Friday 3 November 2023

The Painting

The Painting

Mirabelle Jagoe looked at the full length portrait in the museum gallery.

Looked and longed.

She visited Halstead Von Bischoff at least once a week, twice when it was late opening once a month.

He returned her gaze, proud and haughty as if daring her to love him

Sometimes when she gazed at him long enough she almost saw a twinkle in his eye.

An acknowledgement. An ignition. An invitation.

And she thrilled as she imagined her life with him.

Centuries breached and forgotten, lifetimes almost touching.

The man who would leave her with nothing left to want

A master of horseback, masterful in the bed chamber

An unstoppable force of nature.

At home at night, she began dressing for him

Long flowing dresses with empire waists and satin trim

She studied intricate 18th century hairstyles on the internet

And practiced talking with her eyes in mirrors

She stopped going to work

It became hard to remember the city boy who broke her heart

That insignificance of a man from whom she first sought distraction in galleries

Von Bischoff began to meet her in her dreams each night

And implored her to steal his painting before it could be relegated to the gallery basement for another eighty years

He had a fine ship chartered for her.

They would sail away to the New World and start a new life

Her chance came. She noticed his room unattended one afternoon in the last hour of opening.

She walked towards the painting until for the first time she could actually touch it.

Trembling as the alarms went off she grabbed at the edges but before she knew it a muscular arm reached out, drew her into the painting and Von Bischoff wrapped his cloak around her.

Gallery staff rushed in to find Von Bischoff smiling broadly as he held a glowing Mirabelle, her golden locks spilling over the edge of his cloak.

Her coat and bag lay abandoned in front of the rope barrier.

They would never take his portrait down now.

©LS King




The Old Hotel

The Old Hotel

She had been a fancy lady in her day with curved Regency skirts, a large balcony, big-eyed bow fronted windows with cast iron lashes, and boasting a complexion of clear Portland and a bright red brassy front door kissing guests in from long tiring journeys. Her plush red interiors gaped deep, warm and welcoming. She was a wet whisky welcome with smoky lamp-lit eyes, a promise of naughty niceties away from grinding convention. A tart with a heart and the great and the good loved her. Lords and Ladies were frequent visitors as they took the waters and penned daily letters home. Not everyone could afford her, though detectives often enjoyed free rooms paid for by adulterers seeking kiss me quick divorces. For others she was a special occasion treat with her wedding suite, her afternoon teas or her birthday ballroom.

Staff enjoyed their own dalliances as they made up the vallances. Life was jolly both below and above stairs.

With every season came new reason to love her and many a well-heeled widower moved in all year round for that permanent holiday, offering solicitous service and changing daily company plus the regulars for cards three times a week. Oscar Wilde once slept here and a Prime Minister too, though some said that was just a rumour.

Habits changed, the seaside declined, decimated first by cruising, then the package holiday era, our poor lady’s paintwork curled and cried but she held her pride and when her basement was invaded she kicked the trap door shut behind him so no one could find him, snuffing his fire out too.

Oh, the thousand stories she could tell if she were a sea shell.

But now she’s a budget hotel, scarcely better than a motel and people come for conferences rather than romances.

The silver service may be no more but she still has views to die for.

©LS King 2023



Saturday 25 March 2023

A Big Hello To All My New Readers


My humble little blog has been sadly neglected for some while as life and work has taken over.

Today it's been brought to my attention I may have a new readership since venturing into local politics, so I thought I'd better say Hello.

However should anyone be here digging for my political past, I will save you the trouble.

There isn't one.

Hard to believe maybe, but it happens to be true,  Until now I've never had a political bone in my body, never been a member of a political party or remotely attracted to politics. Ok, I've always voted, but only because my family suffered heavy casualties in two world wars and it seemed an insult to all those ancestors who died for my freedom not to vote.

But it's always been a tough call at the polling station deciding which is the 'least of the evils' to vote for in the absence of a 'pick of the crop' array of glittering political offerings.

As a cynic, I've always seen politics as a divide and rule game to keep us all either moaning about how bad things are while they get even worse or at each other's throats rather than holding power to account and demanding the goods and services we pay for, no excuses. It's been hard to engage as a result.

