Wendy and I blast through all kinds of neat little towns on our motorcycles, too busy motorcycling to stop and smell the roses. Usually on a time limit of some kind. Cause, you know, it’s summer, and there is just so much to see and do.  So it is interesting for us to spend some extended time in a location away from home.

     Brighton is an hour train ride south of London, right on the Channel. That turned it into a bit of a party place, where Londoners come down for the day or the weekend to play on the beach. Which they have been doing for two hundred years or more. So it is pretty touristy.

     I never thought I would find roast beef and yorkshires to rival that of my dear ole Mom’s, but I did.