Andrew Kay: Knickers

On a recent visit to Marks & Spencer, I was flabbergasted by the length of the queue at the cash register.

It was a sunny summer’s day at the end of May and there I was, laden with a selection of summery clothes ready for my forthcoming trip to Sicily. Of course, like any self-respecting citizen, I eavesdropped on the conversations in front of me to see if I could work out why the place was so extraordinarily busy at what, I had assumed, would be a quiet time.

The conversation was a revelation and in a way filled me with a kind of dread. It turned out that they were a large party of visitors from the South West. Your actual tourists, here in the very beautiful city of Brighton and Hove on a short trip. They had arrived by coach, stayed overnight in a large central hotel, breakfasted, and were now fulfilling the tourist dream and visiting the fabulous attractions that our historic city has to offer.

Maybe I live in another world – plenty have suggested that in the past, I know – but given what we have to offer here in Brighton and Hove, I would have hoped that they would have made straight for the Royal Pavilion, crossed over to the museum and art gallery, and drifted back through the Lanes, before promenading along our prom and taking a cheery stroll down the pier. Perhaps they might have slipped into one of the many excellent and often well-priced, independently run restaurants that make our city’s culinary offers so attractive. But no, none of that.

“On the whole, their sizing suits a man of my ample proportions (okay, they make clothes for fat blokes)”

Here they all were, queuing in Marks & Sparks to buy socks and knickers and ties. I’m a big fan of M&S and shop there rather a lot. On the whole, their sizing suits a man of my ample proportions (okay, they make clothes for fat blokes). I paid for my striking yellow trousers and white linen shirt and decided to take advantage of the ‘facilities’ before moving on. This was an action that I soon realised most of the tourists were taking. M&S do provide remarkably good facilities. After washing my hands, I tried to leave but, to my alarm, I got caught up in a melee of matrons, eager to get in. No, I was not in the ladies, but in a common area. Being a well brought up person, I of course acted with manners, stepping aside to allow them to pass. But this, it would seem, was not enough for one older lady, not enough at all. She barged into me with force and pushed me back against a door, at the same time pulling the handle to shut it. Why she wanted to shut it I do not know, but in doing so she managed to wedge my forefinger into the gap on the hinge side and crush it. The two pieces of timber made short work of scraping a large wedge of skin across my knuckle and the bruise came up within seconds.

I cried, I mean I really cried – because it hurt like hell. I felt sick too, and realised that I needed to sit down.

That was not going to happen either. Outside the washrooms – what a pretty euphemism – in the café, every seat was taken by people lingering over teas and coffees, and sandwiches that they could have bought in the food hall and eaten sitting on a seafront bench. For the same money thay could have gone to see Sue Addis in one of her restaurants, Donatello or Pinnochio, and, taking advantage of the many special deals, eaten a decent cooked meal for a similar price. And I could have sat down and nursed my aching finger, which still hurts by the way.

So what are we doing wrong? I mean I really cannot blame the visitors for thinking that M&S is the pinnacle of our cultural and tourism offer.

Could the city be making more of itself? Are we marketing Brighton and Hove as the fabulous Regency paradise that it surely could be? Okay, Bath has its spa and Roman baths, but it doesn’t have a palace of such glory that it rivals those of Bavaria. But Bath sings out to the world that it is a place of great historical significance and architectural beauty. It is recognised on a global scale. Right now we are more famous for a culture of hen and stag parties, late-night raves and clubbing. All of which play an important part in our economy. But are we doing our best? I suspect not if a coachload of West Country folk are drawn to socks and knickers that they could easily buy in their own M&S.

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