Maybe this will Brighton your day....

Grandfather's Watch History 101: Complete.

The journey continues.....

Location: London Bridge Underground Station

I recall lots of beer, a Canadian, a Russian, lots of Maker's Mark, and random blathering before bedtime. I drank too much last night. I feel like shit.

Unfortunately I can't let that stop me. My grandfather's watch is ticking. I have to be in Brighton by noon in order to make it to Paul's by 1. I hear Mick Jagger singing "Tii-iiii-iiime, it's on my side." Yes, it is. I'm early.

The train is empty. The weather is typical London. Cloudy, cold, wet, and dreary. Perfect sleeping weather. I nap on the train.

Van Morrison is reminding me that "Momma always told me, there'd be days like this." I love my Ipod. It always sets the mood.


I finally hit Brighton. I need coffee to get me out of this funk. Maker's is hitting it's mark. Head is pounding. Snap out of it.

Mmmmmmm.....I've become addicted to cappuccino. And these little crackers it always comes with. If my stomach was a spot, this combo would be beating the hell out of it.


I'm waking up now. It's around 12:15. I have to be at Paul's by 1. He lives up in the hills of Brighton. Beautiful old city.

I hop on the #27 bus. On my way now.

WTF? The pier. Shit, I'm on the wrong bus. Too late now, I've been riding for 30 minutes. Might as well enjoy the scenery.

I call Sandi to see if she would e-mail Paul to let him know I'll be late.

Rain is rolling in from the English Channel.

I make friends with the bus driver. He assures me that I'll make my stop by 2.

The pier again. Looks like Santa Monica covered in fog. Lights, ferris wheel, roller coaster. I want to ride in the front with my hands up, screaming like a kid. Ahhhhh, nostalgia.

I love this town. The bus ride inspires me. I'm coming back here for vacation one day.

I finally make it to Paul's. Random walk up a one lane road to Hillside Dr.

First time I've been offered tea since I've been here. I had to piss so bad that I declined. In retrospect, I wish I had accepted.

I was too excited about the watch to rescind my decision. No tea for this Yank.

Paul is probably in his mid-50's. He mentions his retirement from a pharmaceutical company and how he began working on watches as a hobby.

I'm led up to a door in a small hallway that, when opened, reveals the tools of his craft. Lots of screwdrivers, batteries, crystal removers, and many things I couldn't name. He shows me his collection. The Ventura, the Winn Dixie Electronic, the Pacer. Amazing.

We talk for about an hour about my grandfather's watch and it's history.

I'm not sure if he realizes how important the moment is to me. My mother asked me to take a picture of when he handed me the watch but I forgot. It was like I was in a trance. I don't really remember everything. I know I was nervous and probably shaking.

We exchange pleasantries and talk a bit about motorcycles. I mention my affection for 70's Triumph Bonneville's. I don't know much about them. Just that they look cool.

Time to go. Paul helps me get my bearings and points me to the correct bus. We say goodbye. I thank him for what he did to my watch.

Looking back on Hillside.
















It's about 2:30. My train doesn't leave until 7pm.

He recommends The North Laines. Several city blocks of random shops. Too much randomness to explain.

I head for the Laines.

I wander up and down the streets for several hours stopping for a good 45 minutes to get my guitar fix at a small shop. Cool kids working in there. What a life. We talk amps and electric guitars. They were pretty shocked that a yankee knew anything about vintage Fender Amps. Yeah, I'm old. But I know my shit.

I stumbled into the craziest shop I've ever been in. If you're in Austin, picture all of the little vintage stores on Congress, 1st Street, Lamar, and Burnet. Now imagine everything they have for sale into numbered display cases, multiply the amount of crap by 10, throw in some drunk English kids handing out keys to the displays to boot. This is the store I was in.

Vintage Heaven.

I played a mandolin, took some pictures, worked magic on a switchblade, bought a couple of tie bars, tested a flask, and tripped over a midget.

Who knows how long I spent in there.

I headed back to the train station only to find out that I could've taken the 6pm train.

I had an hour to kill.

As a people watcher, I set up shop in the middle of the station.

Poetry in motion. The good people of Brighton are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. Men, women, and children were dressed in their Tuesday bests. It was like I was in an advertisement in GQ. Style was abound, grace was ever present.

Even the hipsters were cool.

I made it back to London without incident. Met up with Sandi and her crew for dinner and more drinks.

Early bedtime. I'm flippin' hungover.

Tomorrow is a new day, but it will never compare to my day in Brighton......