Brighton & Hove on Leica M11 and Harman Phoenix 200

I don’t travel much: there’s a non-insignificant part of me that believes that anywhere I can’t get to on foot or by cycle isn’t worth going to, but it’s mainly about the lack of control of my environment for hours at a time. I know what I am, and what I am is a control freak when it comes to my ability to roam. I was somewhat compelled to travel by a good friend’s wedding and found myself in Hove for a weekend. Being someone who grew up in the Midlands, the idea of open seafront is alien to me and there’s a certain novelty in that to me. Did I overindex on packing cameras rather than practical clothes given that it was forecast to piss down? Perhaps.

As someone perennially incapable of relaxation, it was nice to see people being a little carefree at the seafront. While I can’t imagine that this position would be comfortable for anyone, but I will concede that comfort is often in the eye of the beholder/besitter. I like the pop of colour that the coral of the shoes provides, as well as the throwing back of the arms as the waves come into the shore, as if they are being summoned.

This photo encapsulates everything I love about Harman Phoenix 200: the grain, the hunger for red and warm yellows where there may not be any there in real life. The grainy sillhouettes provide a certain ethereal quality to the couple at the beachfront: I’m sure they’re having a wonderful time commensurate with their boundaries extending towards each other as a result of the coarse grain of the film. I am really sad that Harman discontinued this film and I have a boatload of it that is now approaching expiry.

My wife was forever saying “I’ll show you a groyne you can dive from” or some such horrors as we were walking down the seafront from Hove to Brighton. For obvious reasons, these warnings were brightly coloured and provided a strong contrast with the typical colours of the sea and the beach. I wish that the leading lines from the rails on the groyne lead to something, but not everything can resolve in the way that best suits me.

Again, grain and the tendency of the film to pick up reds from seemingly nowhere make this photo for me, as well as the presence of a seagull - ever-present companions on this walk. This did culminate in a bunch of seagulls confronting a group of girls who had chips. “Is this normal?” they asked us, we answered in the affirmative: this is the risk that one takes when one has the temerity to eat in the open. It was a question asked in a slight tinge of a Black Country accent: welcome to the world outside of the middle of England, girls.

The benefit of having a wife who has a penchant for dying her hair all sorts of bright colours is that she adds colour to any scene one would put her in. Freshly dyed pink for this occasion, I appreciate how it draws the eye towards the West Pier, a piece of Brighton’s history. I love broken and delaidated things, apply that as you wish to things in this photo.

I like this photo a lot: the grain (yes, yes), the predominance of reds, the space shared by the face and the reflection. One of the things I can tolerate about travel by train is watching things as we pass, especially in more rural parts of the country. London to Hove wasn’t that picturesque of possible rail journeys from London, but it had interesting enough things to look at to lead to this photo, so I am content.

He thinks he’s better than me. He’s probably right: I don’t have the gift of flight and I’m off carbs at the moment so he does have two advantages.

I can’t recommend Oeuf in Hove enough for a brunch or brunch-adjacent meal. I had the Frumpets, which were fantastic. It is very much one of those places that exist in some part to be photographed (we were sat outside and I think we saw nine groups of people take selfies in front of the door, some of whom did not stay to actually eat, which I think might be the most 21st Century approach to disordered eating), but the quality of the food justifies it.

No, I don’t regret my packing priorities. While the batteries in the Pentax LX died half-way through the first day we spent here, having the option between it and the M11 was a good thing: the weather (and therefore light) was unpredicatable on account of the weather and I’d always have an option that would be capable of working with what we had. I will, however, say anything to justify my choices.