I returned to Brighton for a couple of days over my Easter break, after a heavy night out with some of my friends we awoke to a day which was surreally calm, we were all feeling a little worse for wear and the weather suited the mood perfectly. We walked along the seafront to town to get some breakfast at a pace which would make the most elderly of tortoises look like Usain Bolt. Even the sea couldn’t muster the energy to form a wave. There was no wind, yet a single yacht sat on the horizon.
Living on the South Coast of England affords its luxuries, hopping over to France being one of them, with the price of train travel within the UK ridiculously high its now cheaper to cross the English Channel for a day out than it is to go up to London (although I do live in London now). This photo was taken the first day of my travels around Europe, and shows, I feel, the complete contrast between my post ‘Vietnamese Festival’ which depicts the busyness, vibrancy, and madness of life in Asia against the more subdued English charms of bleak colours, grey skies, white cliffs, and our beautiful rolling hills. England, and the rest of northern Europe, for me, has a watercolour feel.