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Alison Swann is out on the road and not exactly feeling wanted

Cycling in Brighton is great. Well, it is if you like going around in circles (The Level); swerving out in front of huge lorries (Lewes Road); or if you like taking a huge leap of faith attempting to use two wheels to navigate your way from Churchill Square to the bottom of North Street. And as for Trafalgar Street…

Okay, there are positive sides to this story. The new cycle path up to The Downs is brilliant, the open-to-all space of New Road is a pleasure, as are the nippy little paths around the New England Quarter.

“I’m no dyed-in-the-wool, hemp-wearing, hippydippy cliché who wants to ban all cars, but why is it such a challenge to cycle across town?”

And I love zipping along the seafront on the great go-faster tarmac even if I do get RSI from ringing my bell to get wanderers out of the way. Sadly, it would take me rather a long time to get to work if I only used the cycle paths that I felt safe on and which were a pleasure to use.

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Alison Swann considers if your family’s past affects your present

Wandering home up Lewes Road I started to notice the gradual trickle and then tsunami-like flood of fresh faces. They’re back. Well, not exactly back, as for many this is their first time but it’s started again.

“As we move about so much maybe the past becomes more important to give us a sense of self”

The new kids are in town and as the new intake of students lands in the city, Bambi-eyed and still working out how much pasta can feed eight people sharing a house designed for two, I got to thinking about where they all come from? And how their arrival in town will influence future generations.

Some will stay for three years, leave and never come back; some will drag it on a bit longer, or bounce backwards and forwards – like I have. And for others, this will be their life, the place they call home, where they will settle down, have children and build a life.

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Injured Alison Swann proves she’s not a stick in the mud at Beachdown festival

I wasn’t going to go, but at the last minute, it seemed rude not to. I’ve been trying to see the Magic Numbers for some time now.

The first was about three years ago down at the Concorde 2. My brother had brought my ex and I tickets, so we went along with him and ended up rowing because my ex declared it wasn’t fun to watch fat hairy people sing.

“At the eleventh hour, having recovered enough to do a one-crutch wobble, I snagged a ticket. Finally, what could possibly go wrong?”

I was horrified and embarrassed as this comment was made rather publicly. Years on I am pleased to report that said ex is now fatter than any member of the Magic Numbers and that hairy beardy look is now simply damn cool. So that night a screaming row and the very public dismemberment of a relationship drowned out the band.

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Alison Swann looks at why Brighton can feel eerily familiar

A friend said to me recently that he had experienced a huge sense of déjà vu while walking up Vere Road, here in Brighton. He was making a familiar journey and decided to take a different route, with no reason in mind other than novelty and the unexplained vagaries of human decision-making. He looked up as he walked and was drawn to wall, alongside which was a line of parked cars.

“My grandad looked and dressed like Richard Attenborough’s Pinkie Brown from the film Brighton Rock“

He stood and stared at the wall and was overwhelmed by a feeling of being there as a child and of his dad parking the car and lifting him out of the back seat. It made me wonder how many people have had that experience as they walk around Brighton? So many of us have come to live here by choice as adults.

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