I was fully intending for this post to be a super fun account of my weekend in Brighton, recounting all the tales that happened over the three days, and to have the appropriate pictures to accompany them. And while I do still have a gorgeous stream of photos to present you all, I ended up getting a little more sentimental, and a lot less tour brochure than I intended. I hope you enjoy it regardless.
Bank holidays are such a joy when you work full-time. Finally, three whole days to do as you please, and work becomes a dim and distant memory. At the end of August, me, my boyfriend and three other friends moseyed on down to Brighton for a weekend of sun, seaside and debaucherous frolics. In the days leading up to it, it dawned on my that my Sheffield friends and Brighton friends had never met. And that made me a little bit nervous.
In the months leading up to moving to Sheffield for university, I could hardly wait. I was so excited to start a new chapter in my life, meeting brand new people, throwing away old expectations and starting fresh. Though I loved Brighton and my friends there, going to another city hundreds of miles away from home seemed like a journey I needed to take. And I’ve never looked back. I’m an entirely different person than the eighteen year old girl who first step foot in Sheffield, and I’m better for it.
I’m still me though, and old pieces of me keep floating back up to the surface whenever I make a visit back to Brighton. Whether its falling back into new habits, or simply reminiscing with friends as we catch up, I will always be that teenage girl who loved nothing more than go to the beach with her friends everyday. Then before I know it, I’m back in Sheffield, settling back into my regular rhythms, settling into a slightly different version of myself.
I guess this is why I was slightly nervous of my friends meeting, because it’s like two words colliding. Suddenly, the two different versions of myself would meet face to face, and the world would implode. Well, maybe not something as dramatic as that. But there is always a sense of, I hope they like each other. Will they think I act differently? What if I come across as a big fake all along? I needn’t have worried. Of course, everyone got along like a house on fire, and we had a wonderful weekend.
The following photos were taken by Lucy, my dear friend and housemate, who helped me capture the magic of this weekend perfectly.
I was left feeling very content after our weekend stay in Brighton, and also very reflective and philisophical for reasons I couldn’t pin down. Maybe it was the sudden realisation that I wasn’t a kid anymore, and all my school friends were grown up with jobs and relationships. It also really hit me that I also no longer had a home here, so I couldn’t even go back to my creature comforts and pretnend to be a child again, to get away from it all, even if only for a little bit.
I did leave with the comfort of knowing that I took something away from the trip. I learnt that it’s okay to have pieces of yourself in separate places, a different version of you to suit the crowd your with. My world didn’t implode when my two world met face to face, it simply just showed me how far I’ve come, where my head is now, and wonder what I have to look forward to in the future. Brighton may not be my home anymore, but it will still house the shadows of my memories in my time there, as will Sheffield when I inevitably move on.
This weekend taught me find the new in the old, look for magic around every corner, and never ever take the people you love for granted. Whether they’re there for a season or a lifetime, there will always be a reason.