Radish piers

After an excellent weekend receiving long-eared jerboas (thanks martin!), walking in parks, decorating a tree (that we actually had this year), baking cookies and putting way too much gin into some vague resemblance of mulled wine with my brother...


...I woke up to an extremely cold monday morning, hoiked my bag on my back and ran after the bus to take me to the tube station that would lead me to a train station from whence I could get a train to Brighton. The journey was smooth, and with the frost covering most of southern England, astonishingly pretty. The weather helped, stunningly clear skies and a frosty overtone that was maintained throughout the week, bringing an opportunity to wrap up in hats, gloves and mittens, and a general holiday feel to a much-needed change of scenery. It's not often that I forget how much I love to travel, even rarer the occasion that I'm reminded of the fact whilst not realising I'm in the middle of it. Have I lost you yet? Good, then I'll continue.


Brighton pavillion is something I always thought was an extention of one of the piers, having not realised it was a palace-like building in itself resembling an oriental palace clad in concrete, or as critics have put it, several radishes atop several boxes. Inside it is overwhelmingly lavishly decorated in attempt to belittle and impress, and it works. The dining room contains an astonishingly large dragon-held chandelier above a table longer than my 3-bedroomed flat in a room that's taller than my building, and the walls are covered in intricate designs that wow the visitor in ways that only blood-red walls can.


Our apartment was right on the shore, opposite the now burnt-out west pier. At sunset, the starlings put on an amazing display centering around the metal framework, set against a blazing red sky. Walking further upsore led me to Brighton Pier, with it's mass of arcades and fairground eerily deserted at such a late hour on a winters eve, though it's not hard to imagine how in the relative warmth of the summer it could be packed out and bubbling energy with all the kids on it, reminding me why winter's not such a bad thing afterall.


The conference itself proved enlightening, with some very good speakers, some great career pointers and lots of coffee-drinking opportunities. I may have even managed to get myself onto the societies' committee, but more on that as and when it develops, not wanting to scare a certain housemate more than is absolutely necessary at this point. Advance apologies.


Christmas at home has already provided opportunities for discovering old walks, older viaducts and the joys of sitting at the childrens' table for Wigilia - Christmas Eve meal. Tomorrow I go exploring again, on my favourite bike of all, and so it is with a roast-duck filled belly that I wish you all a very merry christmas and future tiding of joy for the coming closure of a year that has changed so much.