Thursday night we were honored with an invitation to a drinks party for the management team of Lifehouse Spa. Now, how Casey and I qualify as part of the management team I have no idea, but Americans are in high demand in this part of the world, so after work we found ourselves rapidly changing from mud soaked jeans in tatters, high visibility jackets, hard hats and steel-toed boots into sweaters and scarves. We were driven by Ian (the incredibly friendly and vivacious General Manager) to his apartment on the water in Brightlingsea, a much more pleasant town than any we had seen in Essex so far. There we were swept into a chic brand-new bar called Tarcini, where we were gien endless plates of h'ors d'ouevres (including melon and prosciutto, tomato and mozzarella, olives, prawn sandwiches, and other delicacies and heaps of desserts) and treated to all sorts of drinks by the super-generous executive team into which we had been accepted. Feeling exceedingly professional, we chatted with the head chef, marketing director, spa manager, as well as a few strangers and bar tenders. A cool jazz band played exuberantly, including a multi-talented, multi-instrumental frontman, a bassist who may have been asleep, and a drummer who, while technically profficient, didn't seem interested in any of the ambience of jazz. They were, however, excellent, as was the atmosphere and, ultimately, the evening. It was a big improvement on our previous office party experience, and made us determined to someday be part of the executive team (as much as we love the gardeners).
Friday, we were swept along by the wonderful English rail network to Brighton, where we were greeted by Katy Cronk. Upon arrival we quickly launched out into the streets and grabbed a couple burgers at GBK, Gourmet Burger Kitchen, a really cool and delicious place. Then we wandered the streets of the town and stopped at a pub called the White Rabbit. Brighton, which is on the southern coast of England, is a city of bright lights and bright people, lots of color and loud, happy voices. It is the gay capital of England, and is super liberal and sort of reminiscent of a combination between San Francisco and Sebastapol. The streets were garlanded in christmas lights, and trendy shops and healthy vegetarian restaurants caught the eye as we strolled through the North Lanes. Katy was a welcome change after a long line of Essex acquaintances, just as Brighton was a welcome change after Essex. After a glass of wine we walked through town and up to Katy's dorm (she is studying architecture at the University of Brighton) and met a few of her friends before collapsing cozily in front of the classic Disney Robin Hood, a favorite of all of ours and a wonderful brief trip back to childhood. We fell asleep to the joyful whistling of "Little John and Robin Hood, walking through the forest..."

Saturday we had a quick breakfast and then darted into town to complete our first and most essential task: Watching Harry Potter #7 Part 1. It was predictably dark and magical and overall could not have been more satisfying. Faithful to the book and deliciously indulgent (hard not to be with two long movie to spread it over) it was utterly absorbing, even for Katy who has somehow managed never to read a single HP book or see a single HP movie. I gave her a crash course in Wizardology before the movie started, and Casey answered questions like "Who is that white-faced guy in the dark robes with the red eyes trying to kill Harry Potter?"

After that absorbing experience, we were thrown quickly into another. We went to the Prince Albert, a dark little pub that we squeezed ourselves into (we were joined by three of Katy's very stylish and outgoing friends) to watch some incredible live music. We were in a tiny room with tons of people, and as it was afternoon the attitude was chilled out as opposed to overwhelming. The first act was a solo guy who played mournful tunes that brought to mind Thom Yorke, Jon Swift, and the Decemberists (if you can believe those three have Anything in common). He sang loud and forcefully, and seemed to really believe what he was singing. He was also clearly classically trained on the guitar, and played very beautifully. The next act was a duo from LA (we came all the way to England to see a band from LA...ironic) who sang folksy tunes with hand percussion and simple guitar. Their incredible harmonising and outgoing engagement with the crowd reminded us strongly of Jela (wished Linnea was here for all this). After they played, Casey went and introduced himself, complimenting them and inviting them to come play in the Mystic in Petaluma, on condition that they wait a few months till we are home. 
The final act (named Gregory and the Hawk) was utterly entrancing. A petite, dark-heared, big-eyed woman climbed onto the stage, muttering apologies for herself, and immediately captivating the whole room. Something about her was wonderful, delicate, beautiful. She was adorable and yet impressive and no one could turn their eyes away from her, even before she had begun to sing. And once she began, in a lilting lullaby of lyrical perfection, the room went into utter silence. People forgot to sip their drinks, eat their food, or flirt with whoever was next to them. All anyone could see was this strange little angel strumming a harp (literally, she played the harp, beautifully) and singing wonderful songs, with the occaisional interruption for another endearing joke or apology. We never wanted her set to end. But end it did, and we were thrust back out onto the streets, now dark. We were reeling, but joyful, and we walked excitedly back to Katy's dorm. 

That evening was a whirlwind of new people and excitements. All of Katy's friends were wonderful, fitting us just as well as the city of Brighton fit us. We hung around the dorm for a while, pre-lashing, and then went out on the lash, and rounded the night off by chundering everywhere. (If you don't understand this English slang then watch this iconic piece of english cinema http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKFjWR7X5dU). The people were entertaining, the city was lively, and we had great fun. It was the closest we have yet come to being in college, and both of us are Seriously considering switching to Brighton University!

The next day started late (perhaps due to the activities of the night before...maybe) and consisted of a long idyllic walk along the beach and Brighton pier. We relaxed on the smooth stones of the seashore and watched waves and clouds roll by. Katy found a rock shaped like a salamander, Casey found a heart, and I found a dinosaur egg. We got hot chocolate and organic chocolate cake at a super-healthy cafe and sat outside with Tom and Kate, two of Katy's friends. We explored a really cool vintage clothing shop and gave the streets of Brighton a thorough exploration. Then we made a massive feast of pesto pasta, salad, bread and brie. This was our thanksgiving. Not remotely similar to the true American thanksgiving, but sitting cozily in the Brighton dorm eating our homemade feast and drinking mulled wine (incredible heated wine with cardamom and cinnamon and a million other spices, tons of sugar and oranges), it was easy to give thanks. We dragged ourselves to our feet and completed the 4 hour journey back to Thorpe, thankful for Brighton, Katy, new friends and memories, a warm meal and, eventually, a warm sleep.