Right and Left seem to me, to be wings of the same bird, and if they extend to extremes at either side, they probably end up meeting in the middle at the back somewhere.

For myself, I remain a wingless beast and a fan of balance in all things.

Living in a British democracy we are lucky enough to live in a consent and contract-based society. Even if we've elected our leaders they still rule by our consent and we can withdraw that consent at any time if they go rogue or start acting against the public interest.

Well that's how it's supposed to work anyway. Sadly in recent years we seem to have allowed those who govern us to slip from public servants who work for us into petty dictators who tell us what to do when it is their role to run the city or even country, not the citizens.

That's what has annoyed me enough to want to do my bit to make public servants fashionable again, hence forming the Friends of Brighton and Hove Independents - spawned by the Friends of Brighton and Hove Citizens' Action Group - shining a light and campaigning on local issues for three years now.

We need a city by the people for the people. A beautiful and thriving city we can be proud of once more.

If you don't agree, don't vote for me and my fellow prospective councillor candidates. It's that simple. 

I believe we have entirely sensible and commonsense aims.

But I'm not going to turn this into a political blog. That is being built elsewhere.

This just a personal blog. A mix of the silly and the serious, the thoughtful and the playful interspersed with poems, vignettes, obituaries, short stories, reviews - much like any other blog, I suppose. 

Photograph by author near Black Rock, Brighton.

Thursday 20 October 2022

The Power of Comms


I used to love blogging and at one point had a sizeable world audience but the world has changed and sadly blogging has become the poor relation of other social media, which is a shame as it offers both more depth and longevity.

Then again, there is so much it became unsafe to talk about without at least risking losing your account, if not your life, under mysterious circumstances, if you had a large enough audience.

I do believe humanity is finally winning though and for that I rejoice.

I have recently become involved in my new local Union of Free Speech, and a bit of a public speaker myself. It has been both eye opening and refreshing to note the rising appetite to make free speech fashionable again and the growing realisation that agendas are not always intended for humanity's benefit.

Even now it seems hard to believe that whole families decided they no longer loved one another based on whether they all took the same pharmaceutical product or not - and had any confidence in the powers of their own imbibement - as little as a year ago. Thankfully many such divisions are now on the way to being healed, though not without some pretty devastating collateral damage in many forms. The horrors of mandates and restrictions too are now lifting in many countries as the threat of major lawsuits looms.

What became clear is that governments never take away human rights with any intention of giving them back. Freedom is not free. Human freedom must be fought for. And Plato was right, 'Silence is consent'. 

Notwitstanding, all manner of abuses and wealth heists can be perpetuated under the guise of 'for your own safety'.

The world wealth heist/transfer now continues with the threat of collapsing banks and clim.ate lockdowns, not to mention neverending panicdemics with the new messaging that it's all our fault. Because the middle class and poor are obviously the over-consumers here and deserve every blackout they get.

I still maintain humanity will win though and choose to keep my vibes high.

But the quicker we all find our own voices and speak up, the quicker this will happen. Forget the friends and family you might lose as a result. You'll make new and better friends. I have. To live one's life based on the fear of what others might think of us or what we think they think of us - because how many of us bother to check? Well, it's frankly ludicrous. And here's the rub. In most cases they don't give a damn. It is all in our minds. They have their own fears and phobias to feed - such as what we might think of them!

I like to be 'kind', polite and considerate. But I will no longer do so to my own detriment or if undermining who I am is the price. Or just because I am a girl and expected to behave in a certain way. And how interesting the 'be kind' messaging was everywhere just before the pandemic. As if grooming us to believe it was 'unkind' to ask any questions.

Well what's real will stand up on its own feet. It needs no prepping, propping, programming or propadanda. It needs no cen.sorship so people can't talk about it without penalty.

Like a lion, it just is. It is only lies which are full of holes and liable to fall if not pumped full of human belief and reinforcement at regular intervals.

If for example the cl.imate cri.sis is real, it does not require my belief in it in order to be real.

Not only will everything real survive being challenged, it will welcome it. It has nothing to hide and nothing to fear. The real just is.

Tuesday 28 September 2021

Torturing the Elderly...

