Once upon a time we used to enjoy our holidays, to paint our lips with melted ice-cream to the despair of our mothers and to warm our tiny tender feet in the frolicsome caress of silky sands. Once upon a time—another time, a proto-time—the notion of holidays belonged only to the elite and made no sense at all for the sweating classes who used to work all year round. “But who cares? That was long time ago!” some will think.
Long time ago indeed, but not too long. The learned men cleverly taught us that time and history—and bad habits with them too—repeat themselves. We shouldn’t use clever theories for our personal purposes, but this is actually a pretty good, even if a bit pretentious, apology for spending the summer in the city with no regrets. Continue reading “Of Old-fashioned Brighton Summers & Melted Ice-creams”