On the pavement, outside Creation nightclub, West Street

The night that brings it home to him how different Brighton is, is on Pride weekend, here on West Street outside Wild Fruit at Creation.

Laurence used to be a specialist crime officer. Top level stuff dealing with yardie gangs, high class dealers, nasty kidnapping cartels... Absolutely loved it but after seven years it was time for a change, so puts in for a transfer and starts commuting

here instead.

But nothing has prepared him for this.

As a police officer you’re used to looking for the abnormal. That man looks strange. What’s he up to, looking into that woman’s bag?

Tonight everything is strange. My word! There are people dressed in PVC suits and nurses’ uniforms, flamboyant massive wigs, feather boas, drag queens in high heels and stockings...

Anywhere else people would be saying, What on earth is going on? In Brighton nobody bats an eyelid. Nothing is abnormal.

Normally as a police officer you end up with such a negative view of people. You deal with burglary victims, a mother whose child has been beaten up, the aftermath of a car crash... And it’s never good news.

But this weekend reinstates a kind of faith in people. All these thousands of people from the LGBT community, from the heterosexual community, here and all the way up Jimmy Street having such a good time. And there are no problems. OK, one or two incidents of excessive high spirits, but really, nothing serious...

He’s always thought he had to be stand-offish on duty. At first he feels uncomfortable with the West Street hen nighters who want to sit on his shoulders to have their photos taken. Should I be doing this?

But actually, he realises, yes he should be. That way you understand what’s going on. That way people recognise you as a person. Being in uniform he gets his share of proposals but it’s all really good humoured.

"Ooh. Do you want a snog?"

Of course sometimes you have to draw the line. "I’m good thanks," he says. "I don’t think my wife would approve."

"We destroy the myth that all accountants are boring"

The Beach, 171-181 King’s Road Arches

Not so long back the young clubber had her own phone nicked. Now she spots a Samsung someone’s dropped on the floor at The Beach. She picks it up; pockets it.

The phone’s owner doesn’t notice it’s gone until she’s in the kebab shop on King’s Road. She’s Claire; and at 2am she’s rummaging through her bag, wishing it’s there. How could she be so stupid? She flew down from Glasgow this afternoon to come clubbing in Brighton with a bunch of colleagues from work.

Claire and her mates are trainee auditors for a big national firm. Based all around the country, they’d originally met up doing training courses: Skills 1, 2 and 3. They got along so well they decided they’d meet up again, choosing Brighton because one of them – Davinia – lives here. They’re calling tonight Skills 3.5.

Davinia took them all to Revamp in Sydney Street to pick up fancy dress gear. The theme was the Eighties, but in their big hair wigs and moustaches the boys ended up like German porn stars. They say, "We destroy the myth that all accountants are boring."

They ended up at The Beach, dancing for hours together up on the stage. It was a brilliant time, all together again.

But losing the phone has taken the edge off the night for Claire. It’s not the phone itself. It’s the contacts. The night she’s cementing her new work friendships, all the numbers of her old friends from St Andrews uni have gone.

Back at The Beach they’re helpful. "Come in. Have a look." Claire searches under the stage where they’d danced, laughing, to Madonna’s Like A Prayer, doing all the actions, dropping to their knees, sobbing.

But there is no phone.

Davinia texts: "Hi if u find this fone please call back this number."

No answer. "It’s gone," says Claire, hating herself for losing it.

It will all seem different in the morning. The young clubber wlll give the phone to her parents. They’ll know what to do – find some way of contacting the owner. She’s had a phone stolen herself. It’s horrible to lose one.

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 711