I recently went for a job managing the premises of a care home complex and was horrified to find that post-Freedom day, post jab, the poor residents (now inmates) had fewer human freedoms than a Category A prisoner!
And despite life in the city/on the beach being pretty well completely back to normal less than a mile away.
I mean some of these folk are in the final months/weeks of their natural lives anyway, so to deprive them of anything they want or restrict family and friend access is totally out of order. Cruelty, no less, since those with dementia are unlikely to be able to comprehend why they are being treated like this.
And wasn't the wonderjab supposed to protect them from the rona? 
Didn't BoJo tell us around this time last year that once the elderly and vulnerable were 'done' all restrictions would be lifted?
So much for care home 'dignity and respect' policies. So much for BoJo and his bogus promises.
Needless to say I dodged a bullet with that role. Apart from the bs, I couldn't bear to have been complicit in and witness to that level of human cruelty.
Weeks later, we are now hearing that thanks to govt's attempts to mandate the jibjab for staff or they lose their jobs, some care homes are lacking enough staff to get residents up, washed and dressed in the mornings! Some may even have to close!
Things just get worse and worse for poor care home residents, and paying through the nose for such treatment, to add insult to injury. So much for 'safeguarding' issues. These appear to be completely out the window now. I wouldn't be surprised if corporate manslaughter charges are eventually brought by some families.
It is literally criminal what is going on in the care homes.
And none of it's the law, just govt 'guidelines' (which are differently interpreted by each establishment.) Even more alarmingly, when I looked at the latest Care Quality Commission (CQC) report for the establishment where I had an interview the CQC were clearly now ONLY judging care homes on their rona-prevention measures, not the actual quality of care and how residents are treated.

Thursday 9 September 2021

Working It Out...

This is the longest break I've accidentally taken from my now-14 year blogging career. 

Not because I don't have anything to say, but because I have too much and most of it would be banned, which in itself is pretty sinister, for do we not have a human right to spout sh*t on our own blogs and social media, if that's what it is? 

Isn't it up to genuine readers to decide what does and doesn't ring true?

So I will share an analogy of just one aspect of what I am currently trying to get my head around re the world situation.

A Product Like Any Other...
Let's say a brand new toaster came onto the market.
While some people swore it warmed the bread to some degree it soon became evident it didn't actually seem to toast anything and sometimes injured the user in the process of trying to make toast, yet not only could individuals not return the product, they found they had no consumer protection under it, had to pretend to everyone else that it worked and if they expressed any doubts about it, found themselves social media shamed for 'spreading disinformation'.
Those who questioned the toaster's necessity in the first place or pointed out it was not the only way to make toast, found themselves branded 'conspiracy theorists' or 'anti-toasters', bullied and coerced into acquiring it and even threatened with no job or freedoms if they didn't.
Apparently no one had toast until everyone had toast!
As if that weren't bad enough, they were required to sign up to three toasters a year (or two plus a booster toaster) to get 'normal' back!
If they didn't, that meant other people died and it was their fault for being 'selfish' (apparently), though no evidence was ever provided for this assertion. 
While many who complied with accepting the toaster realised it wasn't what was promised on the box (ie safety and freedom), and a significant number didn't quite feel right after using it, or noticed mysterious illnesses or deaths in their family, colleague or friendship circles, somehow this didn't prompt them to join the dots or speak up.
Was it peer pressure?
Was it herd instinct?
Were they too embarrassed to admit they could be wrong?
Were they earning a living promoting, distributing or selling the toaster?
Did they have shares in the toaster manufacturers?
It was all very mysterious as humankind had got along perfectly well before the toaster was invented.
Meantime it was all their Christmases at once for the toaster manufacturers. They had truly never come up with such a moneyspinning mass market repeat product! And to wangle liability-exemption as well! But it didn't stop there. Having intially stated it would only be for the 'elderly and vulnerable' they quickly got their sponsored technicians to tell governments that everyone needed their product including children.
The moral of this story? This is just a PRODUCT at the end of the day and like any other PRODUCT, it needs accountability and liability, including pulling from the market if it does not work or causes more harm than good.
There are MANY highly qualified independent medical/scientific/legal experts out there demanding this needs to happen who have been deplatformed for their views. Go search them. They have nothing to gain and everything to lose by speaking out. So why would they if they weren't genuinely concerned about what is going on? And why hasn't there been a nationwide product risk assessment at the very least?

