the grand, brighton

My girlfriend's parents are down visiting in Brighton this weekend, and took us out for dinner last night. They're staying in a big hotel on the beachfront (there'll be no product placement on this site), but not the Grand, the city's most historic hotel. That said, we all walked past it last night and although Brighton folk generally much prefer cooler, down-at-heel but achingly tasteful boutique hotels, it's hard not to be impressed by the building, not least because it so successfully survived the IRA bomb which sought to kill Maggie Thatcher in the 80s.

My girlfriend is out with her parents tonight too, and will have walked past the hotel a second time. When she walks her parents back she'll find a quite different sight. Apparently the Grand, which has weathered all sorts of storms thus far, is on fire. Ten fire-engines are fighting the blaze. I hope they succeed.