. Silly me, TFL, silly me, Southern, I could have expected that you would decide to welcome the before-the-strike morning with severe delays on district line. And yeah, on our way back both of our phones died seconds after we hailed an Uber to take us back home and we had to spend 40 minutes in a bus full of Fulham people who had probably never been on a bus before, oh, side note - we bonded with a middle-aged guy living on a boat in a canal next to Paddington while complaining on how late the bus was.
But you know what? The food was amazing, our hotel was AMAZING (wait for a separate entry on that one, it's well worth it!) and my travel companion was the best.
My flatmate calls me the world's unluckiest traveller and I guess he has a point but if someone asked me if I want to go through all of this before just to smell the sea for the first time in six months, I would definitely do that.