Thursday 11 February 2021

RIP Hal Holbrook and Christopher Plummer


It's been a sad beginning to the year with the loss of two acting greats. 

First, my favourite actor 

Hal Holbook (1925-2021), a Tony winner, five-time Emmy winner and Oscar nominee (1925-2021).Hal performed his original one-man show 'Mark Twain Tonight' all around America for more than 60 years - each night producing a different show based on his encyclopedic knowledge of Twain's entire works! He also played film and TV Presidents, Senators, lawyers, priests and villains, including starring as President Lincoln himself in the original mini-series. A wonderfully wise and intelligent man as well as a mesmerising actor. I previously wrote a piece about Hal here For more info, here is his wiki entry

Only a couple of weeks later

Christopher Plummer (1929-2021). Many women swooned over him as Baron Von Trapp in The Sound of Music, but I thought he was sexiest as Sir Charles Lytton, the jewel thief in Return of The Pink Panther. However this Canadian star did so much more as well with an illustrious international stage and screen career spanning seven decades. Here is Christopher's wiki entry.  

I have the autobiographies of both men and they are superbly honest and well written. Hal in particular seemed determined to tell the truth at all costs. Interestingly both grew up without fathers yet ended up often playing patriarchal or authoritarian figures.  Moreover both made it to their 90s with stage and screen careers spanning seven decades. Extraordinarly though it seemed they never actually worked together. though their paths must have almost crossed multiple times.

Each was an inspiration in his own right, but particularly Hal.

Wednesday 23 December 2020

RIP - Dorian van Braam


It's been a year of so many shocks but it was a particular shock to find out our dear friend Dorian van Braam died suddenly at the weekend only the day after we had spent a jovial evening with him in his flat. Luckily my partner Ollie had the presence of mind to take what turned out to be the last photographs of Dorian as he held forth in characteristic fashion and posed in authorial mode.

I met Dorian around three years ago when he started coming to the monthly writers group I ran in Hove Library and joined us in a nearby cafe with others to socialise over tea and cake afterwards. Although originally from Sussex he was new to Hove and didn't know many people. He also had books he wanted to sell in due course so it was useful to network. 

From the start he impressed me as a charismatic and cultured chap. A genuine eccentric Englishman possessed of an extraordinary blend of arrogance, spirituality, humour and earthiness. I determined to adopt him as a second father. He came to my very first stand up comedy gig and brought the house down when the compere picked on him and asked him what he did. 'I'm a writer of 50 million unpublished words in longhand' came the answer. There was no comeback to that. The compere then moved onto another lady from my writers group (Sharon) who'd come to support me asking what Sharon did. 'I talk to angels' she replied. There was hardly any need for us comedians! Later on Dorian came to a new comedy night to support me when I tried some new material, He was asked if he wanted a try out. Without hesitation he took to the stage and did a routine about Wagon Wheel biscuits shrinking and his frustrations with consumerism. While not being uproariously funny material, the audience loved him and found him naturally hilarious. Sadly he didn't take things further, despite my suggestion of a retired Biggles scene involving him entering in leather flying jacket and goggles (both of which he apparently owned), strutting round the stage looking in various directions before finally asking the audience. 'Has anyone seen my plane?'

It turned out he had owned a plane. Before crashing it into a helicopter and livng to tell the tale. He rode motorbikes, broke in horses, married a minor Spanish aristocrat, played the grand piano, owned a manor house in Ireland, acted, wrote prose, was an early performance poet, married a second lady, the mother of his three grown up children, of whom he was inordinately proud. He practiced woodwork and would turn his hand to anything practical be it fixing roofs, motorbikes or boilers and even baking bread. Careerwise, he'd farmed, been an estate agent in Spain an NUJ photojournalist and founded a successful water bottling company in Ireland. He had also once stood for Parliament and was descended from Dutch nobility. I thought he must be a Walter Mitty character until the first time I visited his flat and saw photographs of him with his horses, photographs of him with his plane, pictures of his Irish manor house, old business cards from his water bottling company and beheld an unexpected baby grand piano in his 1-bed flat living room! Then there were his 50 million unpublished words neatly stacked in A4 leather bound notebooks about 10 feet high in the corner, awaiting painstaking transcription to his Apple Mac. It was all true!

