“The past is a foreign
country: they do things differently there.”
As I wandered the streets of
Brighton on Sunday I couldn’t help but think of L. P. Hartley’s words: how the sights
and smells of a place can awaken the past, as it stretches and lingers and
slowly creeps up from behind to pull you back to a moment in time, whether
pleasant or painful, before it releases its fading grip and returns you to the
present.
I’ve only recently returned to
the city where I grew up as a boy, after spending four years in London. I’d
been back on plenty of occasions during those four years, either for birthdays
or Christmases, or just to get some respite from the manic ebb and flow of
London life. But the difference between then and now is stark, not least
because in those intermittent years I’d faced up to the fact that I’m gay. I’d
gone to London to escape who I was, the closeted teenager mimicking friends,
clinging to a semblance of what it is to be straight, and I’ve returned a gay
man, full of hopes and aspirations.
Part of moving back to
Brighton is to set the record straight (or should that be gay?); to enjoy
Brighton through the eyes of the person I feel I should’ve always been but who I
never allowed myself to be.
As I strolled through the Lanes
or along Marine Parade, familiar sights and smells lit the blue touchpaper
of the past, producing explosions of memories that shone brightly for
brief moments before fizzling away: the streets where I’d ride high above
everyone else on my dad’s shoulders; the gay pub where I had my first pint; the
pebbles in front of a fishing storage hut where tears were shed by a confused
18 year-old; the vintage shops perused with an old girlfriend (now best friend); the pubs and bars I stumbled from with friends and brothers on nights lost to
young abandon. All still fresh in my mind, yet altered by time.
But as I sat and looked beyond
the swirling waves, beyond the Palace Pier and out to the point where the sea meets
the sky, I knew everything would be okay. I knew those memories would remain in
the past and that the vast expanse that stretched out before me held endless possibilities,
and the chance to be free.