The Brighton Time Machine

I've found it increasingly fascinating lately that I seem to be re-living many of the events from the past year. And it's been giving me a very odd sense of deja vu.

This may have something to do with the mind-set of the average Canadian in London. Let's call it 'temporary visa syndrome'. Because we are only granted a minimal amount of time to live in this country (this, of course, is not including all of those lucky ducks who have British lineage in their blood, or who decide that a shotgun wedding is the better alternative to going back home), we are very conscious of time.

This is something that I've noticed more lately - mainly because I have officially rounded the one-year mark. At the end of October, I will be down to ten months. TEN MONTHS. Nothing, in other words.

In these upcoming ten months, I have to find the time and money to take several trips, see all of the tourist crap that I haven't yet seen here in London, move, save money so that I can hop into the next adventure with ease, and figure out what the hell to do next. It's all very overwhelming, if you stop to think about it.

So I try not to.

Lately, I've just been trying to take advantage of all the little opportunities that come about, and to thoroughly enjoy myself. Thus, this past weekend, I found myself once again in the coastal town of Brighton.

Greg and I had taken an impromptu trip to Brighton at about this time last year. We stood on the beach, were hypnotised by the pretty lights of the pier, and ate fish and chips. I had my picture taken with a garbage bin shaped like a porpoise. It was a really great weekend. I have a stone from Brighton beach, which I had kept in my jacket pocket for a long time, to remind me of it.

Although I did stand on the beach again, and breathe that crazy fresh sea air, my motives for going this weekend were to check out the Harvest Festival (idea compliments of Justin and his roomie Collyn). We took in several bands, had a few pints, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. If you haven't heard of Stars of Aviation, I would recommend checking them out.

Before leaving, Jason and I wandered down to the beach one last time, and I pocketed several more of those sea-polished stones.

Last year, after I had taken one last look at the ocean, I expected that I would never actually be back in Brighton (even though it is only an hour away by train from London). This past weekend was a unexpected surprise, and has proven to me that you really can't predict the future.

But sometimes, you do get to re-visit the past.