As if all this weren't extraordinary enough, Dorian had taught himself astrology and hypnotism and believed he was a reincarnated Spitfire pilot whose plane had been shot down in WWII and that he had almost immediately been re-born into a Sussex farming family with Dutch ancestery. Looking at him I could well believe it. He also said that when he took flying lessons, he already knew how to fly. A prior life was spent in a monastery he told me, and he would try and stay at a retreat at least once a year. Moreover he held no truck with conventionalism and didn't buy into the Covid or Brexit nonsense from day one, though he and I had differing theories about what was really going on.

In the time I knew Dorian, he fell off the roof of his manor in Ireland while repairing it, crashed his car into a motorway barrier, got knocked off his bicycle by an AA rescue vehicle, had one of his two motorbikes stolen and was involved in at least two long-running legal battles (in his spare time he fancied himself as a bit of a Clarence Darrow though he clearly stressed himself out over his battles with the world as well). One thing that stood out however was his utter fearlessness. He would try anything at least once and even if it were inadvisable.

Then there was Dorian's undimmed love for the ladies. He still had a twinkle in his eye and liked nothing more than female attention. He was therefore delighted to be invited to afternoon tea by my friend Ariana and her lady friends to entertain them and play the piano. Braams, of course! He also had some hilarious stories, like the time he went up to London to attend an opera singer's house party with plans to work his charm on the glamorous diva, only to accidentally fall asleep on her sofa instead!

Despite saying he'd had a botched heart operation a few years ago, Dorian seemed indestructible and came along to a recent Freedom protest and a Mod weekender. He also had a soft side, an ability to laugh at himself and a lifelong interest in the spiritual.

He had more plans and dreams than any nearly 80 year old I've ever met including an additional university degree and could have easily done with an extra twenty years to achieve them all, even if he did have eccentricities that often got in the way, like the restless spirit, which couldn't decide where he wanted to live for the rest of his life. And while he adored his children and grandchildren, he didn't seem in a hurry to put down roots or streamline his life, even at his age, much as I offered to help him find his dream property locally with the garden and shed that he wanted, and large enough to accommodate a grand piano.

Despite his business acumen and other talents, Dorian identified with writing the most and yearned to be a celebrated writer and poet. It was his life's dream. He self published a couple of books to this end and very sweetly insisted on giving us copies.

I saw flashes of genius within the pages, but sadly undercut by the lack of a strict editorial scalpel coupled with a pointblank refusal to admit that he needed such. If Dorian asked you to look at something he had written, you quickly learned he expected nothing but flattery. He didn't want any other type of feedback. I felt this was a great shame as he certainly had no shortage of ideas. He also had an excellent command of the English language and the ability to really graft at his computer for up to eight hours a day. A level of commitment many writers would give their eye teeth for, including me!

RIP Dorian. A man who lived life to the full and on his own terms. A man who did it his way (to the extent of rebranding his motorbike to a de Braam!). We shall miss you enormously. You may have been nearly 80 when a suspected heart attack claimed you, but somehow you still left us long before your time. 

*Photograph at top taken about six weeks ago when we spotted Dorian walking past from an outdoor cafe in Brighton. We invited him to join us for a cuppa but he was in a hurry so just posed outside the card shop opposite, aptly named Scribbler!

Sunday 25 October 2020

The New Civil Rights Movement


Above are some photographs from yesterday's Freedom march in London. It is estimated that over 100,000 of us attended. The atmosphere was wonderful despite repeated attempts by the Police to kettle us and break us up towards the end of the march. The Daily Mail lied that they had succeeded, but the truth was that the march had processed peacefully and successfully for nearly three hours before coming to a natural finish in Trafalgar Square where a wall of Police waited for no discernable reason.

