Sunday morning, 9.30 am, a Worthing dance studio. Oddly (if you’re used to choreography and dance as a practice of rigorous self-correction), black-out blinds blank out all the full wall mirrors. Like No Lights, No Lycra then, this looks like one of those places where we’re being encouraged to let go of self-consciousness and drop into our bodies, uncensored by fears of being ridiculous or not moving ‘right’. Shoes off,
The matinee audience for Northbrook’s Little Shop of Horrors is mostly students and families, but the cast gives as if they were on Broadway, with a tight and well-choreographed chorus and four protagonists who compel us into their world. I forget that Mushnik is not actually a middle-aged NY Jewish momma, so assured and technically strong is Emma Cobby’s performance. Joshua Rennells’ DDS pulls us in with a queasy and
Still on Brighton Road, still hoping to find some Worthing BME voices – because I so often move in spaces where I’m part of an un-noticed whiteness. Whiteness: default by-and-as privilege, overwhelming. This can leave the blog very unbalanced. I dodge into Mockingbird Cafe – a place which sometimes feels, if anything, like a little bit of London, more than anything Brightonian (unless we’re going with the line that B’town
Wandering along Brighton Road, I overhear a leisurely but intense and highly detailed conversation about Worthing events. I gauge probable friendliness and interrupt the pair, explaining that I’m intruding because they sound like real insiders who know Worthing well, are passionate about it, and probably have informed opinions about The Question. Whoa! I’ve opened a tinderbox. Worthing is not the new Brighton. Brighton is culturally diverse and it meets all
There’s no official lgbtq network, no meetups, no Worthing pride (yet?), but there’s loads of queer folk. This has been true since very long back. These days, the – sometimes quite genteel – discreet older queer crowd has new company. Is this elder flight from youth-worshipping Brighton, white crawl from London? It might be evidence of a generational later-life shift in priorities and needs – less clubbing, more gardening. Naturally,
We’re in The Orchard cafe for their vegan tea event. There’s 7 of us, in a chock-full cafe (tickets sold out weeks ago), and we look around in wonder, interested to know who are the vegan-or-vegan-curious of Worthing, then? There’s an all-ages crowd, including some very glamorous young folks, a sprinkling of beard-and-tattoo dudes, at least one person who has been vegan since the 1970s – and a baby whose
Unresponsive screen. Again. Trudging resignedly to the nearest phone repair shop. “£65”. “But it’s not cracked, just slow?” “Screen needs replacing”. Cross the road for second opinion. Same guy pops up behind the counter. “Same price here, £65” he grins. Energised by piss-off, trot along to a 3rd shop. Exact same phone cases cases, same sideline of same fidget-spinners, but no sign of pop-up man. A middle-aged English jack-the-lad with
‘Sold! ‘Sold! ‘Sold!’ boasts the window in an exhausting hyperbole of celebration. Plenty of bungalows, just as we suspected there would be. But town houses too. And – look! – some smart contemporary flats designed for urban commuter living (if you’re unlucky enough to be a South-eastern rail customer). Or perhaps they’re intended as cool cutting-edge residence for co-working start-up entrepreneurs who don’t need – or want – to confuse