An entire cross section of the British public had convened from all corners of the country including a group of about 30 twentysomethings in black jeans and red sweatshirts emblazoned with 'Don't Let Live Music Die', a cohort protesting against the death of the hospitality industry, families, grandmothers, doctors, nurses - you name it, we were all there defending our inalienable human rights, our dwindling jobs and our rapidly disappearing democracy.

We started at Hyde Park Speaker's Corner with multiple speeches concerning multiple issues going on in various areas (I was particularly impressed by an impassioned Manchester grandmother sharing her experience of three generations of her family and what v.accines had done to them, leading to her decision to spare her children and grandchildren, who were completely healthy by comparison with her generation). A couple of protestors wafted burning white sage sticks around to bless us all with positive energy.

We then processed down Oxford Street and spontaneously all around central London bringing traffic to a halt and attracting lots of supportive honking from quarter full buses and empty taxis.  And I, for one, was wearing a face covering a cardboard B.ill G.ates mask.  A group of dancers danced along to a beatbox, drums and tamborines were beat, whistles were whistled. 'We ARE the 99%!' and 'Freedom!' were chanted at regular intervals. We were noisy but peaceful.

I met Piers Corbyn as we processed through Trafalgar Square. So much nicer than his brother Jeremy. 

I am now officially a Corbynista! 

There were many sad stories of how the C.ovid situation has divided families between those who want their lives back and those who live in fear and attempt to follow the narrative rigidly, only to still lose their jobs and freedoms. Those for whom it is easier to lash out at the 'cons piracy theorist' in the family rather than a government deserving of their wrath.

At one point a policewoman sidled up to me and told me I need to go home as I was breaking the law. 'What law is that?' I asked. She looked surprised. 'The Covid law' she  replied and carried on. I wondered if the same conversations went on in BLM marches. Certainly they don't appear to be kettled, broken up or threatened by riot police. 

We marched past Downing Street and called Boris's name, but to no avail. He hadn't put the kettle on for us, it seemed.

All in all it was a wonderful and uplifting experience to know that there were so many people who felt exactly the same as me and my lovely companions, and that we are just a fraction of the millions across the country who have had enough of the lies, damned lies, lockdowns and other abuses.

Roll on the international Crimes Against Humanity trials where our leaders will be held to account for what they've done to us and our country. Wouldn't it be ironic, if having swept away our human rights, they found themselves condemned to face the loss of their own? 

Saturday 15 August 2020

Re-thinking the Re-set

I can't switch on the TV or radio lately without hearing about the great 're-think' or 're-set'.

The chattering classes particularly wax lyrically on Radio 4 about the elongated dawn chorus with such opening lines as 'During lockdown I've really had time to start appreciating the butterflies in my garden' as if that's all that matters. As if the whole Covid thing has been a gain. Some sort of gift. No thought about all the industries and businesses going to the wall, the domestic abuse, the animal abuse, the people denied carers and medical care during lockdown or dying because Covid sufferers had been released back to nursing homes from hospitals to infect other residents going on behind the scenes. A multitude of sins and horrors brushed over. But that's ok, because a few privileged individuals have had time to appreciate the butterflies in their garden or enjoy a slightly nicer bike ride because there was less traffic around.

Well here's the thing. Not one of us chose to be plunged into the situation we are now in. It has been foisted upon us without our consultation or consent, whether natural or otherwise.

Now we are told we are about to enter the age of the New Normal, but WHOSE new normal?

And if it's all our fault that the world was in such a state (regularly inferred) then surely it is up to we 99% to decide what new normal or 'back to better' we want.

First let's ask ourselves:

Who are the some of the winners?
Bill Gates
PPE producers
Sanitiser producers
Bicycle shops
Pharmaceutical companies
Surveillance companies

Who are some of the Losers?
All of us - our human rights have been either taken away or substantially reduced with no end in sight
The elderly and vulnerable, many of whom have been denied all human contact for months.
Blue collar workers in particular as more and more of life is driven online
Independent businesses (unless bicycle or food shops)
Anyone who wants to keep cash
NHS - while we were clapping, our government were selling large chunks of it off!
The character and quality of all of our towns, cities and villages if planning regulations are being swept away.
The disabled as all towns and cities race to the bottom to replace roads (including disabled parking bays) with cycle lanes to become vehicle free.

As with any crisis, the rich have become richer while the poor have become poorer (and in this case, the squeezed middle as well) Funny that.

Notwithstanding, it should not be up to the 1% - the cabal of billionaires who appear to run the world and hoover all the wealth - to tell us what world we are going to have, let alone impose it. Or to tell us we can't use cash anymore or have our human rights back until we all submit to a v.accine to make them even richer with no guarantee of success and no indemnity insurance against injury either.

The great re-set troubles me because on so many levels (including the local council using Covid as an excuse for all manner of highway robbery), it is starting to feel like the motive for what is happening. More and more it smacks of something long planned.

I do not consent and was never asked.

Tuesday 30 June 2020

The Battle for Madeira Drive!

Scarcely six months since the 40th anniversary celebrations of the cult film Quadrophenia in September 2019, Brighton's iconic Madeira Drive, possibly one of the most famous stretches of road in England, found itself unceremoniously closed, no warning or public notice, ostensibly to 'provide more space to exercise' under lockdown.

Come June and travel restrictions were lifted but Stewards continued to guard the entrances and exits to all traffic and the traders grew restless, demanding a meeting with the council. Meantime my partner Ollie (mod, biker, cyclist, walker and occasional driver) often cycled down there for a cup of tea and a chat with the cafe owners. He was astonished to be told by one that a council official had come to visit and advised him that the council were planning to make Madeira Drive closure permanent!

We were both shocked. How could the council even dream of doing this and when the city had just been economically crashed for three months?

No more veteren car rallies? No more Mod weekends? No more Brightona and other events?
And what about visitors? What about the disabled? What about the restoration of Madeira Terraces? We are supposed to be a resort town!

We immediately set up a petition here to re-open Madeira Drive and Ollie started a blog here, which he updates daily, detailing every twist and turn in the saga.

Amazing people started approaching us and offering to help spread the word, but it soon became apparent we were up against some dark and determined forces who were not above underhand tactics.

Various articles and letters appeared in the Brighton Argus, Ollie was interviewed for Brighton Argus, BBC Sussex Radio and Latest TV. I made a list of pros and cons below and found there were virtually no pros to keeping Madeira Drive shut!

If you would like to see Madeira Drive open again, please sign our petition here and also fill in the council's newly created consultation here. The matter will go to full council on 23rd July 2020.
Thank you. Let's keep Madeira Drive alive!

Madeira Drive Closure
Makes Momentum/The Greens happy
Will cause businesses to close down (souvenir shop already gone)
Provides more pedestrian and cycling space (though in reality, few are using the middle of the road for these purposes)
Restoring Madeira Arches would provide more pedestrian space as would re-open covered walkway, upper footpaths, slopes, staircases and cliff lift.

Losing money through:
·        Lost revenue from 393 parking spaces
·        Trader’s rent strike
·        Hiring a minimum of 4 x staff for 7 days a week to stop traffic using it.
·        No events and minimal visitors
·        Possibility of being sued by both traders and event hosts.

Discriminates against disabled, carers, visitors, bikers, scooterists and anyone who is not fit or local enough to drive or walk everywhere. Disabled have been told they have to park in Black Rock car park, a mile away!

May be used as an excuse NOT to restore Madeira Terraces or preserve unique Green Wall.

Traffic parking in Kemp Town or Hove instead, affecting residents who cannot park there.

No coach parking, particularly overnight and supporting local hotels or to take bands/equipment/audience to Concorde II

No taxi access

No through traffic, though was never much used for through traffic, but as a destination

Chicanes already in place to prevent boy racers

Not most polluting road in Brighton and no emissions studies to evidence pollution.

Permanent closure mooted without public consultation under the auspices of the (temporary) Coronavirus Act 2020 and without requisite public notice or applying for A TTRO under Road Traffic Act 1984 (currently being legally challenged by two events organisers, we understand).

Bad cycling accidents by speeding cyclists

It is naïve to assume that Madeira Drive would be allowed to lie fallow indefinitely. Once businesses are gone, it could easily be sold off to developers and lost to the citizens of Brighton and Hove as an iconic promenade and events destination forever!